#for every time tom slipped and fell in the show

[personinthepalace]

Tom Cashman slipping and falling - Taskmaster Australia 2x01 // 3x02

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 05. ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH

a/n: i am apologizing now and a chapter early because this will be the last bit of happiness before the real angst settles in. i'm talking absolute pain. but for now we get to indulge in logan being content and happy with having his honey exactly how he wants. this chapter wasn't supposed to be this long, but i'm feral for this man. so here we are. enjoy the equivalent to a beach episode in a tv show before the real pain begins!

summary: when the world grows silent and time seems to stand still, you and logan find a reprieve in the serenity of your apartment.

OR nasty fucking him all over the small space until he sees god.

word count: 8k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), sloppy toppy to the highest degree, p in v sex, choking, cumplay, spitplay, dirty talk, wade being a peeping tom, just wade, squirting, slightly dom!logan, accidental edging, face fucking, creampie, logan being a freak and his honey matching him entirely.

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He slept. For the first time in near a decade, he slept long after the sun rose in the morning sky. He resided in a vast emptiness of nothing but darkness. No nightmares, no screams, no fear that ate his heart bit by bit until all but a shell remained. Merely the echo of your breaths as you lay sprawled across his chest—naked skin pressed intimately atop his.

The curtains on your bedroom window remained open from the day prior—allowing the sun to stream in. Catching across your face and forcing your eyes to open with a squint of displeasure. You stirred gently, a sigh pressed to the hard chest against your cheek. The one that rose and fell in time with his heart beat.

Surprisingly he didn't snore as often as you expected. The first night he spent in your bed he was rigid. Unsure of where to lay, or how to curve around your body. Now he remained a heavy mass that slumped into your soft mattress, one arm spread to your side of the bed and the other a weight on your back.

Even in sleep Logan was adamant on keeping you right there. Pressed tight enough to feel every shift, every deep and sated breath.

A sore ache built between your thighs as you turned your head to look at him—admiring the way his face was devoid of a frown. After the fifth orgasm (three around his cock and two from his mouth) you had no choice but to shove him away. The promise of more on the tip of your tongue—as long as you got a chance to rest.

Although you were positive if he tried to fuck you right away you'd be screaming. And not from pleasure. The raw pain of your still leaking cunt is what kept you from shuffling up his body to sit on his now hard cock. It stirred against your stomach, pressed deliciously on your warm skin. You could feel it begin to drip, pooling against the trail of hair that led downward.

Moving slowly, you managed to maneuver yourself down his body—checking with each shift to see if he remained asleep. The sight made you smile; knowing he felt safe enough to find some solace in a dreamless night here in your bed. You watched him toss and turn on Wade's couch long enough.

For now he’d get a chance to actually breathe peacefully. His body no longer at the ready for a fight that would never come.

"Pretty," you sighed, eyes trailing down his stomach to the patch of hair nestled at the base of his already hard cock.

A pearlescent drop slipped down the vein, his chest a steady rise and fall even as you carefully peeked your tongue out to lick it up. You froze when his body shifted, a heavy sigh falling past his lips. Waking him up was the last thing you wanted—given the state of unrest he found himself stuck in for two weeks—but the thought of finally getting to taste him kept you going.

The salty tang of him spread along your tongue as you licked at his cock again. This time less afraid of feeling his body shift. He seemed to be on the very precipice of consciousness. But sleep would hold him captive for just a bit longer.

You moaned softly when your lips wrapped around him fully—hand gently holding what you may not be able to fit in your mouth. If last night told you anything, it’s that James Howlett was not a small man. In fact you had proof to uphold that statement. Yet that alone wouldn't deter you from taking him as deep as you could; even if you choked.

The stuttered breath that left his chest made your heart race the further you went. Pulling off quickly, you let your spit drip out of your mouth, coating his length to help you slide down a bit easier. The wet echo of your hand filled the room—his breaths deep and raspy as he started to feel the tendrils of pleasure take hold in his body.

Biting back another whine, you swallowed him down until he hit the back of your throat. Your hand a steady rhythm along what you couldn't fit. He pulsed on your tongue; precum dribbled down the back of your throat. The taste made your head spin—his cum now leaking from your spent cunt. Coating the inside of your thighs with a combination of you and him.

A match made in the entanglement of two universes. Colliding into one another without mercy.

"F-fuck," he groaned, hips shifting forward and choking you on his cock. You spluttered for breath as he caused you to gag—spit leaking down to his pubic hair.

Even through your gasps for air and soft breathy whimpers, he remained asleep. Lost in a dream of you sucking his cock greedily back into your mouth. Eyes overflowing with tears and lungs begging for just a bit more oxygen. He fucked your mouth gently, hips thrusting unconsciously to stay in that wet heat. To feel just a bit more of a white hot ecstasy you helped him chase.

Cupping his balls, you felt your spit coat them in a sticky layer. You wanted them in your mouth. Ached to feel them on your tongue. And with a gasp of the crisp morning air, you shifted—sucking on them with a soft moan of need.

Your hand pumped him rapidly, building his high until there was no denying what was happening. Scraping your teeth along the soft skin of his balls, you felt them draw up tightly. Logan's eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air, his face tilting to see you between his thighs—your chin and mouth covered in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His mouth opened to speak, to give you a filthy comment you'd no doubt feel down your spine. Only for you to take him down your throat in one swift thrust. Tugging sharply on his pulsing balls to draw him right over the edge.

He came with a raw shout of your name, spilling into your mouth with enough cum to choke you. Until it began to leak out around your spread lips—trailing the sticky mess down your hand. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe—head pushed back into the pillow and back arched with the force of his release. And you kept going.

You licked up every trace of his spend with an eager tongue and sighed out moans. A hand yanked you up his body, fingers gripping your chin to keep your mouth open as you looked at him with eyes glazed over—your body covered in a sheet of sweat.

"Share," he rasped, tugging you closer.

Smiling, you cupped his chin and guided his open mouth towards yours. Allowing whatever cum remained on your tongue to drip down onto his awaiting taste buds. The shiver that ran down his body caused you to clench around nothing—empty and aching for this to continue.

He moaned, pulling you in for a kiss that had you clambering into his lap. Your tongue sliding against his and fingers delving into his bedhead of hair. The passion from last night still lingered in your veins. A silent plea for his touch to drag down your naked form; for him to consume you entirely. Yet you remained content like this—in his arms, lazily kissing until you had no choice but to come up for air.

"I can make us breakfast," you murmured, running your thumb along his cheek—your breath a warm caress on his face.

A hum purred in his chest, hands cupping your ass and kneading the flesh with a sleepy grin. "That sounds good."

"Got anything in mind?"

His eyes trailed down your throat to the way your breasts were pushed up against his chest. You felt your nipples tighten at the heat from his gaze. The want in his touch that left you craving for more. Vanessa really wasn't kidding when she told you he'd lock you in this apartment. Ravishing you every way he knew how; showing you everything he learned in his two hundred years on Earth.

"I do," he replied, voice low and thick with sleep.

"Yeah?" He nodded, an air of serenity lighting up his eyes. The sight felt new—unlike the Logan from last night—but you could feel the warmth of it slide down your spine. Encasing you in a cocoon of domesticity that thrived in the afternoon sun. "Pancakes?"

"Mm." Lips trailed along your jaw, tracing the line of your neck with gentle bites that were soothed by his hot tongue. "I've got somethin' else in mind honey."

Heat pooled between your legs, slicking your skin with a fresh wave of arousal. You felt his nostrils flare—your scent thick in the air and drawing out a side of him that begged to take a bite out of your plush form. He wanted to eat you alive. It sent a thrill of fear through his body.

You longed to explain that you felt the very same way about him.

A low growl emanated from your stomach, pulling him free from the shackles of lust that clamped on his neck. The flutter of your heart was only furthered by his soft laugh; hazel eyes now a bit clearer as he listened to the cues of your body.

"Actual food then," he said, tapping your ass lightly to shift you when he clambered out of bed. Searching for the jeans that were thrown to the side.

You tried to swallow the flare of disappointment that soured your stomach and Logan could tell. He knew you wanted to stay there tangled beneath the sheets. Your bodies stuck to one another long enough to cause discomfort. Fuck he'd never wanted anything more. He could sense the danger in letting his heart be filled by you—the fear of this going a different way.

Silencing it was near impossible when all he wanted to do was listen to it.

Pressing a kiss to your furrowed brows, he handed you his flannel. Watching in adoration as you struggled with the buttons. Similar to him twenty four hours prior.

Not bothering with his belt, he walked out into your living room—seeing the trail of clothing left in your wake of need. He gathered what he could, tossing your robe to the back of the couch. His boots placed by the foot of the coffee table. While you stumbled behind him on unsteady legs that still shook from last night's activities.

Pride flared hot in his chest at the sight; his cock twitching in interest at your messy state.

"I can make the pancakes," you announced, trying your best to walk to the stove without your knees buckling beneath you.

He laughed, reaching an arm around your waist to tug you back and into his chest. "I know how to make pancakes bub."

"And if I don't believe you?"

His lips pressed to your ear, teeth biting at the lobe. "I used to be a teacher honey. Who do you think kept those kids fed most of the time?"

"The other X-Men," you huffed, though the smile on your face told him you were more than happy to stay in his arms. "Weren't they professors too?"

"Yeah right," he scoffed. "Jean was considered a fuckin' fire hazard and forget Scott. He couldn't even find the kitchen if he wanted to." He walked you both towards the counter, turning you to sit you on it with a messy kiss that had his teeth digging into your lip—pulling at it gently with a groan. "Storm was better. She knew how to handle the little shits when they came up with strange food demands."

You smiled, curling your arms around his waist. "I like hearing you talk about them."

A flicker of grief filtered through the joy, reminding him of what he once had. But as usual, he smothered it with a puff of air—craving the taste of a cigar between his teeth he could bite down on. Something to let his pain sink into other than you.

"It's been awhile."

"Well you should talk about them. They're your family Logan."

His body went stiff, hands pressed flat to the counter, and you let the words sink into his skin. You watched his mind come to life with old memories long past. Good memories. Ones that involved cooking in a kitchen full of students and jokes with the people he loved most. He felt the weight of grief begin to lift off his chest with each moment of laughter, each piece of love he once forgot.

All the horrors he'd endured buried the good under a wave of bleak nothingness.

To have them back brought a light he forgot once belonged.

"They uh..." He cleared his throat, moving to grab a mixing bowl you stored somewhere deep in your cabinets. You weren't one for cooking often; the dinner with Logan being an exception. "I forgot how it feels."

"What?"

"Havin' them back. Even if it's just through this." He smiled—more to himself than anything—and flicked the stove burner on.

A part of you knew that was the end of the conversation for now. After spending decades avoiding his past mistakes—his trauma that might never heal—he finally felt safe enough to open the door. Even if it barely remained cracked enough for you to peek through. This was him taking a step towards keeping true to the promise he uttered against your lips last night.

The intent of staying no longer an echo of words that held no weight behind them.

There existed—between you and him—a sense of fulfillment that sprouted from the seeds of the you he knew before. A version that was capable of handling his grief, because you shared in it. You mourned his family for one sole reason: they were your family too.

If you could give that to him now, you would. Offering him a place of serenity despite the chaos he lingered in was enough. You could see it on his face—the peace he'd been searching for...now in his grasp. He'd be damned to let even a sliver of it go now.

The scent of batter being poured onto a grill filled your apartment, setting the hunger in your body alight with a new vigor. He moved with such fluidity and ease. As if he already memorized the layout of your kitchen from the last time he was here; his hand reaching for things in drawers you forgot were there. You traced your gaze along his bare back, down the curves and sinews of his muscles that rippled beneath his skin.

Skin you clawed at with need; that ripped beneath your nails and healed over seconds later. You longed to place your mark on his body, to see a trail of hickeys lead down into his jeans. But that remained a disappointment you could live with. As long as he let you try over and over again.

"Careful honey." His hand pressed to the counter, back hunching as his nostrils flared. "I gotta feed ya before anything else can happen."

"I'm not-"

He turned, eyes narrowing at the way your thighs pressed together to alleviate the growing ache. "Then spread 'em."

Your breath grew heavy, eyes lidded as lust washed over your body with a demand you couldn't fight again. The sight of you practically panting at the sight of his grin—so sure that he'd find you dripping onto the marble counter—left you clamoring for some semblance of control. Surely you could wait until he'd finished cooking. You needed food more than him.

But the longer he watched you—scrutinizing every part of your trembling form—began to shift that truth to something else entirely.

"C'mon bub. Show me the mess you're makin'." A whine echoed in the small kitchen as he flipped another pancake onto the plate. "Be good and I'll reward you."

Fuck.

Your legs parted, flannel pulled up, as you revealed the slick lips of your cunt that begged for his attention. A groan rumbled in his chest, his eyes greedy in the way he devoured the sight of you so ready for him to slip right in. The spatula nearly bent in his hand—the smoldering scent of a forgotten pancake became an afterthought as he stepped closer.

"Logan the stove," you breathed.

He flicked it off without looking, the small pile of pancakes slid beside you with a fork. "Eat."

"But-"

The pointed look shut you up within seconds, his hands parting your thighs to spread you even further. Until he was standing before you with intent hammering in his heart. Cutting through the pancakes, you moaned at the taste as it hit your tongue. Only for Logan to drop to his knees—his thumbs pulling you open for your slick to pour out right onto the counter.

"What are you—oh-" you gasped, a hand digging into his hair as his mouth sealed over your cunt with a husky moan.

He watched you while his tongue licked over every part of you. Plunging into you as you swallowed down the buttery pancake—your mouth parted with another heady moan of his name. The challenge was clear enough for you to understand without further questioning. You were meant to eat. As he indulged in devouring a breakfast of his own.

The tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, drawing a whine from your throat—the fork nearly slipping out of your hand. Only for him to grasp it and drag it back to the plate. He stopped, keeping his mouth directly over your throbbing center, yet never touching you. The action was enough to drag even a sane person to madness.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, the burn of tears stinging your eyes as you cut another piece and placed it on your tongue.

He continued with a growl. Sucking at you lewdly until all you could hear was the echo of his mouth moving over you wetly. His thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit, tongue thrusting deep enough to drink down every drop of you that poured out.

Having managed to eat two of the smaller pancakes, you felt the tendrils of pleasure begin to rush through your body—pulling and tugging at each nerve with a familiar heat you'd grown to love. He moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he ate you with a drunken hunger. An urgency to feel you pulse around his tongue.

"Logan I'm gonna-" You gasped, fingers yanking on his hair.

The fork clattered to the counter—your hips dragging along his mouth with a cry as you broke for him. Unlike before this felt like a rush of fresh air. An echo of love that lingered in his tongue, in his promise to keep you. Your chest heaved, legs trembling over his shoulders, and the ache of want still stuck to your skin like the humid air of summer.

He didn't quell your hunger.

He merely lit the match for something stronger.

"Good job," he murmured, catching your lips in a kiss that had you wrapping your body around him, arms twining around his neck. "Mm. Think I found somethin' better than fuckin' syrup."

The skin of your cheeks burned hot as he smiled; his tongue licking at your open mouth. Words were lost as you kissed him with an eagerness that threatened to break you. This is what you longed for. The promise of a life overflowing with small bits of joy. Pieces of a future that echoed with what you built together.

Certainly not a perfect Polaroid, but you supposed that's what made the sun spots so endearing. It captured the truth of what still had to be figured out. The pain that you'd one day have to face head on. But as he kissed you slowly, hands grasping gently at your flesh, you felt certain that things would be okay.

Because he would be there, standing beside you with his hand in yours, ready to face it with you.

The midday sun cast shadows along your living room, turning dark spots into shade you now lounged in. Logan sat at your kitchen table with a plate of food you'd made an hour after your kitchen escapades. The quiet of having him there, watching you with a warmth in his eyes that burned lovingly against your skin, left you craving more of this.

"I like you in my shirt," he said, pushing the now empty plate to the side.

You smiled, leaning against the edge of the table as he kissed your bare thigh. "I like you in no shirt."

"Yeah I bet bub," he chuckled.

The heavy press of his palm to your leg kept you still—even as you continued to burn from an hour ago. You didn't rush him into the act, because if anything you had an excess of time. One more day off from work left you with the knowledge that you would have Logan more times than your body could handle.

He was quickly turning into an addiction you held no intention of kicking. How could you? When the sweetness of him spread along your tongue like the finest whiskey known to man. When you were so devoted to a relationship that barely started to bloom. Yet you felt as if you'd known him your entire life. Your heart was waiting for him to appear—claim you without question—and you could do nothing but respond with a desperate yes.

"Still needy for me honey?" he teased, standing to his full height with a soft grunt, his hands spreading along your hips.

You scoffed, pushing at his chest; even if he did resemble a brick wall. "You're imagining things Howlett."

"Oh it's Howlett now huh?" He nipped at your jaw, smiling at your soft bubble of laughter that burrowed its way into the depths of his heart. "Thought you liked callin' me James."

The breath caught in your throat when his tongue slid along your throat, heat pooling in your stomach. "Logan," you sighed, fingers tangling in his hair to draw his face up.

"That's better," he growled, cupping your chin to connect his lips to yours.

The raw needy ache of last night reared its head in your body, screaming out for him as he licked into your mouth with a purr. One you felt reverberate through your chest and down to the very tips of your fingers. He was yours to kiss, yours to love, and without knowing it you managed to tame the lonesome Wolverine that begged for a hint of your affection.

"Can't fuckin' get enough of you," he mumbled against your neck, sucking at the tender skin as his hands kneaded at your ass. "Got me goin' feral honey."

"I don't mean to."

"I know." He pushed his hips into yours, dragging you along his jeans with a stuttered breath. "'M gonna fuck you."

Your eyes met his gaze—a pool of slick now staining the dark denim he leaked into. "Here?"

He nodded, teeth bared in a ravenous smile. "When you eat dinner here without me..." Tugging the flannel open, he sucked at the top of your breast. "You'll remember me bending you over this table."

No words could counter what he just uttered as if he was reading straight from a novel of your life. His hands guided you to turn around—your palms flat on the wood and breath heavy in your chest. The audible echo of his zipper sent a flare of want through your body. Slick now coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down for him to see the slight shine of it in the sunlight.

He grunted palm sliding along your cunt and jolting you with a shuddered breath. Though he'd already eaten—twice—he was intent on indulging in a dessert so sweet he would go to the grave thinking about it. His cock—hard and throbbing—slid along the lips of your cunt. Coating him in your slick with a soft puff of air that blew across the back of your neck.

"Press your cheek down for me honey," he said softly, hand gripping your neck and guiding you until your back had no choice but to curve—ass presented to him with a soft moan. "There we go. Lookin' like a damn goddess."

"Oh fuck-" you sighed, the ache between your legs now a searing burn that could only be put out by him.

"You want my cock?"

You nodded, a stray tear falling to the table. "I do."

He huffed, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. "Begging so sweetly for me. Can't believe you thought I'd leave willingly."

The comment was more for himself than you, but you mewled for him, hips pushing back into his until the head of his cock tapped your clit. Drawing a high pitched cry from your parted lips still shiny with his spit.

"Please," you gasped, nails scratching along the wood. You'd see the marks later and be placed back into this memory with a visceral shove. As he intended

"I know, I know."

Lining himself up, he pushed forward with a broken gasp—his face buried against your shoulder. The stretch was divine. Last night's pain dispersed the second he slid into you with one thrust, your walls clamping down around him tight enough to choke a moan from his throat. The breathy grunted fuck had your head spinning, another gush of slick pouring out of you until it leaked between you.

Yet he held himself there, panting against your back as his cock twitched inside you. Begging him to move. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, to find something in your mind to latch onto. Yet what remained when he already sent you to the stratosphere? What could you attach yourself to when you were floating above the clouds?

"Need you to move," you whined.

He kissed your ear, grinding against you with a rasped grunt. "So fucking tight bub. 'M tryin’ not to cum."

"But I want you to-"

Pulling back he thrust into you with a stunted shift of his hips—cutting off your words as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back when he began to move in earnest. His hips slapping against your ass and hand bunching the fabric of his flannel to pull you back along his cock. And you took it.

