#he worked night shift up until last year and i was always waiting up for him till 4am

[clits-and-clips]

Going to sleep is so fkn hard I just want to call him and tell him I love him and ask for cuddles when will that stop

[buckiverse]

Missing You Always

based on the steal a moment phone call!!

☆--- paring: sylus x reader

☆--- summary: Your marriage to Sylus has been a challenging one because of your long distant status. Sylus is determined to remind you that distance can't diminish what you share. He reassures not only your mind but also your body, reminding you why you're meant for each other.

☆--- word count: 4.5k

☆--- warnings: mdni, slight angst, there's comfort don't worry, soft!dom sylus, you take a bath together, oral sex, fingering, doggy, back shots, bit of background story, sylus is an eater ok..., (he eats your cum), size kink if you squint, no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: i had to get this one out quick because rafayel is quickly taking over my brain ngl.

Just a couple of months before, you married Sylus. He has certainly lived up to (and well beyond) your expectations. While he is the perfect loving husband, your current situation is less than favorable. You knew what you agreed to in this marriage, and you knew the first few years would be difficult, but it did not stop you from feeling a pang in your chest when you arrived home, and your lovely husband was not there because, well, he is still in the N109 Zone. 

You walked into the front door of your shared home with Sylus, but then again, was it? He is never here during the week. You had both discussed it plenty in the early stages of your relationship, but that did not make the adjustment any easier now that you had moved back to Linkon. Being a hunter was difficult for you, mind, body, and spirit. 

Despite your feelings, you fought to hold on until the weekend. You knew Sylus was coming home to you soon. After work tomorrow, you would go home, and your lover would be waiting for you. That thought made you smile. 

You strolled into your home through the grand entryway, maneuvering through it to find the living area. Walking through the arch, you looked above your head to see the chandelier suspended above the coffee table. Turning your head, you observed the ceiling-to-floor windows, admiring the sunset. 

Your imagination took over, the thought of walking in tomorrow, noticing the lit fireplace, candles throughout the room, and the signature scent of vanilla being carried throughout the room. You’d know without a doubt that he was home. Your gaze would be drawn to the kitchen where Sylus would be standing. Maybe he got a gift for you, he usually does, something that reminded him of you during your signature five days apart.

“I miss him,” you said aloud reluctantly. A sigh escaped your lips, and your hands covered your eyes, leaving you feeling the somber silence around you.

A few beats of silence were interrupted by Sylus’s signature ringtone. Pulling you from your mind, you shifted quickly, searching for your phone. Making your way to your work bag, you pull the phone out of the front pocket before swiping “accept” on Sylus’s phone call. 

Sylus: "You have no idea how much I’ve missed this—just hearing your voice, sweetie. It’s been way too long. Feels like forever since I’ve had you all to myself." You: "I know, baby. I’ve missed you too. Every night, I go to bed wishing you were here." Sylus: "Soon, though. Tomorrow, it’s all about us. You and me, finally. I’ve been counting down the days." You: "Me too. I remember the last time we were together…our little movie night… I loved it so much." Sylus: "Yeah? Well, tomorrow, I plan to make it even better. We’ve got catching up, and I’m not just talking about our dinner date, sweetie. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop. I miss touching you, holding you… just being with you." You: "I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Just the thought of being with you makes everything feel right." Sylus: "Good. Because tomorrow, the second I walk through that door, I’m not letting you go. No distractions, no interruptions, just you and me. How’s that sound?" You: "Sounds perfect. I’ve been dying to just… be with you again. Really be with you." Sylus: "Good. ‘Cause I plan to remind you how much I’ve missed you in every way."

☆---

"Hey, Sy! Are you almost here yet?" Your voice carried a hint of strain as you focused on dinner preparations. You had cubed some steak, and the hot grease sizzled and popped back at you while you basted the meat with a rich butter-garlic mixture, ensuring each piece absorbed the flavorful glaze.

“Yes, Kitten. I should be there in a few minutes, but check the door; there's a gift for you outside.”