You were reduced to a moaning wet mess when he fucked into you with a growl. Searching for the place that would draw you over the edge with ease. The cry that wrenched from your throat—your body trembling in his grasp—told him he'd struck gold. A smile curved over his lips as he kept that angle. Thrusting into you with a needy growl you heard bounce off the cabinets and walls.

"That it?" His hand gripped your throat, pulling you up and off the table. "That's the spot huh bub."

A sob fell past your parted lips, tears spilling down your cheeks when his other hand found your clit—fingers pulling up the hood to press right against the nerve. A burning sensation began to build in your stomach. Unlike what transpired in the times before.

This felt like more. All encompassing and treacherous enough to split you right down the center.

Your fingers scrambled to clutch his wrist. Unable to discern if you wanted to push him away or keep him there.

Logan merely chuckled, going faster with ease. You choked on your spit, your knees buckling, but he merely clutched you tighter. Keeping you right where he wanted as he fucked you within an inch of your life. The wet squelch of his cock plunging into you only made the fire burn brighter. You swore you could feel the flames lick along your skin—eating you alive.

"Got no words for me honey?" he grunted, teeth biting at your jaw. "Don't tell me I fucked 'em all out of your head."

"Hngg-"

"What was that?"

Nails dug into his skin and a cracked sob ripped from your raw throat when you came. Your walls pulsing around him as something wet gushed down your thighs. It splattered against the table, causing Logan to feel as if all the breath was punched from his lungs. His fingers still moved, spreading the mess and pulling every last drop from your spent body.

Even as he fought to ram his cock into you without mercy—desperate for his own high. You whimpered with each shift of his hips, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with gasped breaths. And Logan had never seen a prettier sight than this.

He felt his heart clench, breath aching for lungs, as he fucked you through it. Until your body sagged against his with a sigh—eyes fluttering open to reveal your dazed expression. His heart twisted at the sight, cock throbbing with a needy ache he could no longer ignore.

"Y-Your turn," you panted, reaching up with a shaky hand to draw his lips to yours.

"Yeah?" His hips shifted forward and your mouth dropped open. "You want me to fill you up honey?"

The quick nod was all he needed to start chasing the built up high that threatened to strangle him. But the shrill echo of your phone across the table killed him like a shot to his head. He bit back a snarl of rage when your eyes lazily dragged to the face down device. Your heart picking up speed at the thought of who might be trying to contact you.

"I can ignore it," you mumbled.

The temptation to murder whoever was on the other line built up like bile in the back of his throat. But like a better man, he swallowed it down with a grunt. Pulling himself free with a hiss as his cock slapped against his stomach—covered in the sticky white cream that was your cum and aching for a release that would have to come later.

"Might be your work." He tapped your ass, carefully placing himself back in his jeans with a pained grunt. "Go on bub. I'm okay."

A glimmer of disappointment flared to life in your eyes before you were answering without checking the screen. The soft hello barely audible over the rush of blood that blared in his ears. He knew he wouldn't die from this. But fuck if he didn't feel like his body might combust at the sensation of being edged so hard his chest hurt.

"Wade?"

His head whipped towards you—a look of blistering fury crossed his face as he ripped the phone from your grasp. "You motherfucker," he snarled.

"You should really fuck with your knees Log. Save that adamantium skeleton." His voice was light, cheerful, and Logan had never wanted to rip him to shreds more.

"Are you watching us?" Your eyes widened and before Wade could give a snarky response, you were facing the still open window.

Wade stood across the street in his living room, waving with a knife. "Gotta give you pointers peanut. I've never been so hard in my life."

"Oh god," you sighed, covering your face. You reached for the phone; Logan gave it over before he could crush it in his fist. "Wade!"

"Whoa sweet angel! Don't go screaming my name after your man just made you see Natasha Romanoff in the afterlife. Did you tell her I said hi by the way?"

"It's rude to spy on people Wade Winston Wilson." His face fell as Logan snickered behind you. "Now I want an apology. Or I'm calling Nessa."

Though you couldn't see him well, you caught the way his face paled. "Right. I'm sorry. I won't be a perv next time. Even if you do have your window open and are screaming Logan's name so loud they can hear you on Knowhere."

"I wasn't-"

"And for your information FYI, I didn't spy. I just happened to see him and you bent over a table and assumed." He smiled, toothy and proud. "Can't fault me for being right on the money."

In an attempt to control your breathing (so as not to ask Logan to cut off Wade's limbs) you smiled through the flicker of annoyance. He was your friend. The person who was there for you in times when you needed someone. You couldn't really stay mad at Wade—even if the actions did call for the anger.

Especially not when you were still in the throws of recovering from the greatest orgasm of your life.

"I'd say I could do better, but now I'm not so sure angel face. I think Logan's won this round."

Surprisingly, you laughed. "He definitely won this round."

Logan stepped in closer when he was mentioned—his head dipping to hear Wade's voice through the phone. Unconsciously you found yourself leaning into his warmth—your body seeking out the gentle aftercare from the man who held your heart in his hands. His arm went around your waist, lips placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, and Wade groaned audibly in completely disgust.

"Would you get a room. God it's like watching an episode of WandaVision. Only this time it's the deleted scenes where they were allowed to actually fuck." He smiled, fingers forming a faux gun as he winked.

"We all know the robot dicking her down extravaganza exists Marvel. Don't lie."

"Your fault for peeking in on the show Wade," you replied, eyes fluttering shut as Logan fixed the flannel to cover as much of you as possible.

"I get it. I'm an unpaying customer. Therefore not wanted." He sighed, gesturing to no one in particular. "I mean what about those guys? They get a free show!"

"Wilson," Logan bit out, his claws sliding free to cover the top of your thighs.

Another weary (yet dramatic and totally Oscar worthy) sigh came through the phone. "I'll just dance the Lonesome Tango tonight. Don't mind me, taking all of the domesticity in so I can vomit."

You smiled when Logan nudged your cheek with his nose. "Goodnight Wade."

"Hardly good! Ness is out for the day and what about me? Don't I have needs? Am I not just a boy looking at the couple he's going to third wheel someday saying: please save some pancakes for me?"

The gasp that flew from your mouth was loud enough to be heard through the open window as Logan ripped the phone from your ear. Cussing out the man who stared at you with a Cheshire grin big enough to fill up an entire room. He waved, tossing his phone to the couch as he leaned out the window.

"Turns out you are gonna dance again peanut!"

Before you could shout a response, Logan was slamming the window shut with a growl. His claws slicing through the already fragile wood at the base of it as the lock slid into place. The middle finger he offered was all Wade got before Logan was dragging you back towards the bedroom; the decision to buy you some fucking curtains now solidified in his mind.

"Favorite movie?"

He groaned, dragging your legs over his lap as you curled into his side. "I've been alive too fuckin' long to choose honey. Tell me yours."

A wince overtook your features as Logan ran his hand up and down your bare leg—his gaze determined to trace every detail of your face a thousand times over. Hoping that over time he'd find new things to fall in love with. New pieces of you he'd grow to cherish. He settled on the shape of your lips—watching them move with each words you spoke.

"Okay don't laugh at me. It's a good movie." You toyed with his fingers, thumb tracing the spaces between his knuckles where his claws broke the skin to come free. "The Mummy."

His eyebrows pulled together. "Isn't that the one where they...fight a fuckin' mummy?"

You nodded, laughter falling on his perked up ears. "Listen! She's a librarian who gets to go on an adventure and fall in love. I'm an archivist who...well meeting you has been an adventure and..."

You fell in love.

Saying the words out loud felt wrong. Misplaced. Yet you'd never felt something sit in your chest so perfectly and feel like it belonged. Love had always been a complicated formula that felt impossible to crack. After all, no real theory ever mixed well with something so convoluted.

But nothing else could possibly make the same amount of sense with you as those three words did.

Logan watched every thought cross your face; every problem you struggled with now on full display for him to see. He willed himself to say them aloud. To simply let them fall free and settle in your heart with ease. But the last person he said them to now hated his very existence. They held an entirely different heart yet wore the exact replica of your face.

That only seemed to complicate the matter further.

So he pressed a kiss to the space between your eyebrows until the skin smoothed, and pulled you out of the internal battle you seemed to be losing.

"Tell me about your family bub."

You perked up, eyes alight with the joy that lingered from hours before. "My sister?" He nodded. "Oh well she's a teacher. Works at a high-school in the city."

"Guess you were bound to have another teacher in your life huh?" His heart twisted when you laughed, your fingers curling into his hair—toying with the sides without even realizing it.

"I guess so." You sighed, settling against his body. "It's funny, because I'd have never met Wade if it wasn't for her. This used to be her place before she—ya know—got married and stuff. Wade actually sold her the car I borrowed the day I met you."

His hand traveled higher, slipping to the curve of your hip. "Sneaky little fucker," he muttered.

"Although I think nearly killing me in the street is what really made me like him."

Logan jolted, his hand pinching your chin to face him. "What the fuck do you mean nearly killing you?"

The smile on your face did nothing to appease the fresh wave of anger that filled his body. If anything he only felt it eat away at him faster. Like a parasite with no cure. You were so calm about the entire situation. So nonchalant as you explained to him what actually happened.

That alone terrified him.

What if one day something like this happened again? What if the person who would cause you harm was someone he couldn't save you from?

Dread weighed heavy on his stomach like a rock he never intended to swallow. Even as you spoke he could feel the way it pulled at him. Dragging him into a darkness he'd never escape. He endured it once before, swam to the shore and climbed his way out, but to lose you was to put an end to his existence in this universe.

Logan couldn't die.

But he'd sure as hell find a way to if you were no longer by his side.

"I know he didn't mean to almost hit me with his knife. He was aiming for the guy behind me." You placed a kiss on his wrist, right above his pulse point. "Anyways we laugh about it now. Wade calls it fate. And since I met you...I kinda feel like he's right."

The breath caught in his chest. "Honey you got no idea..."

Lips trailed up his arm, sending chills down his spine as you placed kiss after kiss along his body. Right to his chest. Your tongue licked along his nipple—sucking it into your mouth and drawing a stuttered moan from his parted lips. His cock twitched in his jeans, the lost orgasm from earlier now raring to life with each delicate brush of your mouth on his skin.

Scraping your teeth on his pec, he felt his hips shift in an effort to find even a brief second of relief. You smiled at the feeling of him hard and aching against your thigh.

"You didn't get to cum earlier," you murmured, kissing along his jaw, nose brushing his cheek. The slight brush of your hand dipping along his stomach and down into his jeans drew a ragged groan from his chest. "Fair's fair baby."

Soft skin of your palm met his still leaking cock and the surprise that flickered across your face at the knowledge that he'd been dripping all night for you turned his mind numb. His kiss seared your entire being as you stroked him slowly. Logan shoved his jeans down the best he could with you blocking his way, simply to feel your palm drag down his length to cup his balls still covered in your sticky cum.

A breathy whine you never heard before slipped past his lips—his head falling back when your mouth latched onto his throat. Teeth and tongue sucking a mark that would fade within seconds. But catching a glimpse of the purple bruise made your heart flutter.

The wet slide of your hand filled the room with each pump. His hips canted up into your fist, fucking the slick hole you formed around him with panted grunts of nonsensical words.

It didn't build steadily like before where he held the capability of holding out. Now he felt helpless to the burn that forced its through his veins. The tension pulling taut in his stomach.

Only for you to pull away.

"W-What?" he rasped, his eyes flying open to see how you fell back on the bed—fingers popping open the shirt button by button.

"Come here," you breathed, hooking your foot around his hip. "Don't you wanna fuck my face baby?"

His mind went blank. Eyes dazed and mouth open as he watched you smile up at him—mischief shining bright in your gaze. You were an angel sent from who knows where bestowed upon him like a gift. An apology for all he'd gone through.

If the light he saw as he took his last breath was your face, he'd die a happy man.

Beckoning him forward with your hand on his thigh, Logan knelt above your chest. He could see how you longed for him to press weight against you—the feel of your palm against his ass telling him enough. But risking it would never be an option. He knew how much his skeleton as a whole weighed; you would not survive five seconds of it atop your body entirely.

"So pretty," you cooed, wrapping a hand around his cock as he shuddered. "Can I taste you Logan?"

He nodded dumbly, hand cupping the top of your head to keep himself grounded. Only for his soul to leave his body at the feel of your lips sucking him in. The wet heat of your mouth felt like a death to his heart. He'd never recover.

Yet one truth remained ingrained in the back of his mind.

He didn't want to survive.

"Fuck," he breathed, canting his hips down and into your waiting mouth.

The second his tip brushed the back of your throat, Logan knew he'd never last. He was a man lost in the depths of your body. Finding his way back to himself was never an option. You suckled on him with a whimper, letting him slowly thrust into your mouth as your fingers dug into the flesh of his ass.

Moans fell from his mouth with ease; words eventually following suit. "You fuckin' like this huh? You like me sitting on your face?"

Another muffled sound vibrated against his cock. His balls began to draw up slightly—thighs practically numb with the pleasure that consumed him. He sunk deeper, fucking your throat with a wet gasp, his body curving over yours and hand pressing to the mattress for stability.

"Fuck your mouth is heaven." He panted through the flames that licked at his spine, fighting to stay with you. "Gonna make a mess of you."

A jolt of lightning echoed across his skin when your hand slipped between his legs to fondle his balls, massaging the tender skin as tears dripped down into your hair. Whatever sanity he held left would wither away with the tendrils of his oncoming orgasm. But this isn't how he wanted to finish.

Ripping himself away, you barely got out half a question of what he was doing, before you were yanked into his lap—his tongue invading your mouth in a messy kiss. Spit spread across his cheek, but you seemed to get the hint when he grinded up into your dripping cunt.

"I promised to fill ya honey," he grunted, guiding your hand to wrap around his pulsating cock. "I don't break my promises."

With a sigh of his name pressed to his mouth, you guided him to your entrance, sinking down slowly to engulf him into your throbbing walls. A rough noise tore from his throat at the feeling—his body barely giving him enough time to comprehend that he'd been on the edge for far longer than he realized.

"Shit!" His thumb found your clit, working you over with quick circles that had your body curving into his. "'M not gonna last. Need you to fuckin' cum for me bub."

"Let go," you mumbled, dragging yourself up and off his cock. Only to sit back down hard enough to make him go blind. "Fill me up baby. Make it spill out."

His teeth set into your shoulder, claws sinking into your already ruined mattress to steady himself. He clutched you to him with a hoarse shout of your name as he came. Rope after rope of his spend spurted into your waiting body, drawing a soft breathy moan out from your swollen lips. You held him close, lips sliding along his neck, and talked him through it.

"Thank you baby," you sighed, grinding your hips along his lap. "Feels so good. So warm."

The lilt of your words bled with the adoration you felt for him in the center of your chest. The fact that you didn't finish didn't feel necessary when you had him like this. Entirely wrapped around you—face pressed into your chest and soul desperate to brush against yours.

"One of these days I'm gonna die like this bub."

You smiled, dragging your lips along his temple. "Would that be so bad?"

"Mm." Teeth scraped your skin as he slowly fell back onto the bed, taking you with him. "Probably not."

What lingered in the space between was a silence you reveled in. A peaceful kind of calm that created a bubble of warmth for the both of you to exist. Not completely in the world, yet never out of it entirely.

His body practically overheated beneath your skin, but you didn't mind the closeness. In fact, you found that you craved that above everything else. How he held you, allowed you to see the soft side of him that would normally be withheld.

This was the memory you'd hold close to your heart over the years. The one that'd always remain to give you a sense of peace in an otherwise crazy world.

"I'm really happy I met you Logan." The words weren't exactly what you wanted to say. But they felt close enough to exhibit the same emotion—the one that clawed at your heart, looking for a way to break free.

He hummed, dragging a hand down your spine. "Me too honey."

Settling atop him fully, you rested your ear where you knew his heart lay beneath layers of muscle and a cage of adamantium. The steady beat lulled you into a tranquil state. Where time no longer felt real and comfort became your only option.

Oh how you longed to remain here with him. Bound to nothing and no one, but each other.

note: i'm so sorry for what's about to befall these two.

[the-xolotl]

Peeping-drone.

Alastor x fem!Reader

ღ FoxingMoo Productions - Collaborative writing between me and @denki-69 ; They write the scrip, I write the fic.

ღ a/n: i had SO MUCH fucking fun writing this. thank you so much to Denki’s AMAZING scripting skills and editing bc my dyslexic ass cannot

SUMMARY: We all know about Vox’s voyeurism kink, and he can’t help himself when he sees ex-girlfriend with his worse enemy and he has a wank to watching her get fucked in 4k, 60 FPS

CW: she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, exhibitionism/voyeurism, belly bulging, cucking, monster fucking, demon Alastor, breeding, knotting.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. Thank you~

Vox is being double fucked, and not in a way he wants to be. First, he’d caught win of the Radio Demon being back in town, hanging around, and second, possibly even worse, His ex-girlfriend is hanging around that old-timely prick. He had found momentary solace that from what he saw through the many drones circling the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor seemed to show a disdain for the woman. However, that quickly turned sour for him that night when he decided to be a peeping-tom over Alastor’s open window. The deer demon doesn’t often do that. In fact, he never did. This “slip up” gave him the perfect opportunity to peer up close.

Boy, he is going to deeply regret it. His drone hovered closer to the window with the open curtain, clear view straight into his bedroom and Alastor’s bed. The camera focused and zoomed into the mostly dimly lit room adjusting the mic sensitivity to pick up whatever noise was going on in the room. Vox didn’t have to turn up the gain very high, though, as soon as the camera came in contact with the glass moans and squeals could be heard in the surround-sound set up of Vox’s television room. And much to his dismay, in all 4k glory, the images coming in through said drone on the big screens is of none other than Alastor with her, together, on his bed, fucking.

Vox short circuited, eyes widened and smile completely fell as he gawked at the screen in front of him; his blood ran cold as he watched her riding Alastor as he lazily pumped his cock into her tight cunt. He could see the way the deer demon dug his claws into the fat of her ass cheeks to spread them further apart. This made her mewl and spread her knees further apart around Alastor’s hips as she met his thrusts at the same slow pace.

“F-fuck… Alastor… please.” her voice is broken and breathy, spent as if they’ve been at this for a while. Her moans sounded pathetic despite how loud she’s still being, begging for more, faster and harder but Alastor was not complying.

Alastor chuckled handsomely, kneading the globes of her ass ceasing his movements but not before pressing her down on his cock to bury his tip against her cervix. “Where are your manners, my dear?” he crooned, smile widening mischievously as she whined loudly. Still, she didn’t dare move or even grind her hips.

Tears began to well up in her eyes, “Sir! Sir! Please, Alastor!” she begged, nails digging into his chest out of desperation.

Alastor adjusted his grip on her ass, hands sliding from her hips down to the bottom of her ass to better support her weight, pleased with the sound of her fucked out voice. “That’s better, sweetheart. I suppose I should finally give you what you want, hmm?” Alastor side eyed the drone buzzing outside of the window, the screen in Vox’s TV glitched for a second before coming back into focus, now making eye contact with the radio demon through the lens. He pulled her up to the very tip of his cock and slammed into her tight heat as he let her also push her hips down meeting in the middle. Alastor fucked into her with renewed fervour, burring himself balls deep with every hammering thrust.

The grip on her was a vice, hard enough to prick the skin. Tiny droplets ran down her thighs, his hands and stained Alastor’s hips every time they met. She nearly toppled over atop Alastor’s chest, having to grip the headboard to keep herself from falling completely forward. Taking the opportunity, Alastor took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling at the hardened bud making the demon cry out, her tears cascaded down her cheeks from the ecstasy that coursed ramped through her body. The stimulation was almost too much for her to take, her jaw went slack feeling the next orgasm building in her core.

Alastor finally tore his gaze from drone to grip her jaw tightly making them lock eyes and bringing her face close to his, “Tell me who you belong to, my sweet,” long tongue darting out to lick the tears off her redden cheeks, “I want you to tell me just how good you feel,” his voice dropping down an octave and radio static buzzing picking up.

“You! I belong to you Alastor!” she shouted, arching her back more tears cascading down her reddening cheeks. “Only you can make me feel this good, sir. I’m yours only!” She could barely form the words with Alastor’s fingers digging into the meat of her cheek. The stinging of his nails felt delicious, his cock nuzzled deep in her cunt was absolutely delirium inducing, making her eyes roll back.

Meanwhile Vox on the other side of the screen couldn’t tear his eyes away from the big tv. As angry as he is, the erection pulsating in his tight trousers is begging to be given attention. He groans loudly, palming himself through the fabric to the sound of her voice begging for more, Vox seethed hearing Alastor’s name sound so pretty falling from her lips in such a lewd manner.

Alastor’s smile turned maniacal, full of satisfaction, as he pulled out of her completely, making her whine loudly in protest. But it died in her throat when he forcibly pushed her on her back against the mattress.

“That’s right, my dear. Only me. You’re just my perfect little slut, aren’t you?” the deer-demon slammed himself inside her tight heat with one powerful thrust. He started a relentless pace, more brutal than the last, hammering hard enough to make her entire body recoil and slide over the sheets. She had to hold on to his forearm and biceps to hold herself in place so his fat cock could keep plunging all the way in, desperate to have this cock kissing her cervix. “That’s my good girl,” he purred, leaning over to steal her lips in a savage kiss. His tongue pushed its way into her mouth wrapping around her own. She felt like she was quickly running out of oxygen as if Alastor was sucking the very air from her lungs. She didn’t attempt to pull away and continued kissing, letting him swallow all her needy noises.

Vox couldn’t stand it anymore, shoving his hand inside to furiously stroke his rock-hard cock. Groaning and moaning along to her, whining her name as his free hand came to touch the screen. It was humiliating, disgusting, and aggravating all at the same time how intensely aroused he was and the fact that Alastor was fully aware he’s watching. He knows the smug, old time-y bastard is doing all of this on purpose but he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to.

“You’re such a good girl… I’m going to fill you to the brim, my dear. You better not waste a single drop,” he growled, finally pulling away from the kiss, leaving her gasping for air, “And I’ll keep going until you’re full of my fawns. Would you like that, sweetheart? To be bred by me?” She could barely process any of what he’s saying but she nodded, fucked completely dumb, her pussy fluttering and tightening around him.

She couldn’t even form a coherent sentence without slurring her words, “Yes yes yes yes yesyesyesyes! Please breed me sir. Want to be so full, please.” Alastor has nearly achieved fucking her completely into submission, she was so pliable under his touch now.

The more she mindlessly begged, the faster his knot swelled and he was ready to drain his balls into her waiting womb. Her voice only made him grow more feral, demonic form taking over as his antlers and limbs grew in size stretching her cunt even wider. “As you wish, my dear. You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you?” his voice becoming more gravelly, radio static so intense it started interfering with the camera that was still pointed directly at them.

She screamed, clawing at his chest, the sheets and anything she could grab. Fresh warm tears stinging her tear-burnt cheeks, “Please.. please… it won’t fit! Alastor!” voice so broken and horse.

But Alastor wasn’t having it, his large hands wrapped around her waist— better said her torso “I’ll make it fit, my dear.” With brute strength his knot bridged her soaked entrance.

His tip also spread over her cervix making it into her womb, releasing his massive load into her, “That’s it… good girl.. I knew you could do it.” He stilled his hips, making sure that not a drop would spill out of her. The sensation alone caused her to squirt, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Everything became too much all at once; the overstimulation hit like a fucking truck, her orgasm washing over her aching body. She shook uncontrollably; she clung hard to Alastor in an attempt to keep herself grounded somehow, but her brain is too fuzzy and her eyes are barely open.

The deer chuckled, licking and kissing the remaining tears off her face, “You’re such a good girl. It’ll get easier with time, don’t you worry, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck and cheek, a little sob falling from her lips feeling the sting on her cheeks from crying. But even in her delirious state when her face turned towards the window she caught sight of the drone and her eyes went wide. “You put on quite a show for our old pal. Now he knows who you belong to, isn’t that right, my sweet brat?” He kissed her cheek again, holding it gently for the camera.

Vox shamelessly zoomed in with the hand that was covered in his cum, focusing the high definition lens on her blissed out face. She whined at the realization Vox had been watching and hearing that whole thing, she squirmed as her cunt pulsated, turned on by the fact she had been viewed in such a depraved state.

“Tut-tut. No moving. You’re not wasting a single drop,” Alastor chided pushing even deeper into her. Her back arched painfully screwing her eyes close finally letting herself fall in the feeling of fullness. Full to the absolute brim, so much so her belly protruded prominently.

Alastor rubbed at her belly with a wide Cheshire smile, “Is this the only way to get you to cease being such an infuriating woman? You’re always so good when I stuff you this much.”

At that point the post orgasm shame was hitting Vox too hard, feeling half disgusted with himself he moved away from the window and closed down the stream. He could only stare at his soiled hand, contemplating.

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[madaqueue]

Lost Cherry

pairing: yuta okkotsu x f!reader

themes/content: dark content. yandere/stalking. non-curse modern college au. language, smut. scent kink (?), alcohol consumption, drugging (no nsfw during), oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.8k

a/n: "i love this guy and whatever undiagnosed anxiety disorder he has" is my fav yuta quote i've ever heard and honestly...me too (and yeah this is based off the tom ford perfume what about it)

Yuta noticed everything about you. How could he not, when the essence of perfection, an angel reincarnate, was here before him?

He truly saw you, his dark eyes boring into your soul as he soaked in your every move, every reaction, every thought.

When you met him your freshman year of college you thought he was sweet, albeit a little strange, his intense gaze putting you slightly on edge for a reason you couldn’t quite pin down. But nevertheless he was always the perfect gentleman, holding every door for you, driving you to class when it rained, bringing you your favorite foods when you were sick. He did it without question, as though caring about you came second nature to him, like it was his one true state of being.

The two of you continued growing closer over the years, sleeping on each other’s couches when study nights ran long, going to concerts of a band you loved together, cooking your favorite foods. It was almost uncanny how similar you two were, sharing the same taste in everything, Yuta’s smile never faltering as you gawked at him in disbelief when he recognized the obscure reference you made or when he happened to guess your coffee order. “I guess it’s just fate,” he’d grin as you laughed in awe.

But it’s not fate, he thinks. Fate would never be so careless as to risk letting you slip from his grasp; no, it was him. Time and time again he outsmarted the universe, foiling its plans to separate you. He knows you because he sees you, understands you, in a way no one else ever will (he’ll make sure of that). It wasn’t hard, really - he was always naturally observant, calculated, patient. All he needed to get close to you was a few chance meetings, accidental run-ins, where he could show you just how much he cares about you. And you, being as sweet and kind as you are, fell right into his open arms.

He loves you because he sees you.

He sees the way your lips curl into a smile as you sip your drink from across a crowded bar, a slight frown forming across your features as some pathetic excuse for a man tries to speak to you, making an idiotic joke you politely laugh at; he sees how you fidget with your hands, pulling at the chipping nail polish during class, a tell-tale sign you weren’t understanding the material (and an opportunity for him to explain it to you later while you studied); he sees the way you move when you’re alone, when you think no one’s watching, when you finally let your guard down and ease into the truest form of yourself.

It’s almost like you wanted him to see you, presenting yourself to him like a book with the pages peeled open and the cover ripped off, making it impossible for him to look away. It was only natural for his eyes to wander the words of your soul, mastering the lines and sentences of what makes you you.

So it’s no surprise when he gifts you a perfume that perfectly encapsulates your energy, your essence. After months of searching he finally found one that met his standards, living up to his mental representation of who you are. He knows you’ll love it, and you do - you begin wearing it everyday, the sweet scent of your skin filling his senses whenever you step into a room. The warm, amber notes become equivalent to you, a signal of your presence, a smile gracing his lips every time it wafts by him.

The one thing he doesn’t tell you is that he bought a second bottle, just for him, his best kept secret, the cherished liquid that evokes vivid memories of your laugh, your eyes, your skin, your voice, your everything when he smells it.

It’s harmless, really, when he sprays it on his pillow to help him fall asleep, calmness immediately washing over him as he pictures you there, holding him. He could practically feel the warmth of your body in his empty room, imagining how your soft hands would trace his body.

And when he wakes up, the scent of you still lingering, a smile graces his face as he nuzzles into the cool pillow.

It’s not his fault when he grows dependent on it, spraying the liquid into the air as he screws his eyes shut, picturing you. The way you’d kiss him, how smooth your skin would be, how soft your lips are, how your hands would feel wrapped around his cock, how warm and tight your cunt would feel around him. As he slides his fist around his length, he can’t help but moan your name, the idea of you filling his mind.

You.

One word, all-consuming. You occupy his thoughts, cloud his mind in bliss, every waking second. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

So when he sees you at a house party, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go in for a hug, why the fuck do you smell different?

“New perfume?” he asks, trying to hide how visibly taken aback he is as he pulls away from you.

Nodding, you take a sip of the drink in your hand. “Mhm,” you hum over the music. “Friend got it f’me. Y’like it?” you slur slightly, swaying in his grasp.

“I-it’s nice,” he stutters, his fingers beginning to dig into your arms.

How could you?

Glancing down, he notices the nearly empty cup you cling to, mind racing as he formulates a plan. “Want me to get you another drink?” he asks, steadying his thoughts and tilting his head innocently, hiding the rage he feels behind his dark irises.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, lip gloss glowing under the LEDs, as your eyes lazily make their way up to his. Reaching out a hand you ruffle his hair, placing a sticky kiss to his cheek. “You’re s’sweet Yuta,” you murmur against his skin, holding your glass out for him to take.

This would be sweet, if it wasn’t for the vile, traitorous perfume that suddenly overwhelms his senses. It’s too floral, too dry, too not you.

“Be right back,” he purrs, placing a kiss to the top of your head before stepping away, afraid that if he stayed any longer he would do something he regrets.

Besides, he can’t pass up this opportunity: he gets to show you he can take care of you, how much he adores you, and get rid of the chance that anyone thinks they know you like he does.

When he returns, you don’t even notice the weird taste in your drink; why would you? You trust him, like you should. When your body starts to feel too heavy, legs struggling to keep you up, you lean on him, like you should. When your head begins pounding and you just want to lay down, you let him take you home, like you should.

In the comfort of your apartment, one all too familiar to him, he helps you change into pajamas before bundling you up under the blankets of your bed. You look so sweet, so innocent, as your head rests against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering as you ease into sleep.

Your mind is cloudy as you rest, body still pulsing with each beat of your heart, suddenly sensing his weight shifting from where he sits at the end of your bed. “Yuta?” you whisper weakly.

He could melt just hearing you call his name, your voice like honey. “Yes?” he responds, turning his head over his shoulder to face you.

“Stay,” you murmur, reaching a hand out to him.

God, he could die happy right here. He could afford a few hours of sleeping next to you, right? It’s not like there’s any urgency now, he’s already lined everything up, now he just has to knock it down.

“Okay,” he breathes, getting under the covers next to you.

The warmth of your body envelops him as you lazily wrap your arms around his torso, uncoordinated motions to keep him, your one source of stability, close to you. Your thoughts are fuzzy as you fade into Yuta’s softness, letting him overtake your mind. Shifting his weight he leans into you, head resting on yours as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you against him, the scent of your shampoo lingering on your hair, a familiar one, a kind one.

He waits until your breathing slows, soft snores leaving your throat as you rest peacefully against him. Gingerly untangling his body from yours he rises, making his way to your bathroom. Sitting atop your counter is the target of his task: the sacrilegious bottle of perfume. It takes so little for him to knock it off the ledge, glass shattering as it hits the tile, the strong smell suddenly overwhelming the confined space, making his stomach turn as he pictures you in it. Never again.

He softly pads back to your bed, careful not to wake you as he rejoins your shared warmth under the comforter. Overwhelmingly pleased, his heart races as a contented grin spreads across his face.

When you question him about it the next morning, it’s easy to brush off.

“Yuta?” you question sleepily after you return from the bathroom, “Do you know what happened to my perfume?”

Normally the frown across your face would haunt him, tugging at his heartstrings to see you unhappy, but now it takes everything in him to not show his excitement. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “maybe you knocked it over last night?”

“Mmm, probably,” you hum, settling back in next to him as your head rests on his chest, hoping you don’t notice how his heart races at the contact, your mind still too foggy to realize you never even told him that the bottle broke. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry I got so drunk, I don’t know what happened.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassures, his arms reaching around you, “I like taking care of you.”

“Thanks, Yu,” you murmur, nuzzling your head further into the softness of his t-shirt.

It’s so easy, he thinks. Everything with you is just that, easy: it’s easy to make you trust him, easy to look after you, easy to love you.

So when he sees you a few days later, eating lunch outside between classes, it’s easy for him to go over and sit next to you, the grass tickling his shins as he crosses his legs.

“Hi, Yuta,” you smile, your cheeks slightly rosy in the sun as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

Before he can respond, a familiar scent hits his nose, the one that is so, undeniably, you. “You smell good,” he blurts out, unable to contain his excitement.

A giggle escapes your lips at the sudden compliment, the sound soft and sweet. “Thanks,” you laugh, “it’s the perfume you got me, so I’m glad you still like it.”

“O-of course I do,” he stammers, “I picked it because it’s perfect for you.”

Looking up at him, you don’t miss the slight redness covering his face as his adoration for you begins to slip through the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is continue giggling, the most angelic sound in the world echoing in his mind, as he melts before you. “You’re too sweet, y’know that?” you ask.

Popping one of the cherries you brought for lunch into your mouth, a comfortable silence falls between you as Yuta continues staring at you in awe - how could you be so perfect? He has to stop himself from nearly drooling as he watches your tongue work the pit from the flesh of the fruit, the way your lips move absolutely tantalizing. He has to have you.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to face him. “Want one?” you ask politely, holding the bag out to him.

As you shift the richness of your perfume again wafts towards him in the breeze, tearing down any remaining walls of shame or embarrassment left encasing his feelings for you. Suddenly he leans forward, one hand going to the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is messy, needy, as his tongue slides into your mouth. His body presses against yours, desperate for more of you, as you fall into the grass. His hands are everywhere, finally able to feel the one thing he’s been thinking about for years, as they roam your body.

Pulling away slightly, you breathlessly try to get his attention with a call of his name, but he doesn’t stop, only shifting his weight to kiss down your neck. Everything about you overwhelms his senses as he sucks against your skin, leaving a trail of bruises behind. His.

Your back arches off the ground as he moves lower, lips trailing kisses down your abdomen over your clothes as his palms grasp at your tits, your stomach, your ass, any part of you he can find, his touch hot. When he begins undoing the button to your shorts, a wave of panic overtakes you as you process what he wants.

“Y-Yuta,” you stutter, your hand reaching down to tilt his chin up, forcing him to face you. As he does, your face flushes at just how feral he looks, his pupils blown wide and lips parted as he pants expectantly.

“Please,” he whispers, “need to taste you,” his eyes moving back between your legs as he continues removing your shorts.

“B-but-” you begin, worried about the chance of being seen if someone were to walk past the small field you sat in, your gaze moving across the open space.

“There’s no one here,” he explains without looking up, sensing your nervousness. “I’ll make you feel s’good, I promise.”

Glancing around, you confirm the absence of any other students or professors, biting your lower lip nervously as you acquiesce.

Frankly, Yuta didn’t care if there was anyone around - once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He tugs your pants off, pausing only momentarily to admire the wet spot in your panties before pulling the flimsy material out of the way, his mouth attaching to your cunt. He moans as his tongue meets your folds, so much better than he could’ve imagined. The sound vibrating against your skin elicits a sharp gasp from you, your hands instinctively reaching down to his hair.

“Yuta,” you whine as his tongue glides up you.

God, he loves the way you say his name; he needs to hear it again.

His palms trace down your body to hold onto your thighs tightly, nearly leaving more bruises against your skin as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. Swirling around your clit he whines as your hips move up, desperate for more friction, his heart swelling at the idea that you need him just as badly as he needs you.

After years of loving you he knows just what to do, exactly how to move to make you feel good, his compendium of your body finally paying off. Slipping his tongue into you, another whimper escapes his throat as you moan his name. Bringing one hand down he roughly circles your clit with his thumb, using the exact pattern he’s seen you do more times than he could count, one he knows is guaranteed to bring you closer and closer and closer.

As your grip on his hair tightens, he knows it’s working.

His mind is flooded with you, your smell, your taste, your sounds, your everything. He loves it, he wants to crawl inside you and live in your heart forever, just like you’ve done with his. He wants to make a home in the corner of your mind, getting to see the most private and intimate thoughts you have that not even he could be privy to.

The only thing tethering him to reality is your soft voice calling his name, the most soothing rhythm in the world as your body begins to shake, heat building as you approach your release.

“Yuta,” you whimper, “m’close.”

Warmth spreads across his body, knowing he’s the one making you feel good, taking care of you, loving you, like nobody else ever could. His motions pick up, messily grinding his tongue against your cunt as you pull him into you. Everywhere he presses feels like flames, heat pricking over every inch of your body.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer as you come undone on his tongue, a series of whines reverberating against you from Yuta as he continues messily lapping you up, desperate for anything more you’re willing to give him.

When he finally pulls his face away from between your legs he’s immediately back on top of you, his lips pressing into yours with the same feral desire. His breath is hot against yours as you taste yourself on him, the entire thing overwhelming your mind as your body comes down from its high.

Pausing for only a moment, his eyes flutter open as he looks down at you, a gentle sheen of sweat across your features, grass surrounding your hair, cheeks a soft pink. Everything about you so, absolutely, undeniably perfect.

“Mine,” he whispers to himself, so quietly you nearly don’t catch it, before his lips are on yours again.

[helluvapoison]

Lucifer x Imp!Reader

warnings: imp bigotry, heavy topics, lowkey angsty (happy end, i swear)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Secret relationship, baby!

• Let’s get into the hard part first, shall we? The discrimination of Imps isn’t something Lucifer set into motion. They helped him build Hell into what it is today—! Which is… flawed. Fuck, there’s no excuse. Know that he doesn’t condone it and he’s ashamed to admit he allowed it get this far

• That saying “history repeats itself”? Yeah, Hell isn’t immune

• It’s an elephant in the room situation when your and Lucifer’s feelings come into play. Along with the enormous power imbalance. He would never take advantage of that, by the way, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there

• Those issues are in the beginning though. Yes, it takes a lot of time and many painful conversations but now? Undoubtedly worth it

• Lucifer is quite proud of himself for the charade he concocted. You pose as his employee! No one would question it and you could hang around as much as you like! It’s perfect, right?

• “It sounds like a shitty romcom plot.” You snort

Lucifer’s smile is unwavering, eyebrows high on his face as he awaits what he longs to hear.

“But?”

Sighing, you softly return his smile, “It’s perfect.”

• And like a shitty romcom, it is

• Naturally, there’s ups and downs

• For Lucifer, the worst is that he hates keeping you a secret. It’s not that he wants to dish it live with Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench, he’s rather private as is, he’s just so— happy! He wants to show how proud he is to be yours! Unfortunately, that would do more harm for all of Hell. Selfish as his wants might be, he wouldn’t do that. Especially if it meant putting you in danger

• Occasionally he takes you to meetings and events. You try and slip into the background, supporting him from the shadows. Even from the other side of the room, Lucifer’s eyes will find you standing amongst the other Imps. He accidentally ends up ignoring whoever’s trying to rub elbows with the King of Hell

• (Honestly, it’s a miracle no one has found you two out yet. His longing gazes are far from subtle)

• Sometimes those outings don’t end well. A blue blooded dickbag might’ve dumped their drink on you or shoved you because you were “in the way�� or berated you in front of everyone. Lucifer sees red and the entire event is cut short via a demonic rage. On a positive note, his publicity goes off the charts! “King of Hell defends his people, no matter the race!”