“Oh! Okay, I didn't know. I’ll go look.” You disconnected the call with Sylus and went to the front door of your house. You saw an absurdly large box waiting for you as you opened the door. You maneuvered the box inside, wanting to open it. You grabbed your knife, tearing through the tape on the top. Once opened, you saw the little white note inside waiting for you. 

“For our date.” The simple cursive of the letter made you raise an eyebrow till you bent down and opened the box. You found face masks, bath bombs, moisturizers, oils, candles, and anything you could have desired.

“Ah, so he planned a self-care night. How cute!” Then you heard the door creak open, causing you to turn around. You dropped the items swiftly back in the box, overwhelmed with emotion.  

“I’m home, my love,” he said sweetly. A large smile instantly plastered your face at the sight of him, and you ran into his arms. You could admit that while you were growing used to your hyper-independence, you missed him. His scent, his touch, his presence. How your days to weeks apart made your heart grow fonder was amazing.

You ran to him, jumping in his arms. He caught you quickly as you gave him a tight hug. “I missed you,” you whispered into his ear, pressing soft kisses to his ear lobe. He shuddered at the feeling of your kiss, his eyes falling closed. You pulled your head back to look into his eyes. The heat of your soft kisses ran through him as he opened his eyes to meet yours. He placed his forehead flush against yours, a smile appearing on his face. His hands tightened his hold on you. 

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t want to know how much I wished I could come to you this past week,” Sylus said, his eyes dropping to your lips. Holding you with just one arm, his right hand caressed your face. Your face flushed a bit. The look in his eyes said even more than his words. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, “I missed this,” he said, kissing you languidly, almost like you were frozen in time. “And this,” his hand moved, tilting your chin upwards and to the side, pressing a taught kiss to your jaw. “This,” he tilted his head and kissed your neck slowly, starting where your jaw meets your neck, down to where your collarbone begins, before his teeth found your skin, nibbling on it gently. 

A rough breath came from your lips. The feeling of his lips and teeth on you always felt amazing. “Sylusss, let’s finish dinner. I smell it burning,” you said, smelling the cube steak slowly turning into burnt steak.  

He kissed you once more and nibbled on the skin by your collarbone. “Okay, we wouldn’t want dinner to burn now, would we?” he laughed, placing you on your feet. You turned around and made your way to the kitchen, still feeling flustered by how he kissed you moments ago. 

Sylus followed closely behind, his presence warm and comforting. You carefully plated the meal—tender, butter-basted (slightly burnt) steak cubes, roasted vegetables, and creamy mashed potatoes. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, the perfect mix of savory and satisfying.

"Smells amazing, sweetie," Sylus murmured as he leaned against the counter, watching you with that familiar, teasing grin.

You handed him his plate, the warmth of the food almost matching the heat between you two. Together, you carried the plates to the couch, where the night would begin. The soft lighting in your house casts a cozy glow, setting the perfect mood for the evening ahead.

"Dinner and a show?" he teased, settling beside you, his eyes lingering on yours.

You laughed softly. "Something like that. Let’s just say… we won’t leave this couch for a while."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I like the sound of that."

You both dug into the meal, the flavors rich and comforting, but the real excitement lingered between each bite, the anticipation building for the rest of the date.

The movie you chose to accompany your dinner was a sad romantic comedy. It may not have been the best choice because now you are trying to keep tears from falling from your eyes. You wanted to enjoy your time with Sylus, not cry over nothing.

But you couldn’t help yourself. The movie discusses a couple struggling to navigate their careers. They got pulled in different directions and did not end up together… It was eerie; it was too reminiscent of your current insecurities.

You turned your head, looking at Sylus, who was already turned towards you. His brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours, hmm?” he said, bringing his hand to rest on your cheek as he slowly stroked your face. 

His tenderness and compassion for you were mind-blowing. His never-ending patience was world-shattering. A tear fell from your eye, wetting his hand. “Is this going to work? I don’t want to end up like them, Sylus.” You finally met his fierce eyes, forcing yourself to hold contact as you shared your insecurity with him.

“Listen, this isn’t forever. It's hard now, but it is temporary. I will make sure of that, " he said, his voice strained at the sight of your tears. He pulled you forward to hug him, and his embrace instantly comforted you. “I promise,” he whispered into your ear, placing the softest kiss on your earlobe. 