• (A motherfucking miracle, I tell you)

• Lucifer likes to take care of you when those incidents occur. He feels guilty. For everything. Reassuring him has always easy for you in any other situation. This one just bleeds into something personal. A failure

• So, you let him take care of you. It improves his mood bit by bit. Could be pancakes! No matter the time of day, Lucifer’s go-to are pancakes. (He’ll simply die all over again if you let him feed you too) Could be a bath for the two of you to share, he loves washing you and putting a bubble beard on your face

• Sleepovers can be a tad difficult to pull off but no one disturbs him in the mornings. He loves having you in his arms all night long. Kissing your horns, forehead, eyes, nose and lips— yes, in that order— before wishing you only the sweetest dreams

• Lucifer has a rubber duck that looks uncannily like you sitting on his desk at all times

• Oh! And despite being an Imp, you’re still taller than your beloved short king. It’s slight but he adores the difference

♡ a/n: if i had a nickel for every time a blue blood fell in love with an imp, i’d have /three nickels HAHAHA

[starboyyoongi]

9:26 pm – yoongi + voyeurism

i was going through my notes after finishing up something and came across this little thing that i wrote about voyeurist!yoongi. hope you enjoy! xx

notes: reader is black afab

YOONGI’S NOT A CREEP, he swears.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

he begrudgingly closes his blinds and lets out a long, deep sigh. he doesn’t know how he got here. here being standing in front of his window and peering into a stranger’s window for his own entertainment. it wasn’t so much entertainment as it was him indulging in his own little fantasy. a perverted one at that.

yoongi didn’t mean for things to get this far. it was supposed to be a one time thing, something he’d forget about and remember in a few months or maybe in a few years. something that he’d tell his friends over drinks and laugh at. something that would be nothing more than another random thought that crosses his mind once in a blue moon.

the problem, however, is that he didn’t forget. he couldn’t even if he tried to.

after all, it isn’t every day that you catch someone sprawled out on their bed with the curtains opened wide and their fingers deep inside of them. it was the kind of shit that you see in movies or pornos or randomly on your twitter feed after hours. not at one thirty in the afternoon whilst you were folding laundry.

up until that point in time, yoongi had never noticed you. he didn’t even know that there was someone living in the apartment directly across from him, but then again he didn’t care to. people moved in and out of buildings every day so it wasn’t a big deal.

he had been down to the last few pieces of clothing and was in the middle of folding a pair of shorts when he heard something fall to the ground. out of his peripheral, he could see that it was a figurine that hoseok had gotten him recently. he had ended up losing a piece of it somehow and as a result, it stood at an awkward angle and occasionally fell over.

muttering to himself, yoongi grabbed the figurine off of the floor and placed it back on top of his dresser. after making sure that it wouldn’t fall again, he glanced out of his window. he quickly scanned everything and was about to walk away when something caught his attention.

or rather someone and what they were busy doing.

yoongi was no stranger to seeing women masturbate. he’d seen it so many times before while scrolling through porn sites and was always intrigued. especially when it came to the giant toys that some of them had in their videos. he had no idea how they managed to fit certain things inside of them, but he wasn’t about to start questioning it.

seeing it in person, however, was something completely different. and it didn’t take him long to start watching the woman across from him. yoongi would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel uneasy and weird about it at first. after all, you were a complete stranger and technically he was invading your privacy by continuing to look at you.

but when he saw how you looked as you brought yourself to an orgasm and squirted all over your sheets and fingers, he decided that maybe watching a stranger through his window wasn’t a bad idea.

yoongi told himself that he was just looking one time and that would be it.

but then one time turned into two times which turned into five more times and before he knew it, yoongi had become your (unofficial) peeping tom.

which brings him to now where he stands in front of his window with a tent in his pants and a familiar feeling stirring in his stomach. he’s hard. painfully so, too.

he slips his hand into his shorts and firmly grips his cock. the feeling of his hand alone is enough to elicit a moan from himself. yoongi briefly looks back at his window and contemplates whether or not he should open his blinds back up.

give her a show, min, yoongi thinks to himself.

the thought is enough to turn him on even more and make him squeeze his cock. he feels the pre cum starting to drip from his tip and briefly wonders what it would be like to have you cum all over him. he wonders how pretty you’d look as your pussy squeezes him tight and your body starts to seize up from the wave of pleasure washing over you, moans falling from your parted lips. he can almost hear you calling out his name in a sweet, almost melodic like tone as you orgasm.

“yoongi, yoongi, yoongi.”

“oh, fuck…” he whispers to himself. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

without a second thought, yoongi lowers his shorts enough for his cock to spring free before impatiently gliding his hand up and down his hardened length. he takes a second to spit on his hand before continuing, frantically stroking his cock. it’s not long before he feels his own orgasm approaching, hips bucking forward in a desperate attempt to reach his high.

yoongi’s body stiffens and he loudly pants as milky white cum spurts out all over his hand and shirt. as he lets out a low moan, yoongi imagines what it’d be like to watch his cum leak out of you. he imagines himself spreading your legs wide to get a better look before fingering it back into your gaping hole. he’d stick his fingers in your mouth and let you taste him, too, reveling in how warm your mouth feels around them.

yoongi knows that he’s perverted, and maybe sick, too, for thinking about it. but then again is he really? is it really that bad getting off to a stranger and a naked one at that?

it’s not like he purposefully went looking for you.

you’re the one who left your curtains open, not him.

you must have known that somebody was going to look eventually…

…right?

yoongi shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh. “you’re pathetic, min,” he says to himself.

right.

[stellarbit]

I loooove your tbb fics! Can I pretty please request a pervy tech fic? Like anywhere between a bit awkward kinda pervy to full weirdo :))

Word Count: 6.4k Pairing: tech x fem!reader Warnings: voyeurism, piv, creampie, panty fetish, peeping tom, exhibitionism, breeding kink Summary: Tech discovers a night time hobby of yours, one he doesn't realize is solely for him ps: imperfect proofreading

As your neighbor, Tech was aware of some of your avenues for relaxing. Your patio was often strewn with evidence of projects and hobbies- an underused hammock full of blankets and books, altered clothing strung up to dry, tubes of paint, and even a few tools from when you swindled Tech into teaching you how to repair your comm devices. Hobbies that, as seen by your failure to repair said devices, were often unfruitful.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to show up unannounced to the Batch’s home with a dinner invitation. Each time you’d have a feast prepared big enough to feed a family of Wreckers. Tech learned those were the worst weeks for you.

Some of your other outlets were less obvious, and by all means too private, for most to notice. Then again, most didn’t have a direct view into your bedroom. A view you often left unguarded and on full display.

Tech couldn’t blame you for not realizing your vulnerabilities. Afterall, his sight line was little more than a sliver. More than enough to witness you and your more nocturnal hobbies.

The first time he witnessed you was by chance while calibrating his visor. Its sensors picked up on movement coming from the direction of your home. There was a small bit of light coming from your bedroom, but everything was still - you weren’t even in sight.

Until you walked by your window in a robe. You walked to your bedside, just at the periphery of his view, and began digging through your night stand. With your back to him, you straightened out, tossed whatever item you found on the bed, and dropped your robe.

You wore only panties.

Up to that point, Tech only ever saw a naked female human through the screen of his datapad. Between battle and traveling with his brothers, he’d hardly even been alone with a female. 

Tech rushed to his window, zooming in enough to see the freckles of your back. In person and in motion - you were breathtaking.

When you revealed your front Tech nearly passed out. An ache bloomed in his pants so suddenly, his hand slipped over his crotch. He’d applied pressure to ease the ache and unintentionally replaced it with pleasure.

As you climbed into bed, Tech noted every bit of you that jiggled and the shadows that accentuated your curves and committed them all to memory. After cozying into your bed, you licked your fingers in a way that dried Tech’s mouth. Your fingers slipped into your panties and began rubbing circles beneath the fabric.

The noises that followed were lewd, low, and put a rhythm in Tech’s hand. From outside of his pants, Tech worked himself in time with the lazy circle of your hands. Your hips gyrated, head arched into your pillow, and your free hand found a nipple.

That night Tech didn’t get to find out what exactly it was you’d brandished from your night stand. He didn’t realize how close he’d edged until you pinched yourself and curled forward on a moan. The sound of you shuddered through him and pushed him into ecstasy without even taking himself out of his pants.

Instantly, Tech receded into his room feeling more exposed than you actually were. Panting, Tech fell onto his bed and plucked his helmet off. He twisted it to face him and, as he expected, found it wasn’t recording. A mistake he wouldn’t make twice.

Then again, Tech reasoned it was most likely something he wouldn’t see twice.

The whole experience made bumping into you the next day all the more jarring. He’d been too lost in his datapad to notice Hunter was no longer leading him through the busy street. Hunter stepped off the path to tend to Omega and only a few steps later you and Tech collided. 

You’d been equally as distracted, landing you both on the ground with you sprawled out over Tech. He lay beneath you, stunned and overtly aware of how you teetered over his leg. The sweet spot between your legs was pressed tight against his thigh.

Tech wanted to grip your hips and roll you against him just to hear the sounds you made the night before up close. He settled for sitting forward and letting gravity slide you against him.

Embarrassed, you steadied yourself by his shoulders, laughing, “Bet you wish you had your armor on now.”

“It crossed my mind.” He said, though he was sure your intentions for the armor differed from his. It was going to be difficult to hide the amount of blood rushing to his groin - an issue a well placed codpiece would have nullified.

His urgency to get the both of you back up grew with the ache in his cock. Pulling you against him, he used his military finesse to haul you upright. Taking advantage of the situation, and a risky gamble along with it, he held you against him as he lowered you to your feet. Your pelvis and abdomen brushed his groin and he could only hope you didn’t notice anything else.

“Are you alright?” He angled his head around you, trying to spot any bumps or scrapes.

Your hands slipped from his shoulders, resting on his chest with a light pat. “Perfectly alright.” After another few moments of standing in his arms, you craned your head back with a coy smile. “Tech?”

His name in your mouth turned his insides liquid, rendering his usual composure less certain.. “Yes?”

“You can let go now.”

The firm grip he had on your ass fully registered and in an instant his hands were in the air. He didn’t blurt out an apology, it was an innocent mistake - or at least he knew he could pass it off as one. One that, now that he got a feel of you, he fully intended to make again.

Hunter and Omega walked up beside the two of you, further breaking Tech’s focus. Looking between you, Hunter smirked, “You two take a tumble?”

You kept Tech’s eyes a moment longer, then shifted a pleasant smile on Hunter and Omega, “Just me being clumsy.”

“Hunter,” Omega pulled at Hunter’s arm, turning an excited eye on you, “Can she come tonight?” That caught your full attention, you invited them over far more often than was reciprocated. 

“That’s up to her,” Hunter replied, eyes still twinkling with mild amusement at the earlier scene.

Glancing at Tech for some cluing in and getting nothing, you amusedly asked, “And what would that be?”

Omega bounced in place, excitedly telling you about a game night Shep and Lyanna had planned. While it sounded like a lovely time, you had to turn her down.

You crouched to Omega’s eye level, “Thanks Omega, but I have a quiet night in planned.” With a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder, you promised, “Next time though.”

Tech had fully planned on participating in the game night, and was even looking forward to being the ultimate victor, but his plans changed the moment he heard yours. That night, Omega tried her best to convince her brother to follow through yet he remained firm.

He excused himself from a night out under the guise of needing to address a technical malfunction in the home, a pretext no one had questioned given his usual dedication. Yet, there he was, not soldering wires or calibrating sensors, but dimming the lights of his domicile to feign vacancy.

You were under the impression the Batch wouldn’t be home and Tech intended to keep it that way. If you risked discovery while they were home, he was desperate to find out what you’d do with more privacy.

Before that he needed to learn what was in your nightstand and only had a limited window of opportunity to do so. Where you were, he wasn’t certain, but Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker left for Shep’s and your lights were out. Just enough cover for him to get in through your window.

He stood near your bed, clenching his fists as the vision of you contorting flashed through him. Pushing through the temptation of the memory, he pivoted to the nightstand only to pause when he felt something beneath his foot.

Tech stepped back, knelt, and plucked up a pair of familiar underwear. The same as you’d worn the night before. The material was thin, soft, and slightly damp. He’d done enough follow up reading last night to know why.

He was about to examine them closer when the sudden sound of your front door sliding open jolted him back to reality. On instinct, he ducked low, slipping out the window just in time to avoid being caught. Outside, Tech hid in the shadows, his breath shallow as he peered past your curtains. He still had, unintentionally, your garments in hand.

You came into your room faster than he’d expected, flipping on the light and immediately shedding your outerwear. Mindlessly, Tech rubbed the pair he had between his thumb and forefinger as he watched you leave a trail of clothing until only panties left.

Padding over to your bedside, you leaned over your nightstand, giving Tech a full view of the thin strip of fabric between your legs. Without thought, Tech brought your panties to his face and took in the scent of you, wishing he was experiencing it firsthand. 

When you turned, he had to slide back an inch just to avoid your eyes. Just as he’d done, you paused at your nightstand. Something was off to you. The realization dawned slowly, and your movements stilled entirely when you noticed the absence of your underwear on the floor.

As you turned slightly, looking out the window with suspicion, Tech held his breath. He felt a rush of anxiety as you slowly drew closer, until your suspicion gave way to a smile. You held a little device in your hand Tech didn’t recognize even as you sauntered over.

Your focus was beyond him on the empty home next door. And by Tech’s calculations you were looking directly at his room.

You stood in a blind spot for Tech. He had to retreat far enough that he couldn’t see anything but your silhouette in the light. Tech watched your shadow hold onto the window frame, heard a sudden buzzing, and ached as you touched the device to your body.

On contact your entire body flinched from anything but pain. He slowly lowered your underwear to his lap. The sinful sounds coming from you puppeted Tech into carefully undoing his pants to expose himself. 

With your panties in hand, Tech gripped himself as he continued to watch your shadows move with your escalating noises. In a way, he felt close to you beyond his proximity. He glanced down at the soft fabric smoothing over his cock, remembering why they were damp and how you’d looked pleasuring yourself.

Looking back to your shadow, he nipped every urge to reveal himself. He knew nothing about approaching this situation or how he’d convince you into partnering with him. And though he knew he wouldn’t resort to it, he did contemplate begging.

You’d been fantasizing about Tech since his squad first arrived and, although he seemed to show little interest in you, you kept a keen eye on him. You’d noticed your underwear weren’t where you thought you left them. As opposed to concern, a desperate idea clouded you.

What if he finally spotted you?

For some time you’d been on an exhibitionist streak, willing Tech to just look your way. You knew it was a long shot and it still heated your blood. Perhaps curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Your grip on the window frame was the only thing keeping you on your feet as you notched up the setting on your vibrator. You were too wrapped up in a fantasy of Tech’s hand at your clit to keep your eyes open until the fantasy positioned him behind you.

Just the idea of him penetrating you took you to the cusp of release and tossed you over. As the heat in your coil boiled over, you curled forward, barely staying up right and moaning loud enough that, had he been home, Tech would’ve definitely heard you.

A plea to the vision of Tech spilled from you, “Oh, right there, yes! I’m cumming for you, Tech.”

In normal conversation, your saying his name distracted him. Calling to him, pleading for him, instantly ruined his composure and his orgasm quickly followed yours. He came into your panties, working hard to keep his breathing quiet despite the ecstasy fogging him.

Exhausted, you slumped onto the window pane. You leaned back, eyes drooped shut and a lazy smile lilting your lips. On a sigh, you shrugged and shoved off. As Tech began tucking himself away, he leaned around the window in hopes to catch one last glimpse of you.

Just in time, he caught the tail end of you stripping your underwear off, leaving them where they fell, and walking out of your room.

Tech did a quick risk analysis, weighed his options, and quickly reached over the threshold of your window. He snatched the garment from the floor and slipped into the night.

He returned well before his siblings returned, careful to keep the lights dim as to not raise your suspicions beyond what they already were. Tech couldn’t help himself from checking on your movements, disappointed to find you clothed and casual, eager to relive the moment you called for him.

It became a game for Tech, one of piecing together the patterns of your schedule to catch you alone

Weeks later, in the comfort of your home, Tech helped you repair some comm devices. One in particular, tied to your most incessant client, immediately came to life with an angry message of dissatisfaction and a new deadline. 

Stress pushed you over the edge and unfortunately, now conveniently for him, in front of Tech. You almost threw the device against a wall, a knee jerk response that broke the device in the first place, but Tech intercepted it.

“If you’d like my continued assistance,” Tech scolded, setting the device on the table between you. “I’d advise against immediately rendering my repairs useless.”

You didn’t apologize, choosing rather to slump down in your chair with your head on the table. Mumbling into the wood grain you said, “I should’ve just asked you to do this tomorrow.”

Tech set about fixing the last device, sparing you a quick glance. “You can always reply to clients tomorrow.”

A long, low groan came from you as you pushed back into your chair. “Always tomorrow. There’s always something tomorrow.” Leaning with your elbows on the table, your head fell into your hands. “Even on a day off, I’m constantly stressed.”

Tech looked up from his repairs, twirling his spanner to point in your direction. “If you do not learn how to manage your stress, your cortisol levels will quickly become a detriment to you both physically and mentally.”

By the time Tech finished his nagging, your head rested in one hand and while your other strummed out an impatient rhythm. Fully irritated, you sassed back, “Tech, I’m beyond that point by now.”

“Then I suggest you focus on finding a suitable outlet.” Tech shrugged, lowering his visor and spinning his spanner back into position.

And, as your neighbor, Tech was already aware of some of your avenues for relaxing. Some that he was eager to encourage.

With the final repairs almost finished and seeing an opportunity to spend another evening in your company, Tech set aside his spanner and removed his helmet. 

As he gathered his things, Tech said, “I think the rest can wait until tomorrow. You should get some rest.” 

Almost on cue, Omega came through your front door, bounding over to where you and Tech sat. 

Bouncing with energy she shook your arm excitedly. “Game night at Shep’s! You’ll come, won’t you?”

Your promise to Omega snuck up on you, having completely slipped your mind for weeks. Hating to disappoint her, but exhausted all the same, you massaged your temples and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Omega. I have a lot of work - not tonight.”

She immediately deflated, pouting. “Ahh, you work too much.” Narrowing a look at Tech she muttered, “Both of you. Tech’s been holed up most evenings too.” 

A sneaking suspicion crept up your spine and, as if he felt it too, Tech stiffened. You’d always noticed that the home was rarely left with only one of the Batch and you’d never noticed Tech alone in the evenings - you knew because you always looked for him.

Lifting your head from your hands you smiled innocently at Tech, who was pointedly looking anywhere but at you. “I didn’t realize.” You mumbled.

“Why else would the lights be on when we’re out?”

You kept your eyes steady on Omega, unwilling to let her in on the growing secret between you and Tech. Those lights were rarely on at nights without someone inside.

You chose to roll your shoulders as lazy ‘I don’t know’ as opposed to answering, your eyes sliding to Tech who was busying himself to follow Omega out the door. 

Omega gave you a poor, pitying look, gripping your shoulder as if to imbue you with strength. “You know where we are if you need a break.”

Humming, you barely heard her, too focused on thinking back on all the small sounds outside your window, misplaced items, and creeping feelings. The two clones were making their exit - Tech his escape - as you quickly slid from your chair and a comm device hidden in your palm.

Without permission, you lunged on Tech and slipped your arms around his torso. Under the guise of a thankful gesture, you tucked the device into one of his many pockets. It was only up to the Force if he’d notice.

You pulled back and held his upper arms for one last smile. “I appreciate everything, Tech,” you finished, keeping your smile warm but your eyes sharp, searching for any hint of reaction to the small device now concealed on him.

Tech paused, his body rigid under your touch for a moment before he managed a stiff nod. "Of course," he replied, his voice as neutral as the mask he often wore. But beneath that mask, you caught a fleeting glance of surprise, or perhaps suspicion.

As Tech turned to leave, his usual movements seemed slightly off, a subtle indication that your actions might have unsettled him. He made no sign of noticing the device, but you knew better than to assume anything with Tech.

The two left and you settled into planning your approach for the night. It was risky, bordering presumptuous, to assume Tech had been watching you all those nights. More than anything it was exciting. It was everything you’d been vying for.

Carefully, you monitored the Batch’s movements until Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega left for Shep’s. Different from other nights, the lights stayed on. 

A smile hit you as you added another piece of evidence towards Tech being caught. The lights in the majority of the house were on, sans the lights in Tech’s room. The sensation of being watched, residual or otherwise, whispered to you again.

You kept your comm device close as you set your plan in motion. Dressed in your evening robe, you rested against your open windowsill. Mindful of maintaining a casual air, you attempted to relax into the space by letting the night air brush your skin. Deliberately, you lifted one leg to rest on the sill, allowing the fabric of your robe to drape away enticingly from your thighs.

The fantasy of exposing yourself to Tech versus the very real possibility almost choked your plans. Still, the temptation was too great and your fingers found their way between your thighs.

Pleasure dissolved any remaining apprehension as you fixed your eyes on Tech’s room. Was he watching right now? You always looked for the red glow of his goggles, its absence always the reminder that your imagination was likely getting away from you.

As your core warmed and the heat of your arousal bolstered you, you pulled your comm device to your face. On baited breath, you activated the device and, as if speaking too loudly would unravel your hopes, quietly said, “Tech.”

His name echoed as if the relay was nearby. You froze, attempting nonchalance as you repeated yourself. Once again there was an echo. One that was much closer than you anticipated. 

Cautiously slow, you scoped the area outside your home all the way to Tech’s empty window. Your heart rate nearly burst your eardrums until Tech’s voice nearly stopped it altogether.

Tech cringed as he sighed, “I am to your left.”

You twisted sharply, finding Tech within reaching distance and shaking his head in his hand. Excitement trembled through you as he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

His expression was a delicate mix of dejection and frustration. “You slipped it on me when you hugged me, didn’t you?”

“You caught me.” You couldn’t hide the humor you found in your own words.

Not one to let things drag and ready to extradite himself from the situation, Tech got to his feet to excuse himself. All thoughts of escape vanished when his eyes inevitably fell to your lap. Your hand was no longer in the mix, but your robe remained open.

He only allowed himself a glance at your exposed sex before meeting your eyes again, now with a glint in them. Since discovering your nighttime habits, Tech planned for an array of your reactions should he be discovered. None of them involved outright glee.

You extended a hand to him, a silent request for assistance. Tech accepted, noting the hand he accepted had been the one between your legs. He assisted you to your feet, and when he tried to let go, you tightened your grip, holding him in place. 

With a small step back, you gave another silent request - another he accepted.

Tech followed your lead, ducking in through the window and breaching the space he’d spent so long cataloging. In the moment though, his focus was only on you as he tried to gauge your thoughts. 

You were smiling despite discovering him in such a compromising position. In fact, he noted, you were in a similarly compromising position and yet you carelessly floated past him. He turned with you, surprised to see you drawing your curtains.

“I thought you preferred them open.” He quipped.

You paused, your hands still on the curtains, and looked back over your shoulder with a coy smile. “Only if I think it’s you looking in,” you murmured, sending a shiver of delight through him.

Your response straightened his posture. It’d been a challenge, but Tech had long accepted that he was a part of your sexual fantasies. Being the keystone of those fantasies was never even a consideration for him. 

Puzzled by his own oversight and with a pang of wounded pride, he asked, genuinely curious, “Might I ask when you discovered me?”

“Just now.” Your brevity and upbeat tone enticed Tech to follow you as you stepped past him. A shrug of your shoulders drifted your robe farther down your shoulders. 

“It was always just me hoping, but-” you paused as you climbed onto your bed, the movement causing your robe to ride up just enough to tease Tech. You settled back against your pillows with a contented sigh and continued, "learning you’ve been sneaking around in the dark certainly aided my suspicions."

Feeling an ounce of shame, Tech’s shoulders fell slightly with his confidence but shored up immediately. 

At some point, Tech had convinced himself that your exhibitionism, while mildly on display, was likely something not intended for a true audience. In fact, outside of his name on your lips in the throes of pleasure, he’d rarely received your sole attention.

Yet the more of your smile he saw the more sure he was that he’d been wrong about all of it. And, for once, Tech was thrilled to be wrong.

“Are you going to join me?” The soft question brought Tech back to the present, the foot you outstretched to him inviting to come closer. His brown eyes raked up the soft skin of your leg all the way to where you propped yourself against the pillows.

You swallowed, eyes wavering for a moment. “Unless this is too much.”

His lips perked into a subdued, cocky smile. You were a vision just for him. One more that became more unexpected with each breath. His fingers ached to explore every inch of your skin.

Tech took the final step onto your bed, smoothing his hand over your foot and up your shin as he moved in on you. “Oh, this is far from too much.” 

As he climbed towards you, you settled further into your pillows, bracing yourself for Tech. “And I’d be remiss to not witness up close what I’ve studied from afar.”

Settling in close, Tech sat back on his feet, and adjusted his goggles as he took you in. Head tilted down, Tech looked up through his goggles as his free hand trailed up your inner thigh. When his fingers were inches from the apex of your thighs, his other hand quickly followed suit. 

Each second Tech strung out between you only enflamed your urge to shove him back and find out exactly what he tasted like. But you patiently waited, feeling your mounting arousal beginning to leak out of you for the technician. 

Tech leaned in, those brown eyes pinning you in place as his fingers pressed into you and spread your legs to accommodate him. The sudden rush of cool air over your wet folds made you realize just how eager you were for Tech.

It took only a second’s glance for Tech to realize the same. He kept his touch light on your legs as he sat back again, this time with you on full display for him. Tech removed his gloves, caught your eyes again and cocked his head to the side in amusement.

“I never realized patience was your strong suit.” The low, teasing tone of his voice set you on edge

On an aroused shudder, your knees made to squeeze together but Tech was quick to keep them apart. “It appears I spoke to soon.” He commented in the same amused tone. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve been so eager for me to see.”

Your hand was between your legs before his sentence was finished and his hand blocked yours before your could manage more than a light touch. In place of your touch, Tech’s fingers slid over your as he leaned across your lap.

His fingers, more calloused than you expected, pulled a whine from you as he gave you barely there swipes. While he teased you, he explored your night stand. “I hope you’re not being shy now,” He said as you heard drawer shut and he came back to your front.

Tech drifted close enough to consume your entire line of sight. As he spoke, Tech dipped two cool digits into you, coaxing you forward. His calm exterior cracked when he first moved his fingers in an exploratory curl.

He swallowed, eyes dipping to where his fingers disappeared inside you. Hesitation, unsureness, flashed through him. He cleared his throat, meeting your eyes and making another slow curl of his fingers, this time with more pressure.

“How does that feel?” His question, accented by a break in his voice, told you this was something new for him. Your response came in clenching around him, fueling his confidence.

On a rushed, hushed, breath you pleaded with the man, “Keep going.”

“I plan on it. But first,” Tech paused, placing a familiar object in your hand. “I’d like you to use this.”

A new wave of blood flushed through you as you followed suit. Maintaining eye contact, you switched the vibrator on, the sound hitching Tech’s breath. The feel of it, the shock it sent through you, rinsed the tension from his shoulders. 

Only the hum of the toy hung in the inches between you. With every motion of his fingers, your breathing hastened. Tech adjusted his touch with your reactions, but when he saw a small smile come to you Tech knew he’d found something good.

Breathlessly, Tech choked out, “I’d say that feels good.”

He added pressure to his rhythm and your patience immediately wore out, tearing your resolution in half as you angled your lips up to his. The moan that came from him set something loose in you. The both of you moved in on the other, your hands barely fitting between your bodies.

His lips parted the moment your tongue brushed him. For a moment, his mouth stayed open and still, only his tongue twitching as he let yours roam over his until his lips closed around your tongue, gently sucking on the soft flesh.

The sensation melted you, giving Tech the chance to roll you onto your back. Tech fell with you and never broke the kiss. There was no hesitation remaining in Tech, only hunger and a desperation to hear your next noise.

A warm, mounting pressure inside you finally made you break away from Tech and toss the toy aside. Turning just enough to pull your lips from his you said, “Tech, I need you.”

Tech didn’t ease up on tasting you, laying kisses down your chin to the crook of your neck. Between kisses he responded, “You have me.” The hand you pushed against his groin had him rolling his weight against you on a moan. 

“All of you,” You insisted. 

Tech pulled back sharply, suddenly slowing the momentum between you. His eyes were wide, darting between yours. “You want-”

Your hands cut him short as they pulled in by his pants. “Yes.” The word was a demand.

In some shade of shock, Tech gently pushed himself off of you while easing his fingers from you. On a brave inhale, Tech’s hands took place of yours, freeing you to relax back. A flush singed his cheeks and tips of his ears while he kept his eyes down on the task at hand.

You watched while he freed himself, casually slipping out of your robe to bare all of yourself. When he was one motion away from doing the same, his eyes found you again. You felt it, the mutual anticipation for this very moment.

His eyes drifted over you, devouring the feeling of seeing you nude just for him. Tech’s eyes followed your hand as it moved to the bud between your legs. You rolled one finger over your clit and he met your gaze again.

“You are as breathtaking up close as I imagined.”

A swell of heat met your touch at his words. You were certain of it - this man was going to completely undo you.

He bumped his goggles into place with a knuckle, eyes falling to the small distance between you. “There is one problem.”

You leaned up slightly, confusion, and a drop of horror, coming over you. In a mix of impatience and worry you asked, "Like what?”

Tech bit his lip, finally revealing himself to you. “I don’t believe I’m going to fit,” he confessed.

It didn’t take you long to see why he’d think that. You’d fantasized plenty of times about this man, what he’d taste and feel like, and you’d imagined a dozen times what his cock would look like. You were far from disappointed.

He was long, the length of him extending beyond the hold he had on himself. His girth you hadn’t expected, but it did not disappoint. If he thought two of his fingers was what you could handle, his girth would certainly give him pause about your limit.

A sudden thought stilled you.

“Tech,” you ventured softly. “Is this your first time?” Your question didn’t soften him, but he did pass you a look that was hard to read.

“Is that a negative attribute?”

“No!” You pushed up onto an elbow. Careful not to break the heat between you, you asked, “You want this - you want me, right?”

Tech swept his hand over his cock, pumping himself in response. “Clearly.”

Slowly lowering yourself, you flashed a feline smile at him. “Then you’ll fit.” You stretched a hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in another invitation.

He let you guide him back over you, his expression softening as he caged you below him. You smoothed your hands up his arms to his shoulders, bracing yourself as you gyrated your hips in search of him.

Tech kept himself propped over you, holding your eyes as he brought the head of his cock to you. You both inhaled at the connection. There was no pause, no further reassurances needed, as he pushed past your threshold.

The noises you made mirrored his own as the flared edge of his glans spread you and his length speared you. As always, Tech was at least partially right- his size was more than you’d been prepared for. 

It was a conscious effort to not clench around him and remain relaxed as he slid inside you.

When he could move no further, Tech loosed his breath and ducked his head. He observed the spot you were joined as he shallowly pulled out and thrust back in, deeper this time as if he was seeing just how much he could push.

A mesmerized look came over him as he kept that tempo of short, deep thrusts until you couldn’t hold back anymore. Weeks of anticipation and a wild need to fuck this man made you think you wouldn’t last long when you finally had him. How he pinpointed your sweet spot while fingering you added evidence to the thought.

The way he filled you, stretched you into ecstasy, proved you right. 

Tilting your hips against him, you worked with Tech for longer, faster motions. Drawing closer, you caught him in a kiss that drove his cock deep against your womb. You moaned into the kiss, continuing to roll your hips against him while your clit ached for release.

Mumbling into the kiss you admitted, “Tech, I can’t take much more.”

Tech pulled back just enough to confidently say, “I assumed that was the point.”

Your admission didn’t inspire Tech to stop his work. He picked up his pace again, giving you long, slow thrusts as one hand extended beside you. Gliding his tongue over your lips, he tasted your mouth as you had his. 

His tongue was trailing yours when he squeezed your between you and vibrating pleasure hit your core.

Gasping against him and splayed out on the bed in front of him, only able to arch against the pleasure coursing through you.

“T-Tech!” You called out in warning.

Tech grit his teeth against your scaling release. “Don’t hold back, I won’t either.” He’d been ready from the moment he felt the velvet of your insides.

Unwilling to miss the full view of your orgasm, Tech propped himself up to see you writhing, laid out before him. With one hand Tech positioned your hips towards him  and with the other he kept your toy in place. 

He had yet witnessed your eyes roll back as they did just then. He drove into you until an open mouthed smile bloomed over you and you convulsed around him. His eyes widened, but his pace didn’t slow.

“Are you?”

Wordlessly and avidly you nodded as your orgasm crashed through you. White hot bliss threw stars into your vision. Waves of pleasure broke what little of your composure remained, rendering you dazed and moaning.

It was too much for Tech. Euphoria he’d never experienced broke free inside him and throbbed through his cock. He’d barely been supporting himself on his knees and they all but gave out as he came inside you, spilling his seed against your womb.

Tech attempted to fuck you through his own release, but ended up seated deep inside you, stretching you with each throb of his cock.

Moments went by with only the two of you panting against each other. Your shaky hands wandered to his shoulders, your fingers curling up over his neck and into his, now slightly damp, hair. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he nuzzled into your touch. “That was magnificent.” Tech sighed.

“Sorry it was so quick.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, still pleasantly raw from all of your noises.

Tech shrugged, eyes shut as he said matter of factly, “The end result is all that matters, I suppose.”

“End result is one way to put it.” You chuckled. A small, anxious part of you spoke up, “Tech.”

He blinked away some of his fog as he hummed in acknowledgment, “What is it?”

“I want to do this again,” you whispered up to him.

Tech rolled his hips into you in response, reminding you that he was still inside you and still more erect than you’d expect. “If we are to succeed, that would be the wisest course of action.”

Your brows furrowed, head pushing back into the pillows to search his face. “Succeed in what?”

“Impregnating you, of course.” Tech saw the realization hit you and his expression mirrored your own. “Is that not what sexual relations are ultimately intended for?”

You opened your mouth, but words didn’t come out, only a bubble of giggling. “Not always.”

A renewed flush heated Tech’s face as the misunderstanding dawned him. You’d rarely seen him embarrassed, but found it charming nonetheless.

In a gentle tease, you probed further, “Is that what you intended?”

“Well, I-” Tech uncharacteristically stammered. He gave a little cough, saying, “I didn’t mind the idea.”

“Of breeding me?” You clarified, bringing your legs around him.

Tech rolled his eyes, recognizing your attempts at instigation. “That is one way to put it.”

Teasing or not the idea of it, of Tech wanting that, stirred something in you. Locking him in with his legs you brought him in for another kiss. “Then we should probably go again.”

He huffed a laugh, conceding, “I would say you are correct.”

taglist: @bruh-myguy-what @jetii @baddest-batchers

[lillylvjy]

So I made a promise.

a/n// hello! So I kinda just grinded this out in two hours because I had a lot of brainrot over this and shit. So this fic is based of Promise by Laufey. Love that women. But it’s kinda shit, so please be nice to me. I haven’t wrote in so long and shit so- here’s this. Enjoy!

Warnings// yelling, overthinking, wil and readers relationship is- rough, big used as a nickname, and if there’s anything else, please tell me!

wc: 1.3k

Not edited.

It’s been 16 days.

Two weeks and two days.

23,040 minutes.

Without him.

And you both thought this was for the better. At least you did. To break up and just leave each other. Wil was never home because he was always picking up gigs and shows to do. Which never made you mad but, you needed your partner at home sometimes too. You needed someone to hold you and tell you you’re ok and that they love you.

You never got that.

And you barely called him unless it was late at night when you came home, exhausted from your shift. And he’d be in America, getting ready for a gig, laughing and joking around with the band as he called you. The video scuffed and audio cutting in and out, but it was good enough. For now.

But every other time you tried to talk to him or ask how he was doing, he’d ignore you. He’d look at the message, and ignore it. And you’d wait all day for a response until it gets to that time to call him and he’d just ignore you then too. Too worried about what Joe was saying or what Mark was doing.

And you were happy he was having fun.

But it felt like you were nothing to him

And that- that’s worse than anything possible to you.

So when he got back to Brighton, made himself at home and pulled you into an hug, you could tell you needed to do it.

“Hey Wil, we need to talk.” You begrudgingly said to the man in front of you. With tired eyes from jet lag and doing so much in the last couple months, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“What’s wrong love.” He placed a hand on your cheek as he leaned down to look at you. When you made eye contact with him, you saw his eyes fill with care and alarm. You frown up at him as you lean into his hand.

“We don’t work Wil. We can never work. You’re going to be traveling the world all the time because of your music and I’m so happy for you. But I’m stuck here. And I need you at times I can’t have you. And it hurts. A-And it feels like we’re slowly slipping apart because of everything and I don’t like the feelings I have right now, so. Wil- we need to break up-“ Wil’s hand slipped from your cheek as his face fell. He walked over to the couch and placed his face in his hands. “Wil it’s nothing you did! We just don’t see each other anymore and it feels like I don’t know you anymore or I’m just like- a being that you only know when you’re home! And I hope that’s not it. And the thoughts I have at night when you don’t answer me make me hate myself for thinking them-“

“So you think I’m cheating? You think I forget about you? You think I don’t know how you feel?! I need that too! I think those thoughts too! I need you! I-“ Wil cuts himself off with a choked sob. Quickly gathering himself, he stands up. “I agree. We need to break up. It’s only for the best.” Wil said in the coldest tone he could possibly muster while wiping his face.

“Wil-“

“No! No it’s fine. We both agree on this yeah? I already a have some clothes packed so I’ll stay with Tom and James for a couple days and then come for the rest of my things. See you soon, bug.” Wilbur whispered the last part as he leant down and kissed your forehead.

Holding back tears, you watched him walk out the house hesitantly, not wanting to leave you like this. Wanting to make up for all he hasn’t done for you. And you vise versa.

Once he closed the door behind him, you went up to it and placed your head on the cold wood, letting out endless amounts of sobs and cries as you slid down the door. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you hid your face in the fabric of your sweatpants, scared that someone could see you and scrutinize you for crying.

But you came to the realization that, this is for the best. It will get better and you’ll learn to live without him. Right?

It’s been 16 days.

And you promised yourself you wouldn’t call him. Wouldn’t seek him out and hold him. Wouldn’t ask Tom how he was doing. Nothing. He’s gone. He doesn’t need you anymore.

He forgot to pick up his clothes. The ones that smell like him still. The ones that you’d always steal and wear around the house. The ones that he’d always tell you not to wear but secretly laid them out in places for you to pick up and wear, loving the way you look in his clothes.

You still wore them. It helped.

And at night it was scary. In your head.

Overthinking everything.

Did he actually cheat and that’s why he was so willing to agree? No. No it’s wil! He wouldn’t do that.

Did he fall out of love? No. No his words were genuine.

Why did he say ‘see you soon’ and not ‘goodbye.’?

Now that was a question you couldn’t answer.

But that’s when you realized. Realized that you’d rather be something with Wil than nothing to him. Even if it hurts you both in the long run.

It’s been 16 days.

16 long days of looking at his contact and not calling him.

16 days where you had so much restraint that it almost hurt you. But each day, that wall slowly crumbled.

You knew you and Wil could never work. It was common knowledge. The constant moving around, longing to be with each other, and slowly killing yourselves with how much thinking you both do about each other. Hurtful or not.

Nothing added up. There was no solution.

So you kept that restraint up as much as you could.

But.

After 16 long days.

You called him. That night. After walking through the town, needing some air and to get something to drink.

You swear you saw him. It had to be him. He was smiling and laughing with a group of people that you’ve never seen before. But as your got your hopes up and walked closer to the group, you realized that wasn’t the man you hoped to see.

You rushed home and sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. Looking down at your phone, you let the barrier break and pressed the call button.

After the first couple rings, you gave up. He wasn’t going to answer. Why did you think he would? He’s probably so much better without you-

“Bug?” You heard a groggy voice ask you over the phone. You’re held your breathe as you heard the name. The name he gave you.

“H-Hi, Wil.” You whispered out as you exhaled the breathe you were holding for too long for your liking.

You heard him let out a shakey breath and some shuffling, most likely blankets. He sniffed before he started speaking again. “H-How are you? What’s up?”

“I- Nothing much.” You said as you played with your hands, hesitating to get your next words out. “Hey, do you maybe, wanna come over?”

“Yes! Uh, yeah. I’d love too.” You could hear the smile start to grow on his face as he talked. A small one started to appear on yours.

“Ok. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

So, you broke the promise. But whether it hurts you in the end or becomes a beautiful thing. You’ll at least be something to him. And he’ll be something to you.

taglist// @wiipes @frogwithashotgun @mysticalsoot @kit-is-a-weeb @athenaisaflower @gaytoadwithapopsicle @anon-duck @lotusanonymouse @art3m1s-adelia (and if you want to be added, feel free to ask!)

[drunkonimagination]

tlh cast going ice skating, because it's that time of the year 🌨️⛸️

cordelia: incredible, an absolute queen, no one is doing it like her. she's a combination of natural skills, immaculate technique and that extremely elegant bearing that just carstairs own. everyone looks at her in awe (especially james), like 'can't believe she's a professional ice skater and we didn't know? this girl is insane'

james: he's fairly good, of course nothing to do with cordelia, but he handles it. he is content of going around the rink two, three times...but then he gets easily bored. this of course unless cordelia skates on his side...then he could spend hours ice skating and simping for his wife.

christopher: read a bunch of books about ice skating, took a little look at the rink, checked the ice's thickness and consistency and...fell at the first step on ice. but after that first slip he actually learns pretty quickly and everyone is kind of amazed. he even manages to do some little jumps emulating cordelia.

grace: she's trying, she's really trying, but ice skating is just not her thing. she remains very close to the border the whole time and refuses to take even one little step ahead. at some point christopher offers her his arm and after a little moment of hesitatation she takes it. he starts rambling about science almost immediately and the girl visibly relaxes. she even enjoys the whole experiences, since kit doesn't leave her alone for a second.

matthew: as infuriating as it is (cit alastair) he is a natural. his movements are kinda rough and he doesn't have cordelia's perfect technique, but god if he knows how to skate. he's incredibly skilled and definitely the fastest. he also acts like a little kid once he steps foot on the rink: he gets super excited, wants to make speed races all the time and skate backwards just because 'it's so fun!!' ('christopher's brother is way more mature' cit alastair pt II)

lucie: same kid attitude as matthew but less skilled. she's more on james's level but has twice fun while skating. she puts everyone in a good mood with her sparkling excitement and is basically a born motivator, like 'you can do it kit!! yeah!! that's what i was talking about!! by the angel, daisy that was awesome!!! please teach me!!!' everyone just adores her.

jesse: a fan of the border like his sister. he really didn't want to do this, but lucie's adorable face makes him do things he would have never imagined. he even learns some fundamentals after lucie drags him with her in the middle of the rink. and he also falls several times, but lucie's laugh makes it completely worth it <3

alastair: he's the only one who can keep up with cordelia. initially no one really noticed because he didn't want to draw attention, but when cordelia challenged him? no way he would just back off. so he gave his little perfect performance shocking everyone in the process. but he didn't spend much time showing off (even if he definitely could if he wanted), because he had something else to take care of.

thomas: he's that something. the man is absolutely terrified, looks at the ice rink once and immediately goes 'nope, this ain't for me'. but alastair insists like 'c'mon tom, just give it a try' 'why can't i just look at you being perfect on those skates?' 'i don't want to force you...but wouldn't it be nice if you at least try it once?' '*violently puts the skates on* UGH FINE.' worst decision of his life, instantly regrets it. he grips on alastair's jacket all the time like he's going to die at any moment and when alastair finally convinces him that he's got it and he's not going to fall- thomas falls. completely on alastair.

bonus for thomastair because i am a clown:

thomas: *apologizing in every possible language, regretting all his life decisions, thinking he's somehow caused brain damage to alastair with that fall*

alastair: *lying on this back with thomas's body pressed on him, noticing little snowflakes stuck in thomas's hair, looking at thomas's red cheeks, lingering on thomas's lips moving, thomas's lips moving, thomas's lips, thomas's lips, thomas-*

matthew passing by and taking one (1) look at them: if you start making out now, i will not hang out with you two ever again.

[fillesdesiir]

𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑷𝒀 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯𝑫𝑨𝒀 ! 𝒕.𝒓.

pretend its still dec 31st, 2022. anyways hi im back also im gonna start posting oneshots that i had only posted on wattpad, on here. so enjoy this oneshot i wrote on toms bday. 

-

y/n surpises tom with a special birthday gift

- 

- 

       Despite being a raging narcissist, Tom loathed the day which was dedicated to him. His birthday. It was the worst day of the entire year and landed on the worst day to top it all off. He has never even come close to enjoying his birthday, how could he? The last day of the year was also the day everyone loses all sense of control and runs around screaming their new year's resolutions (which they’ll never accomplish.) 

   Tom despised his birthday and so, he makes sure nobody remembers it. Every year he goes about his day like usual and simply avoids anyone who may even have a slight clue it’s his birthday. But this year, he failed. Somehow you found out what this unbearable day was.

    “Were you never going to tell me what today was?” you asked with a big grin as you practically skipped over to Tom with glee. “The last day of the year?” Tom feigned ignorance as he read a ragged book. You sat down on the leather couch with Tom and scoffed. “Have you told anyone else?” you questioned while looking around at the deserted common room. Since it was the holidays, there was practically nobody. “I don’t quite understand what you are talking about,” he said and flipped a page of his book. “Riddle you can drop the act, I know it’s your birthday,” you smirked as you saw his eyes widen. “Do not tell anyone,” he hissed. You snickered in response. “I wasn’t planning on it,” a small smile made its way onto your lips. 

     “How did you even find out?” Tom turned his head to face you. 

    “Doesn’t matter how I found out, what matters is that you never told me it was your birthday.” “I’ve known you since we were eleven and we have grown close in many ways and yet, you didn’t bother to tell me it was your birthday?” you finished with a disappointed facial expression. “I didn’t think you’d care,” he answered quickly. You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Well I do care, and I came here to show you just how much I care,” your voice grew lower as you moved closer to Tom. You dragged his book out of his hands and dropped it to the ground before straddling him.

      “Tell me, Riddle, have you ever received a birthday gift before?” you whispered into Tom’s ear as you began to slowly rock your hips. You could feel Tom grow hard beneath you as you moved your hips back and forth. “I’m not a fan of gifts,” he answered your previous question with a shaky voice. You pouted before speaking, “Would you make an exception for me?” you asked him with glimmering eyes. Tom nervously inhaled before nodding. You smiled and trailed your hand down to his cock. You rubbed his clothed cock slowly before unzipping his pants. “You're going to love my gift,” you smiled and hopped off of him, and went down on your knees. His cock sprung out of his boxers and you licked your lips hungrily as you stuffed your face with his dick. Tom’s head fell back in pleasure as you gagged on his dick. Drool started to fall on the side of your mouth as Tom’s cock grazed the back of your throat. “If I had known this was the kind of gifts you hand out, I would have told you my birthday ages ago,” Tom let out a raspy whisper before thrusting into your mouth. Lust clouded Tom’s eyes as he fucked your mouth with delight. 

     Suddenly, Tom stopped his thrusting and pulled out of you. A string of precum and saliva followed. “Take that off,” Tom gestured to your shirt and you obeyed his commands. Slowly you unbutton your blouse and slip it off. “That too,” he demanded you to take your bra off. You did as said and Tom smiled before thrusting into your mouth once more, this time he thrusted with more ferocity. He could see your tits bounce with each thrust and it only added to the insatiable pleasure he was experiencing. You let out a muffled whimper as Tom began to thrust faster, chasing after his orgasm.

    Tom felt his body tense and his cock began to twitch inside your mouth but instead of finishing inside of you, he came all over your face. His seed was painted onto your skin and with a smile, you stood up and straddled him once more. Tom barely got a chance to catch his breath when you grabbed his cock and went down on him. Your lips parted in euphoria as Tom’s hands fell onto the sides of your hips, lifting you up and down on his cock. His cock hit a sweet spot inside of you and it made you scream out his name. Both of your juices could be heard mixing together as Tom fucked you relentlessly. Your tits bounced at Tom’s ruthless thrusts, you could feel yourself slowly lose control as Tom quickened his pace. Tom’s cock twitched inside of your cunt and your walls clenched around his cock, “Happy Birthday, Tom,” you moaned out as you came all over him.

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Five

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, World on Fire spoilers, two idiots not communicating? What’s new?

Word Count: 4.2K

Note: Thank you for the support on the last chapter, it’s been a tough time here and the comments and messages have really cheered me up! Little bit of TV show dialogue in here, but I think the scene with Douglas in the kitchen is an important moment for Tom.

September 1939

Somewhere in the night, a fox screeched. Summer was slowly fading to autumn, and every now and again, Tom Bennett took his hands off the cold metal to warm them with his breath. His back was growing stiff against the cold ground, but he was almost finished. Just a few more nuts and bolts. The fox screeched again. At the start of the night Tom had paused every time it sounded, now it was merely accompaniment to his, what had he told Bess? His “enterprising”.

A shaft of yellow light illuminated the gravel by Tom’s head, and he tucked his legs beneath the car. Someone somewhere had turned on a light. Fingers working faster, Tom at last pulled the pipe free and, shuffling on his back, made his way out from beneath the car. Rows upon rows of them stretched ahead of him. Perhaps just a few more. He looked to the source of the light and ducked. The owner of the scrapyard was drawing his bedroom curtains. Light distinguished, Tom found a smaller motor and made quick work removing the mirrors and bumpers.

“OI!” The white light of a torch shone in his face, and he could just make out the round figure behind it. Tom dodged the light and grabbed his bag of loot, feet kicking up gravel as he sprinted to get away. There’s no way that old bastard can keep up with me. He threw the sack of metal over the high fence and before launching himself at it, hauling his weight over the other side and sprinting down the street with his bag of swag. By the time the scrapyard owner had unbolted the gate, he was out of sight.

Ten minutes later, Tom came to a halt at the end of the ginnel connecting his street to the Off Licence opposite. Inside, he could see the shopkeeper wiping down the windows for the night. Resting the stolen bumpers and bag of scrap against the ginnel wall, Tom opened the offy door.

“Still open?”

“If you’re quick, Tom.”

“Packet of Marlboro please.” As the old man turned around, Tom slipped a bar of Cadburys from the counter into his jacket pocket.

“Sixpence.” Tom slid over the coin and left without a word. He went home the back way, best to avoid Douglas and Lois when carting around a bag of stolen goods. Depositing it under the old dust sheet, Tom silently entered the house. The lights were off. Shutting the door, he moved through the kitchen and towards the front of the house, where he exited onto the street. The Vaughns’ lights were off too. Tom glanced at his watch. 11pm. He had hoped to catch Bess before bed. Autumn might have been on its way, but as Tom glanced up, he saw that the Vaughn girls clearly thought it too warm to shut their bedroom window.

He scrabbled up the drainpipe and pushed the window sash further open before pulling himself inside. Not a one of the girls stirred. Cora, hair in a bonnet, had her back to him. The blanket she slept with had uncovered her feet, and as Tom tiptoed across the room, he tucked them in again. Dot was snoring gently, her mouth open a little and he couldn’t help but smile. She was as worry free in sleep as she was in life. Beside her in the bed they shared, Bess was curled into a ball, one hand beneath her head and the other lolling out of the bed. Unlike her sisters, Bess’ hair was loose and knotted across her pillow. She was so still, Tom watched a moment to see if she was breathing. The blanket rose and fell just a little. Edging forward, Tom reached into his jacket pocket and produced the bar of Cadburys. He placed it on Bess’ bedside table, next to her books. The girls would be cold by dawn so, as he left once more down the drainpipe, he closed the window.

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“Dot!”

Next morning, Bess stood by the stove over the eggs and bacon, occasionally popping a square of chocolate from her apron into her mouth. Albie sat at the kitchen table, darning a pair of socks as Fergal sat in his armchair by the wireless. Cora shouted up the stairs again.

“Dot! Come and help!” There was no reply. Cora huffed and returned to Bess’ side. “She’s going to get a rude awakening when she turns eighteen. If she wants to be treated like an adult, she’ll have to put her shift in. We can’t afford this laziness.” Bess hummed in agreement and flipped the eggs as Cora set the table. She was right, of course. With five adults in the house, money was tight even with each of them working. They couldn’t afford for Dot not to pull her weight around the house.

“Hush your clattering,” Fergal waved his hand at Cora, who had begun placing cutlery at the table.

“Dadda!” she exclaimed, indignant.

“Make your own sodding breakfast,” Bess muttered under her breath.

“Ssh!” Albie joined in as their father moved to turn up the wireless. The crackling voice of Neville Chamberlain filled the kitchen.

“I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.”

Bess turned from the stove. Fergal was wringing his hands and Albie had placed his worn socks on the table. Cora’s eyes were filling with shocked tears.

“I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany. You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that all my long struggle to win peace has failed…”

Cora placed a hand atop Albie’s shoulder. Not knowing what else to do, Bess silently plated up the eggs and bacon. How silly, eating seemed now. She stared at the plates of food, placed the pan in the sink and removed her apron. Not one of them moved.

“…And now that we have resolved to finish it, I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage.” Fergal switched the wireless off and silence reigned. Beyond the window, Bess watched a few people scurry up and down the street, surely visiting friends to check that what they heard was true.

“Police!” Dot came crashing down the stairs. “The police are back!” The three sisters ran to the window and, when the police entered the Bennett home, Dot and Bess rushed into the street. Fergal and Albie still did not move. Bess worried at the skin of her thumb. She had always known this day would come. Beside her, Dot was jumping on the balls of her feet, hands clasped under her chin, a look akin to excitement in her eyes.

“Dot!” Bess snapped. “It doesn’t do to enjoy other people’s misfortune, especially not our friends.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Hush.” Dot’s face fell in shame, and Bess knew she was trying not to cry. Cora and Bess had had much more responsibility at seventeen than Dot had. Yes, she was young but my God she could be naïve.

It wasn’t long before the Bennett’s front door opened again, and Tom exited in handcuffs flanked either side by a policeman. His steps were heavy, wanting to make it harder for them, and a pleased look was plastered across his face. Lois and Douglas were not far behind and lingered in the doorway.  

“Tom!” Dot shouted, now upset. His head snapped up to the girls across the street and his face fell. For the first time in his life, he saw Bess Vaughn look scared. Her eyebrows were knitted together, eyes wide with worry, usually plush lips a line of concern. Tom barely had time to take her in before a hand on his head forced him into the police car. Fergal pushed his way past his daughters and steered Douglas back into his home. Cora followed and scooped Lois into a hug. Bess watched the police car round the corner, staring at the back of Tom’s head, before retreating into the house. She picked up two plates of untouched bacon and eggs. Albie was still sat at the table, staring into nothingness. Dot ran upstairs, trying to hide her sobs.

When Bess entered the Bennett home, she found Douglas and her father at the kitchen table, Cora helping Lois fold some washing. She placed the food on the table.

“Oh,” Douglas looked up at Bess. “Thanks, love.” She went to stand with her sister. Lois took her hand in thanks.

“I was just telling Cora,” Lois began. “Theft and assault. That’s what they got him for.”

“Assault?”

“That bloke at the dance.”

“But that was weeks ago-”

Lois nodded. “I think they wanted to build up a few charges. That way he couldn’t wriggle out the way he always does. They’ve taken him into Manchester central.” At the kitchen table, Fergal and Douglas talked in worried whispers, and Bess knew that while each was worried for their sons, memories of thirty years passed were flooding their minds.

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The world turned upside down, and Bess knew it would take a long time to right itself. Cora and Dot were given a week off from the factory while it was converted for munitions production. War work begins at home, and soon Bess’ sisters would be making bullet casings. Fergal kept working down the dockyard, transporting goods from the factories to navy auxiliaries. As for Bess, fewer clients called and already the haberdasher’s supply of fabric was dwindling. Bored, determined and anxiously awaiting news of Tom, she took a job at the old cotton mill, making uniforms for the influx of the British Army’s new recruits. One such recruit, was Albert Vaughn.

Not two days after Tom’s arrest, Albie took the tram into the city centre. The girls had settled down for dinner when he returned home that night with a set of leaflets, his sign-up papers and a proud aspect to his gait. Fergal, who had barely eaten since the outbreak of war, looked up from his armchair by the fire. Each child watched him. From his dear girls’ faces, his eyes wandered to Albie who stood hesitantly at the table. His only son.

“Dadda?” Albie whispered.

“Just let me take you all in.” Cora smiled sadly at this, and Bess reached for her father’s hand. Dot held back a sob. “Who knows when we five will be together like this again?” They were silent a while, then Fergal stood. He kissed Bess’ hand and let it go, moving round the table to stand in front his son. He stretched out a hand. Albie looked at it and then back to the face of his father. They shook hands and when Albie let go, Fergal wrapped his arms around him. Dot started to sniffle, and Cora cuddled her close. Albie kissed the top of his father’s greying head. “I’ll be alright, dadda.”

A week later, and two since the arrest, Fergal came home with the news that Tom Bennett was to be released from prison.

“What did they charge him with, dadda?” Cora asked as she took his coat.

“I don’t know, passed Douglas and Lois on their way to pick him up.” Bess, knees tucked in the armchair, listened. When they said no more, she spoke softly.

“Have you got plans for this evening, Cora?”

Her sister jumped. “God, Bess, I thought you were sleeping! Well, Lois is singing later so Dot and I thought we’d go down. I would have asked but you said you were tired from the shift.”

Bess nodded. “Dadda, what about you?”

“Going for a drink down The Crown with Douglas and Albie. Don’t know if Tom’s coming, I imagine they’ve got him under house arrest.”

“The police?” chimed in Dot.

“Nah, Lois and Douglas.” Fergal chortled. Bess nodded once more and curled up in the seat, face turned towards the heat emanating from the hearth. She’d wait until they’d all left and sneak over to the Bennett’s. Two weeks remand was a long time for a petty crime, and she was desperate to know why they had let him saunter back to Longsight.

By the time Cora and Dot had left for the dancehall it was 9 o’clock, the men long gone to the pub. Dot had wanted Bess to lower the neckline of her dress and heighten the hem. Cora and Bess bargained with her for just the hem. Bess waited a little while before she hurried across the street and thank goodness she did. Now sooner was she putting on her brogues than was Dot racing through the door having forgotten her lipstick. Bess watched her chase after Cora, who was rounding the street corner, before closing the front door and making her way to the Bennett’s. Just as she stepped onto the pavement, the door opened.

“Hello,” Tom grinned at her.

“Hi,” Bess stared at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance at the door. She recovered herself. “You off out?”

He shrugged. “Was gonna see where the night took me.” He stepped back into the house and held the door open for her. What Bess didn’t know was the night had been taking him straight to her doorstep. She brushed past him and took a seat in the rocking chair by the fire, one trousered leg braced against the fire grate. “Very ladylike,” Tom pulled up a chair from the table. Bess smiled sadly, not looking at him. The quiet of the kitchen was amiable, and nothing out of the ordinary between she and Tom. How many nights had they spent in each other’s company without saying a word? Hundreds, surely. But Bess’ unasked question blocked the air around her and she felt as though speaking it would be like trying to shout through tar. The rustle of paper caused her to look up.

Tom held up a pamphlet. Pacifist Handbook. Bess raised her eyebrows. “What? You’ve worked out how to read?” Tom smacked her teasingly with the pamphlet.

“No,” his Mancunian accent always sounded so strong when he said it, and Bess laughed. “They said I could avoid prison if I signed up.”

Bess glanced at the pamphlet and her cheeks began to burn, though with fear, anger or disappointment she didn’t know. “So you said told them join up.” Tom nodded.

“I’ve got no intention of getting shot at,” he waved the pamphlet again. “I’m joining the conchie club.” Tom leant back in his seat and placed his feet on the table, a self-satisfied smile crossing his face.

“Oh, Tom-” he could hear the disappointment in her voice so he stopped her.

“Do you want me to go to war?”

“No, of course I don’t!” Bess leant across the table, arm reaching out but not quite touching him. “But surely the police won’t believe you? Someone getting arrested for assault suddenly becoming a pacifist?”

Tom shook his head and looked anywhere but at Bess. He propped a cigarette between his lips, and Bess knew the discussion was finished. Chin pushed forward and shoulders tensed, he became surlier by the minute. Desperate to talk to him, she told him about the factory, Albie signing up, her new job at the British Battledress, and how their fathers had been spending more time together, at the pub or chatting late into the evening. At this, Tom sombred.

“I wish mum was here,” he said.

“Me too.” Bess gripped his hand now, though neither spoke. The front door clicked. Lois. “I’ll go out the back.” She squeezed his hand. This time, Bess was the first to let go. Tom watched her dash through the yard and out the back gate before fumbling for the pamphlet and pretending to look as though he was reading.

“That your pacifist face?” Lois said, entering the kitchen and hanging up her coat. “Might have to try a bit harder.”

“You too if that’s your happy face.” Tom said. He turned back to the pamphlet. “I’ve got a shirt ‘needs ironing, if you need to take your mind off Harry and that.” Lois sighed and, taking her dress in hand, stormed up the stairs.

“Oh come on, Lois, I was joking-” Their bedroom door slammed. Tom sighed and threw the pamphlet on the table. Out of jail all of five minutes and already winding people up, nice one Tom.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Tom kept a low profile over the next few days. The Bennetts were the talk of the street and, while a little gossip added nicely to the upkeep of his reputation, Tom decided it was time to give his family a break. On the fifth day of his release, he walked into central; he’d done enough reading of his dad’s peace papers, it was time to come good on his word. Ambling lazily down the steps of the town hall, Tom joined the shorter of the lines and tapped the man in front of him on the shoulder.

“’Scuse me, mate. Is this the conchie queue?” The man looked around nervously, as did his fellows before him. Tom smiled and patted his shoulder patronisingly. “Alright, mucker, stop shaking. I’m on your side.”

“Coward’s side more like.” A tall man shouted from the other side of the hall. Tom looked at him slowly and sucked in his cheeks. He strolled towards the enlister.

“I’ll fight mate, I just won’t fight for this shit. So, if you do want some, bring your dinner and let’s get to it.” Each man turned to face Tom. Some sized him up. Some looked shocked. Some pacifist, they thought. Others were wary.

“Please, this is hard enough as it is.”

“Yeah, not for me it isn’t.”

He didn’t know why he did it. To spite his father, to get away from Manchester, to finally be somebody? To prove to this dickhead he wasn’t a coward? Whatever the reason, when he arrived home that evening with the news he was going to sea, Douglas stared at him in flabbergasted disbelief before launching into a tirade.

“The navy? The bloody navy?” He knew his dad wouldn’t like it, but he hadn’t expected this. “Can’t even steer a pedalo.” Douglas scoffed.

“Well at least it’s not the army, eh? And I’m not going to prison so,” Tom shrugged as though this answered everything.

“I must be stupid. I thought you’d actually become a pacifist. Really believed in it.”

Once more, Tom had invoked disappointment in someone he loved. “Yeah I don’t really believe in anything full on dad.” He hissed quickly. “And at least I’m fighting on the right side, at least gimme that!”

“Everybody thinks that! Every war they fight-!”

“Yeah, well this one’s different-”

“Every war’s different! Until it’s the same!” They were shouting at each other now. “Lois. Talk some sense into him, will ya?” There was a pause while Tom waited for Lois to chastise him.

“Can’t do that dad,” Tom turned in his chair to watch her. She looked at him briefly before continuing. “I think he’s right to join up. At least he’s getting out in the world,”

“Yeah, to get shot or blown up.” I’ve had enough of this. “Or do the same to other lads no older than him who have no idea why they’re fighting either!” Douglas bellowed after Tom as he stood from the chair without a word, grabbed his jacket and slammed the yard door. Thank God for Lois. She could see. No more wandering for Tom Bennett. He was going to see the world, fight for his country and make them proud. As he turned into the street, he bumped into a squat figure.

“Sorry, Fergal.” He grabbed the man by the shoulders to prevent him from falling over.

“S’right, lad.” He didn’t look into Tom’s face. Rather, stared at a point just below his chin with a glazed expression and stumbled away. Tom watched him go. Shit. He pulled his keys from his pocket and wandered up the street. The gentlest chimes of piano began to sound, a foxtrot he thought. Smiling to himself, Tom approached the Vaughn house and looked through the window. Bess was sat at the piano, though he could tell even in the dim light that her heart wasn’t in playing tonight. He put his key in the door. It was unlocked. She stopped playing when he entered.

“Bess?” He whispered. She span on her piano stool to face him. She wasn’t crying, though from the redness of her eyes and flush of her cheeks, he knew she had been.

“You saw Dadda then?”

“Walked straight into him.”

Bess stood to pour Tom a cup of tea from the pot on the table. She was dressed for bed, nightdress reaching her calves, a thin dressing gown thrown haphazardly over the top. Thick woollen socks were bunching at her ankles, making her look like a child. Just like when he’d snuck in to leave her the chocolate, her hair was unpinned and tumbling in frizzy strands down her back.

“He’s frightened,” she said, passing Tom the cup. “The nightmares have started up again. He’s barely eating! And the worst thing is, he’s terrified of losing Albie. Uncle Colm died in the first war, mam only a few years ago. I think he’ll break if he loses someone else.” A breath shuddered from her chest and she gathered herself and tried to smile. “Well. At least your dad won’t have to worry about losing you, hey?” Bess sipped her own tea and looked brightly at Tom. His cup remained held in his hand as he looked at her. “Tom?”

“I joined up today,” he whispered. The cup almost fell from Bess’ hands.

“I don’t understa-”

“Joined the navy. Come on Bess, you know me. I can’t sit around and watch everyone else have all the fun and glory,” he tried to joke but it fell flat in the quiet of the kitchen.

“When do you go?”

“Off to Liverpool in a few days to start basic training.” Bess nodded at him and her bottom lip quivered. Tom wanted to go to her. To say he’d stay, but before he had the chance to move, Bess placed her cup on the table and came to stand in front of him. Her arms found their way around his shoulders and held him tight. One hand rubbed his hair and the action made Tom’s hands fly to her waist and pull her closer. She smelt of fresh laundry and vanilla. Face buried in her hair, Tom suddenly became aware of how little Bess was wearing. His hands were lingering just above the curve of her bottom, and he could feel her breasts through the thin fabric. He’d be dead before he put on his uniform if Fergal staggered through the door. He pulled away from her a little but she held onto his shoulders, studying his face. In the dark light, she could see the flush of his cheeks and the worry in his blue eyes.

“This could be the making of you, Tom Bennett.”

He swallowed but couldn’t speak. For the first time, he was speechless.

“Can you do something for me, Tom?” He’d do anything for Bess. “Will you get a picture taken?”

He coughed awkwardly. “You what?” It was Bess’ turn to blush but her serious gaze had returned.

“Will you get a picture taken? Albie’s had one done for us, and I-I-” she huffed in annoyance. “I’d like one of you.”

“Ok.”

They stared at each other in the darkness, and when Bess took his hand and kissed it, she meant to.  

Note: For those outside the UK, a ginnel is a small alleyway, normally behind a row of terraced houses. It’s a word used a lot in the north of England, growing up my mum used it a lot.  Mucker, too, is a northern word that means ‘mate’. Off Licences (offy) are liquor stores.

My paternal grandmother worked in a makeup factory before the war. The women that worked there were known locally as the powder puff girls 😊 When war broke out, it became a munitions factory, which is the inspiration behind that part of the story! Here she is!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @sophielangdonx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa

[cowboythighs]

stephanie harrington is a good girl. she goes to church on sundays, cheers at games on friday nights, and keeps her legs shut. like she’s always been told good girls do!

but lucky for her, eddie sees steph for what she is, and is more than willing to lend a hand to get her to loosen up and 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 good.

(general cw: no discussions of consent so dub con warning even though both are willing and enthusiastic participants! any talk about good/right/pure/virginity is from characters perspective based on their religious upbringing!)

stephanie harrington was, quite possibly, too naive. sheltered her whole life by godfearing parents, her biggest desire in life was to be Good. and part of being good meant saving herself for marriage. steph /knew/ her future spouse deserved to be the first to touch her, so she took care to make sure her body wasn’t spoiled. not even by her own touch.

but her naivety created a blind spot—the perfect gap for a proud, self-proclaimed pervert like eddie munson to slip in. he’d watched steph for ages, wondering what it would be like to be the one to show her what she’d been missing. so he knew that after the pep rally that afternoon that she’d be the last to leave the locker room.

he hid under the bleachers while the rest of the school filtered out of the gymnasium. stood there just out of their sight watching as the rest of the cheerleading team left the locker room. counted until he was sure there was just one left.

eddie crept into the steam filled locker room and found steph’s bag easily. he rifled through, removing the single pair of panties and the change of clothes she had inside. satisfied, he hid her clothes in a different locker, but kept the panties for himself. he tucked them into his pocket and slipped back out, back under the bleachers. and waited.

fifteen minutes later when steph finally appeared with wet hair and back in her cheer uniform, eddie was already hard from the anticipation. from the thrill of having the most popular girl in schools panties in his hands. from knowing what could happen next.

he knew a lot from watching steph. he knew she was behind in chemistry, and would stay after school, sitting in the same spot every time while she attempted to finish the homework.

he also knew about her vow of chastity. the promise between her, her parents, and her preacher that she wouldn’t let herself be touched. he’d overheard her ex-boyfriend jason whining about it more than once.

but eddie watched. eddie knew. he could see the way she squeezed her thighs together when tom cruise slid across the big screen at The Hawk in his underwear. could see the way she bit her lip and squirmed when she listened to the other girls talk about their hookups. eddie knew she wanted more.

she just needed someone to break the seal. take off the pressure. show her that she wouldn’t be struck by lightning if she let herself feel good. and eddie was a giver. was willing to help steph out of this silly, unnecessary predicament. show her that her future husbands pleasure wasn’t worth more than her own right now.

so, being a watcher—a giver—eddie knew just where to stand underneath the bleachers so that when all the dominos fell into place, and steph sat down on the bleachers that afternoon, he was in the perfect position to get a glimpse of her pussy.

she sat in her same spot—six rows back—sat the way she normally did—spun around backwards so that she sat on the floorboard, legs dangling underneath the bleachers so that she could use the bench in front of her as a desk.

she hummed quietly as she pulled out her notebooks and textbooks, seemingly oblivious to eddie’s presence. he took advantage of the view she offered him—legs spread enough to show eddie what no one else—not any of the jocks drooling after her—had ever seen.

it was even prettier than he’d imagined. puffy mound covered in thick, brown curls that had never been tamed, with a glimpse of pretty pink where the hair thinned and her swollen lips met. it was too pretty to be ignored. eddie leaned up and softly, quietly, blew a tickling stream of air right at it.

above him steph shivered. looked around, ensuring no one else was near, and cautiously spread her legs wider. eddie’s answering smile nearly hurt his cheeks. he knew his girl so well. he gave her another puff of air as a reward. watched fondly as she scooted closer to the edge of her seat.

eddie reached up between the wide spread of her legs and slowly—gently—let his finger trail over where her puffy pussy lips met. her hand flew up to her mouth as she fought to keep quiet.

eddie couldn’t believe how much pleasure he was able to give her from such a simple touch. it wasn’t his first time playing with steph in this spot under the bleachers. it was something he’d been warming up to over the past few weeks. building up from making soft noises to alert her of a presence, to blowing air against her thighs, to finally—last week—rubbing her through her panties until she soaked them.

but eddie knew she was ready for more. he tapped his other hand softly against her shiny white shoes. obediently she spread her legs even further.

steph was a good girl.

eddie let his finger slide into the wet warmth between her lips—not pushing inside her—not yet. he stroked up and down slowly—letting her get used to the brief contact against her clit. let her get worked up enough to want more.

she couldn’t say it—couldn’t ask for it—but he knew what she wanted when she pushed her hips forward more and whined. he used his free hand to gently pat her leg—saying without words—that he had her. understood her. would take care of her.

eddie could feel it—could sense that steph was getting close. he was torn between wanting to draw it out—really make steph desperate—let her realize how much she needed him—and wanting to make her see stars—feel her come apart in his mouth.

but then someone called steph’s name from the hall outside the gym, and his decision was made for him. despite how badly he wanted to keep going (steph hadn’t even closed her legs! just froze in place like she couldn’t bear to stop, even knowing they could be caught at any second) eddie pulled back with one quick soft kiss to the soft flesh of her thigh and slid back into the shadows under the bleachers.

he watched as steph slid her legs back together just before her friend walked into the gym.

“steph, my car won’t start and tommy says he won’t give me a ride unless i blow him. will you give me a ride home?”

eddie saw carol perkins matching cheer shoes walk up the steps to steph.

“are you alright?” carol asked.

“fine!” steph squeaked out. cleared her throat. “i’m fine,” she repeated. “just trying to get some studying done. and don’t you already… you know… tommy?”

carol laughed. “i love that you’re too pure to even say “blow”. seriously, i love you steph. you’re a riot. and yeah, i might’ve given tommy a few blow jobs, but i don’t want him to think he can just make demands! come on steph, help save me from my sinful ways.”

When steph hesitated, carol added, “please, steph; you can study at my house.”

steph sighed, and eddie listened as she gathered up her things. “Fine,” steph relented. “Just this once, okay? I really do need to study and this is the only place I can really think.”

Eddie watched the girls’ squeaky clean sneakers as the walked down the last few steps of the bleachers. Smiled as he saw steph hesitate by the door, obviously trying to decide if she wanted to look underneath the bleachers. he didn’t make a move to hide.

but carol called her name again, and steph left unsatisfied in more ways than one. but it was okay. eddie knew she’d come back for more. back to him. he could wait.

✨

[jenniquinn]

It's You X Tom Grant X Female Reader

It's just a sad, fluffy fic for you. I tried my best. It's short but sweet.

Dating Tom was a recent thing, but you already fell fast for him. He was literally everything you could ever want in a man and more. You knew a few months prior to dating him, he had gotten out of a three year relationship. He reassured you it was over, but there was something in your head that didn't know for sure, and that bothered you.

You were currently lying cuddled up naked with Tom in his bed when a knock is heard at the door. You both look at each other confused and you both get out and dress. He puts shorts on and you slip one of his shirts and shorts on to cover you. He walks to the door and opens it. "Ruth" You hear and your head snaps up to see him glance at you. You cross your arms across your chest, while your hearts beats out your chest.

"Can we talk?" You hear her say, and he nods. She steps in and sees you and looks back at him "alone." He looks at you, and suddenly, you feel like you can't breathe. "Seriously?" You ask in a whisper, and he nods, causing your heart to break. "Fine." You find your overnight back and throw your stuff in quickly, and you walk to the door. He tries to put a hand on your shoulder, and you shrug it off, looking at him one last time before walking out.

What you don't know is that the sight of you walking out seriously breaks his heart. He knew he should have let you stay, but he had to make Ruth see that it was over and he was with you. He didn't realize the damage he did to you. So after he was done he went looking for you but instead found Kai with a letter. He hands it to him. He reads it.

Tom,

I'm sorry but I have to go. I can't wait around for you to decide who it is that you really want. Before we were interrupted, I was contemplating how to tell you I love you. But I know now what a mistake it was. It felt like every day I was waiting for the shoe to drop. I knew in my heart that the day she would show back up that this would be the end. But it's ok Tom, be with her. You deserve to be with the one you love, the one who makes your heart soar. But I can't be around and watch you be with her, so I am going back home to the States. So be with her, it's OK.

Always, Y/N.

He drops to the ground, his heart shattering. He knew the minute it happened, what a mistake it was, but he didn't think about how it would hurt you. So he runs, getting in Kai's car, and Kai drives, trying to catch you at the airport. He runs in and sees you heading to security, so he yells your name, and you turn to look at him.

Your face makes his chest hurt worse. "What are you doing here, Tom?" You ask, and he grabs your hand, and you try to pull away. "Look, I am so sorry. I never should have let you walk out that door. " He tells you as tears fall down both of your faces. He reaches up and wipes your tears away, keeping your face between his hands. "Why did you?" You ask, and he shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. But I felt that if I told her to her face just how much I love you and that all I ever want is you, that it might go over better alone".

You just stare at him. "You love me," you ask as your heart beats faster. He smiles, pulling you closer. "It's you. It will always be you, " he says, and you smile. "I love you too," you say, grabbing his face, and you kiss him. You break away after a few minutes. "Next time, do not kick me out. I do not think my heart can take it again," you tell him, and he holds out his pinky and you smile wrapping yours with his. "I pinky promise," he says.

"So, are you ready to head home?" he asks, and you smile, grabbing his hand, and you both walk out and find Kai. "So does this mean you batched things up?" he asks, and Tom pulls you close "yes it does, " he kisses you. After everything, you finally knew that it was you who was the love of his life and you couldn't be happier knowing that.

[wc-wild-rewrite]

what’s ravenpaw like in this rewrite 👀

Unfortunately, Ravenpaw still has to leave since ol' tiger is still a murderer, but things do differ!

This got really long and sort of dramatic, so more under the cut

Firstly, he has a sister, Cherrypaw. She dies in the same fight that Tigerclaw came back from with Redtail's body. He also carries her back. Importantly, he did Not kill her, but Ravenpaw was in such shock afterwards that he thought he did. She is brought up repeatedly by Ravenpaw and the other apprentices, she was the bold optimism to Ravenpaw's anxious worry.

Ravenpaw leaves similarly to the books, but unlike the books, they actually hold vigil for him. They see him from time to time, particularly for more details on redtail's death, but in Book 8 a gang of rogues take over the barn to try re-create the more murdery side of bloodclan, so Raven, Barley, Fire, and Scourge (Ice at that point) team up to chase them off.

He also has vitligo. So there's not much white on his fur when he first shows up, but by the time the clans leave the territories, there's far more of it.

They say their goodbyes to him when their leaving for the mountains, and Firestar promises he'll come and visit if he's in the area, and asks him to direct Greystripe to the mountains if he appears, as Grey still gets captured in this.

However, when Greystripe arrives, Ravenpaw is dying. And Greystripe knows it, because he grew up with Raven, and Cherry, and Chestnutkit, the third littermate who died in the greencough epidemic just before the first book. Anyway, Grey and Millie stay at the barn for a while, postponing their return to the clans to keep an old friend company as he slowly worsens from an unknown illness that even the twolegs can't fix. Liver cancer, to be specific, but the cats don't know that.

Raven and Barley are mates, and he always wanted kits, despite his anxious demenor he was fantastic with them, and he wanted to help more cats like him, that had to run away from a group or cat. But, he knows he won't get to, as he's laid in his death bed and fed by his old friend and his mate, both of whom know he won't recover. He feels himself slipping, so he asks Greystripe to do one thing: give him a warrior name.

Now, greystripe is not deputy at any point in this rewrite, and even if he was, he wouldn't have clearance for such a ceremony normally. But this is a dying apprentice ceremony, and so, Greystripe asks what he wants to be called. He picks Ravenfern, after the ferns his sister used to wear in her fur and play in so often when they were kits. Greystripe agrees, and performs the ceremony as best he knows how. Ravenfern passes less than a half hour later.

Barley is, of course, very upset by this, but he's gone through a lot, and he knows Ravenfern would want him to carry on. And so, he sends Greystripe and Millie on their way to the lake territories, and opens up the barn as a refuge for any cat who needs it. And its a massive success, having dozens of cats pass through the barn every cycle (year) and even having some cats be born there.

In particular, one queen passes through, with a litter of three following weakly behind her. He feeds them, as he does with every cat, the healthy cats currently passing through help out with the kits as well. But the queen admits she cannot raise them, she didn't mean to have them and her twolegs would not allow them to stay with her, so she gives them to Barley. They don't look much like him, nor Raven, one cream and two blues, but he raises them as his own, telling them tales of the wild cats who lived there, and the fantastic tom he fell in love with.

Eventually, a long, long time later, the clans pass back through, having to find yet another territory. Firestar is dead, and most living cats may not even remember Ravenpaw and Barley, and yet Brackenstar takes the time to drop by on the way, and checks on Barley and his three kits. Lola, Sadie, and Bread. The clans were already aware of Ravenfern's passing and new name, as Greystripe announced it at the gathering he returned to, but Sandstorm is still saddened to not see her friend. They weren't close, but they were nurserymates.

Lola and Bread end up continuing Barley and Raven's legacy once Barley passes, but Sadie leaves to join Bloodclan, who replace Skyclan in this rewrite and are being brought back to the new-new territories by Alderheart.

Oh, and barley plants a bunch of ferns around the edges of the barn in memory of him. He may have died young, but his legacy never stops.

(When firestar learns of Ravenfern's passinng, he holds an all-night vigil with Sand, Dust, and Grey. The first vigil wasn't real, but this one is. He knows the vigil is moons too late, but he hopes his friend found the way to Starclan easy enough)

Sorry for the slightly story-esque drama ramble, but yeah, thats what happens with him.

[dragon-kazansky]

Something Worth Protecting

Iceman x Dragon

Bodyguard AU

Dragon's popularity has grown tremendously, and as she takes off on tour, a security team has been hired to see it through. Leading that team is Tom Kazansky. He's the best in the business. He is here to do a job, but for the first time in his career, feelings are involved. He can't get too involved or he'll lose his job. Yet, ignoring what he desires is harder than it looks.

[Masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Chapter Three - Hint of the past

♡♡♡

Once Rachael had changed and grabbed her things, Jade went with her to the back door, Kazansky following behind. The two women hugged and Jade promised she would see her tomorrow.

For now, they had to get on the road to the hotel. Rachael had another show tomorrow night.

Tom opened the door for the singer. Dragon didn't even look at him as she got in. He closed the door and got into the driver's seat.

Rachael kept her gaze on outside the window. Tom would glance back at her through the mirror every so often.

They reached the hotel quite late. Rachael was very obviously tired. Tom walked with her to the reception desk, while Ron saw to her luggage.

They signed in and Kazansky escorted her to her room. The room itself wasn't huge, but it was enough. There was no doubt that later in her career the rooms would expand as she went. Though she didn't care. Rachael wasn't doing this for the money, she just wanted people to hear her sing.

"I'll be right outside."

Rachael glanced over her shoulder. Tom was standing with his hands clasped together, looking at her blankly.

"Right."

A moment of pause settled between them. She's not sure why he didn't leave immediately. He just stood there and looked at her. After a moment of intense silence, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

Rachael sighed and fell back onto the bed.

She was tired.

The next morning she headed downstairs for breakfast, when she got there, Kazansky trailing behind her, she is met by the sight of her band.

Rachael had wondered if Kazansky had been on duty all night. She was concerned about his lack of sleep status, but when she had asked him, he had apparently switched up with one member of his team, and then returned before she woke.

He seemed adamant he stayed by her as much as he could.

Rachael smiled at her friend Pete, or Maverick as he went by on stage, her lead guitarist.

"Finally joining us."

"Shut up, Mav."

She sits down and places her order with the waitress that comes over. Nick, or Goose, laughs at the pair.

Charles and Leonard, Chipper and Wolfman respectively, chuckled themselves as they dug into their own breakfasts.

These guys were her band. She had heard them play in a club she used to sing at, and after listening to them so many times, she managed to talk to them about joining her. Apparently they were all fans of her signing too, so teaming up to create music sounded like heaven to them.

Her voice and their music, it was the perfect match.

Rachael drinks Mav's coffee, unable to wait for her own, and sighs as she remembers what a success last night was. She smiles into the cup, which Mav glares at because he was drinking that coffee.

"What's on your mind, princess?" Goose asks, smiling at her. Nick called her that to tease her usually, but today she let it slip.

"Last night was... everything!"

The guys all smile at her.

"You were amazing."

"You're going places."

"And I'm taking you with me," she tells Chipper. "All of you. We are in this together."

Just as her breakfast is brought to her, someone up at the counter catches her eye. Rachael looks up to see someone she hadn't seen in a long time. She didn't really know him, but of him.

Jake Seresin. The assistant to her previous manager, a man who didn't want Dragon to spread her wings and tour the world.

Hermes wanted Dragon for himself.

She follows him with his eyes as he waits for something and then leaves when he gets it. Jake doesn't even see her as he leaves, heading in the opposite direction out of sight.

Suddenly, a chill runs down her spine. Was he here? That bastard that used her? Tried to keep her from reaching her dream?

Hermes was a bastard who tried to ruin her, but Jade was there to protect her, to take her away from his greedy hands. It suddenly dawned on Rachael why the bodyguards were needed.

Did Jade know something she didn't?

Pete sees Rachael's mood drop and leans over to talk to her.

"You good?"

She glances at him and shakes her head softly.

"What is it?"

"I just saw Jake, Hermes' assistant. He was over there." She nods across the room. Mav frowns. "If he's here..."

Pete is quick to reach out and place his hand over hers. "Don't. You're here with us. Your bodyguard is right there behind you. If he is here, nothing is going to happen."

Rachael just nods.

Tom watches the two from where he stands. He can't hear them, but he sees the way your guitarist places his hand over yours and leans in close. He frowns a little.

What's this about?

The two remained huddled together throughout breakfast. After, Kazansky escorts Rachael back to her room. She sits on the bed and sighs. Tom talks to someone through his earpiece and watches her closely.

Something is weighing on her mind.

Moments later, Rick is entering the room. Rachael lifts her gaze to see what's happening. She had almost forgotten she wasn't alone before.

Tom nods at Rick and turns to leave, but Rachael calls out.

"Where are you going?"

Tom turns again to look at her.

"To speak to your manager."

"About what?"

"I have some questions, that's all. Rick will look after you."

Rachael glances at Rick. He offers her a small smile and nods his head in her direction. He seems nice. Her eyes drift back to Tom. For some reason it was unsettling that he was leaving.

She had grown used to him being her shadow.

Tom leaves.

Rachael looks back at Rick.

"They call me Hollywood," he says.

"Hollywood? You guys have code names?"

"Yeah."

"Why Hollywood? Were you in a movie?"

He laughs and shakes his head.

"What do they call Kazansky?" She asks.

"Iceman."

She frowns. "Iceman?"

"Yeah. You'll see why once you spend enough time with him."

She doesn't quite understand, but she doesn't ask any more questions. She curls up on her bed and faces away from him.

Worry had settled in her heart.

♡♡♡

@bayisdying - @mrsjaderogers - @breadsquash @cycbaby - @callmemana - @askmarinaandothers - @starlit-epiphany - @callsignscupcake - @ladylanera - @gracespicybradshaw I CAN'T BELIEVE I LEFT YOU OUT

[redfoxwritesstuff]

@tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri

I did a thing in the comments on AO3 and I didn't want you two to miss out on this- A reader wanted the disrobing scene from Tom's point of view.

~~~~~<3<3 Tom allowed himself to float down under the water, bouncing on the pool bottom in a dramatic death. Sure, dead bodies floated and he was sinking but the giggles his performance was earning was worth the inaccuracies. As his lungs demanded air, he pushed himself off the floor to surface, throwing water from his hair and out of his face.

As he wiped the water from his face, his eyes found Mia and his breath caught. She was stunning. Bright sunshine brought out the gold of her hair, wild waves contained in a claw clip and shiny robe covering her from her forearms to her knees. The belt cinched the waist, letting the fabric just kiss her curves.

“Are you going to get in?” He asked as soon as he felt like he could breathe again.

“Mom’s shy.” Sally giggled. “I don’t know why, she’s so pretty.”

“She is pretty,” Tom agreed, nodding wisely to the small girl floating on the inflated unicorn next to him.

Though he made a show of his agreement, he meant no exaggeration. Slowly, spellbound by the smile on her face, be made his way toward the steps of the pool. The water helped take his weight off his knees, surely helping keep him standing as they felt weak.

Stepping out of the water, one step at a time he watched her. She was as caught in the moment as he, it seemed. The light reflecting off the water made the brown of her eyes look more like melted honey than the warm earth he usually thought of them as. He watched as her eyes fluttered over him.

Pride swelled in his chest as she unashamedly look in his body. He knew he was an attractive man but as she pushed him again time and time again, doubt found a way to take root. He’d find himself considering that there may have been something wrong with him in her eyes. Her cheeks flushed as her eyes traveled lower. She looked so pretty with her cheeks flushed. Did she even know she was blushing? Did she know how she took his breath away in this moment? He could hardly breathe.

His heart was pounding in his chest. Was hers?

He took shallow breaths, though it felt like he couldn’t get enough air. Reaching out, Tom placed his hands on either side of her neck. Her skin was so soft, under his fingertips. Stay strands of hair curled around his fingers as he slide them around the back of her neck. The pads of his thumbs rubbed against her jaw, soaking up the warmth of her skin as he looked down at her. His pinkies slipped under the silk fabric of her robe as her lips parted in a silent gasp.

He wondered, what would she do if he kissed her? Would she push him away if he did it right there, in front of Sally and anyone who happened to pass by? Would she deny him after looking at him so sweetly?

He wanted to find out. He wanted to take the risk but he wasn’t sure he would survive being rejected again so soon.

Instead, he ran his hands down Mia’s neck and over her shoulders, taking in the feel of her sun warmed skin under the robe. He was captivated by the feel of her under his hands. His mouth watered and he swallowed thickly as she absently untied the belt around her waist. The silk fell away from her in a whoosh as Tom’s hands reached the curve of her shoulders. She caught the robe in her hands as it fell and just stood there. The cold of his wet trunks did little to prevent him for stirring to life, twitching under the wet fabric as he took in the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, silver lines shimmering in the summer sun telling a story of just how amazing she was.

“There,” He said after swallowing twice, voice was thick with desire. “Now you can get in the pool.”

She stood in front of him, on display to his eyes and he couldn’t get enough of the sight. This wet shorts pulled against him as he grew harder with every heartbeat and shallow breath.

The realization that he was growing hard in public and at a child’s birthday party hit him like a bucket of ice water. That needed to stop. He needed to stop it right now. He grabbed the robe from her hands and balled it up. Absently, he tossed it into the nearest poolside chair and scooped her up. To ensure he didn’t let a moan slip, he simply held his breath as she clung to him.

Quickly he descended the steps, thankful for the shock of the cold water on his overheated member. As his toes hit the edge of the shallows, he let his balance tip forward and welcomed the embrace of the water, hopeful that it would return sanity to him.

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 25

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Flashback smut AN: Just a splash of my daddy issues, so sorry about that. I swear, I'm trying to keep it under control! Enjoy the last fluffy chapter before the angst really starts to amp up. Sorry not sorry. Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Tears gathered in Mia’s eyes as she looked at the little bit of magic Tom had worked. Mia had always felt guilty that she couldn’t give the big parties Sally would see on the TV and often she was too tired or too broke to even do a lot. Again and again, she told Tom to go small. Simple. Easy. 

She took comfort in the fact that the first few birthdays, kids don’t remember beyond the stories they’re told and the pictures they see. She wasn’t sure kids remembered their 5th birthday parties either but Tom had put in the effort to make it special, even while toeing the line of her request. 

Purple and pink balloons reflected the sparkling water. There were bottles of sparking juice and a handful of plastic champagne glasses, making the small party child fancy. Tom had pizzas, one peperoni and one cheese on each side of the bottom of a foam cooler upside down over what she assumed was the birthday cake. 

Tom was sitting on the edge of the pool pumping up the last of the floaties and for a moment, time froze and Mia’s heart skipped a beat. The strong sun shone on his bare back and arms, casting shadows in the dips of his defined muscles. His hair was alight with it, golden reds highlighting every wild curl in his short hair, stealing her breath away more than the definition in his back as he moved about comfortably. 

This was the man she married in a act of drunken stupidity. No, perhaps not stupidity after all, if she closed her eyes and indulged her heart. What if, just maybe, marrying this man three weeks ago was one of her life’s greatest decisions?

This was a man she could fall in love with. God, did he make it hard not to just fling herself headfirst in, reckless and trusting. It was hard to remind herself the importance of taking things slow when she saw him like that, sitting at the edge of the pool and blowing up kid’s pool toys as if it was the most important task of his life. As if it was a part of his life. As if he belonged. 

He was the father Sally deserved. God, if she could just give Sally this man as a father. If she could somehow change the fabric of reality and make this the man that fathered Sally,Mia would. That wasn’t possible but she could give him to her now, if she just was willing to take a risk, willing to trust.

Tom was a person though. There was no way she could force him to stay, no way she would want to if he wanted to leave. But fuck, if this could be their lives, she wanted him to want to stay. What if she tried and he left? What if Sally got to have this, really have it, and then lost it? What if it was her fault? What if she wasn’t a good enough woman to keep a man like Tom?

“Tommy!” Sally broke the moment, saving Mia from a lifetime spent in a single heartbeat and whirlwind of ‘what if’s. “It’s so pretty!”

Mia looked away from the way Tom smiled at Sally, directing her attention to her phone as it pinged in her hand, thankful for the distraction. Again, she texted Ray to see if he was coming on her way down.

“Fucking calm down” the message read, sent from her daughter’s father. He was a man she had once loved, who she had thought loved her at one point. “I’m on my fucking way.”

He was in a bad mood but that wasn’t unusual for him. He was always in a bad mood during the last few years or so. Mia was just thankful he had answered, if she was honest. It was rare that she could give Sally the gift of time with her father. This time, at least for her birthday, it looked like it was going to happen. 

“Sally will be so excited” Mia sent back. 

He didn’t respond. 

“Is Daddy coming?” Sally ran over as Tom reminded her that walking feet were important to use around the pool. Tom looked over to Mia with worry clearly etched on his face. 

“He said he’s on his way.” Mia said and in her gut, it felt like the wrong thing to say.

“Anything I should be aware of?” Tom asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and hugging her to him, a calculated risk he decided was worth it after the time spent at the ranch. 

“What do you mean?” His hand was cold from the pool water, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. It felt good seeping into her skin through the robe, cooling the skin heated by the desert sun. 

“Do I need to be worried about him trying to knock my head off or trying to drown me in the pool?”

Mia gave it a big of thought, “Don’t know, to be honest. We’ve never been in a situation even close to this before.”

“Lovely.” Tom’s voice came flat, though is fingers twitched against her waist. 

“You’ll be fine,” Mia patted Tom’s chest, trying to ignore the feeling of the sun warmed skin and firm muscle under hand while she laughed. “I’m sure you can out run him.”

“In this heat?” Tom teased as he gave her one last squeeze before returning to the pool.

It felt good to laugh together. To celebrate together. To be together.

Mia hesitated near the pool, watching as Sally and Tom splashed eachother. They were quickly becoming the picture of a family and it was magical to watch it happen. Sally deserved this. 

For Sally, Mia decided, she needed to invest in this marriage as much as Tom was. 

“Are you going to get in?” Tom asked after resurfacing from a dramatic splash induced water death. 

“Yeah, I just-”

“Mom’s shy.” Sally giggled. “I don’t know why, she’s so pretty.”

“She is pretty,” Tom agreed, nodding wisely to the small girl floating on the inflated unicorn next to him before making his way toward the steps of the pool. 

Rising out of the water one step at a time, water ran off of his chest and abdomen. Streams of water gathered to run down the valleys between muscles as her eyes followed. His hair was dark with water, plastered to his head. As he rose out of the water, his trunks clung to his hips and-

Yeah, she needed to pay attention to where she was and that the water was nice and cold. Stop looking at the man like he was a goddamn piece of meat. She was not some nineteen year old girl who’s not been around the block a few times. 

Keep your eyes on socially acceptable places. This was real life, not some romance movie. Keep it together. 

Tom was close to her now. She could see the scattered hairs on his chest. Was he feeling the same things she was in that moment? Was he thinking the same sort of thoughts looking down at her? Her heart was beating out of her chest. Was his?

Reaching out, Tom placed his hands on either side of her neck. Long fingers curled around the back of her neck and the pads of his thumbs rubbed against her jaw, spreading blessed coolness into overheated skin. His pinkies slipped under the silk fabric of her robe. 

Was he going to kiss her? Would he do it right there, in front of Sally and anyone who happened to pass by?

Slowly, Tom’s hands ran down her neck and over her shoulders. She was captivated by his eyes. As the neck of her robe expanded, pulling open she absently untied the belt. the silk fell away from her in a whoosh as Tom’s hands reached the curve of her shoulders. She caught the robe in her hands as it fell and just stood there, lost in the spell of his eyes. 

“There,” His voice was thick, like something had caught in his throat. “Now you can get in the pool.”

When Mia was slow to get moving, Tom seemed to return to life. He grabbed the robe from her hands as she slowly gathered it up. Balling it up, he tossed it onto a poolside chair. 

Without much warning or even giving himself a chance to over think things, he scooped her up in his arms. A squeak of shock captured Sally’s attention and then the little girl was cheering them on. 

Mia reflexively threw her arms around Tom as he descended the steps slowly. Realizing how much of her skin was directly touching his skin, she let go and tried to put distance between them. 

This did nothing but shift her weight, almost toppling the both of them into the water. Feeling herself becoming unsteady, she grabbed onto him again. He carried her down the steps as if she weighed nothing in his arms. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her, she saw his build. 

Tom enjoyed the feeling of having her in his arms. Her skin was hot against his water cooled skin. The contrast felt dizzying.

“You’re too hot.” Tom said, not realizing until after the words left his lips the double meaning. 

Instantly his face began to feel hot and he had very few options. Somehow, he thought falling forward with her in his arms into the pool where the shallows dropped off into the deeper water was the best response to the situation. 

Mia surfaced sputtering water. Her brown hair was soaked, hanging awkwardly in the hair clip that had been keeping it off her shoulders. Tom surfaced a moment later gasping for breath. He didn’t have a chance to wait for a potential wrath or catch his breath before Mia was splashing him. 

“What if I couldn’t swim!” She was laughing even as she voiced her outrage.

“I would have saved you.” His words came in short bursts between mouthfuls of water she flung at him. 

Sally was an equal opportunity attacker, armed with a squirt gun and a unicorn steed to escape on. She had no allies, she had no partners, and she took no prisoners in her aquatic attacks. 

Such a brutal attack left no other option but for the adults to join forces and take down the small tyrannical dictator of the pool, filling the air with splashes, water and the musical sound of a family at play.

They played for a rather long time before dragging themselves out of the water for pizza and drinks. Some other kids had joined them at complex pool, giving Sally other victims for round two of the master of the sea. 

Mia stood, robe hanging from her elbows mostly forgotten as she checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Sally was distracted, laughing and sharing pizza with anyone who joined their mini party.

“Any word?” Tom asked, resting his hand on her back as he came up beside her. 

“No.” Resisting the urge to throw her phone, Mia simply locked it and placed it face down again. “He said he was on his way an hour and a half ago.”

 ~~~~~<3

Sally was tired when they finally made their way inside, carried by her mother. Tom made easy work of the few trips needed to bring what remained of the cake and presents inside. Mia was thankful for the additional hands, Sally alone was getting far too big to be carried home. 

For today though, she would carry her little girl as far as she wanted. Five years old now, Mia could hardly believe it. This little girl had changed her life and been with her through some of her most challenging times. She was Mia’s world. 

For Sally, Mia would burn the world down if needed. For Sally, Mia would give the world on a plater if she only asked. 

It killed her that there were things she couldn’t give her daughter though, things she deserved more than anything.

Ray never did show up. Mia wanted to believe something happened to him. Perhaps a car accident on the way? Maybe he was in the hospital, phone lost or destroyed? That would be better than knowing that he just decided to not show up to his daughter’s birthday party. Again. 

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

They moved together, chasing the release they both so desperately needed. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room. The bed springs sang a song of primal lust, accompanied by the music of their gasping moans.

Tom’s fingers bunched into a fist, catching her hand in the process. He held onto her as his wife clenched around him, driving him on, pulling him deeper. 

Close. He was so close now. He could only hope that she was there with him as she gasped in pleasure, arching against him. Her walls fluttered around him. He moaned deeply as begging pleas for more fell from her lips.

She was his. His wife. His new life. His new everything. 

She was his. 

Finally, he had someone. Finally, he was enough for someone. 

Finally. 

~~~~~<3

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