You pulled back ever so slightly to look him in the eyes. “I trust you, Sylus,” you said, sniffling and wiping your face. He smiled at you slightly, and your admission meant much more to him than you’d ever know. 

“Let’s continue our date. I found those face masks you’ve been texting me,” he offered. “I saw! Where’d you even find those,” you exclaimed and lightly hit his chest. You both laughed together, feeling a bit lighter now.

You shifted to your shared bathroom, which had quite an industrial feel. The walls were covered with deep blue tiles, and the floor was a patterned blue tile, which beautifully complemented the gold and brown accents throughout the room. Walking on your bare feet, the tiles felt cold under your feet, chilling your whole body and giving you goosebumps. 

Sylus followed behind you closely. The brown box rested in his large hands as he placed it on the wide granite counter. He unpacked the box, pulling out the candles, face masks, oils/lotions, and bath items. 

You walked behind him, grabbing the candles and placing them around the large bathroom. The scent of a sweet candle promptly filled the air, spreading through the room. You turned off the warm lights, allowing the candles to be your light source. 

Further setting your space for the date, you turned on some smooth jazz—something you and Sylus would appreciate. Playing instruments was not an easy feat, as you would know after your multiple failed attempts at playing the piano. 

Walking back into the bathroom connected to your primary suite, you saw that Sylus had begun to draw bath water for you two. His hand was wading in and out of the water, monitoring the temperature. You just watched as he worked. He had fresh roses in a plastic bag on the floor next to him. He picked them up, removing the petals. The red roses filled the white bathtub, some resting atop the beautiful bubble bath he made for you two.

“Do you need help getting ready for the bath?” He said suddenly, turning his head to look at you, a slight grin on your face.

“I could use some help,” you said playfully, a pout forming on your cocked head. 

Sylus stopped the bath water and was now ready for you two to share. He made his way over to you and stood tall before you. You lifted your arms, and he moved to lift your t-shirt above your head, tossing it somewhere in the bedroom, leaving you in a lacy black bra. You watched his eyes shift downward to your chest before looking you in the eyes. He laughed a bit, knowing you caught him looking.

“Your turn, Sy,” you said.

“Whatever you say, Sweetie,” he replied playfully. He lifted his arms above his head, knowing damn well he was too tall for you to pull the shirt above his head. So, instead, he moved to his knees, making it easier for you. You reached down, pulling his casual shirt over his head, leaving him shirtless, on his knees for you. Your eyes widened a bit at the sight. You’d never get over this.

“Now, these must go,” Sylus said. He was hooking his large fingers into the waistband of your black leggings and panties. He pulled them down slowly, leaving you in just a bra before him. “Always so beautiful for me,” he said, desire filled his eyes. 

He reluctantly stood to his feet, standing at full height as he moved to unclasp your bra. “May I?” He whispered tenderly against the shell of your ear. 

“Of course, baby,” you said softly. You heard the click of the bra behind you, your breasts falling as they left the support of the bra. 

Sylus stepped back, looking over your nude body. 

You flushed at his gaze, lifting your arms to cover your body. “The bath is getting cold,” you said, suddenly feeling shy in front of your husband.

“Let’s get in, sweetie,” Sylus said with a grin, swiftly slipping off his sweatpants and briefs. He lowered himself into the bath, the water rippling as he settled in, leaving space for you to join him.

You stepped into the hot bath, the warmth enveloping your legs as the water sloshed with your added weight. Steadying your hands on the tub's edge, you guided yourself in, sinking fully until your back rested against Sylus’s broad chest. The hot water worked wonders on your tense muscles, soothing the stress from both your bodies.

The demands of your careers, the physical toll of your work as a hunter, and the mental strain of being apart all faded away at this moment. This was exactly what you both needed: to be close and together.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the side, resting it on Sylus’s strong bicep. You lost yourself in the feeling of him, ignoring the soft glow of candles and the distant music. None of it mattered as much as the sensation of his body against yours. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the hard lines of his abs, the strength in his thighs. Your fingers traced the vein from his bicep to his forearm, grounding you in the moment.

The warmth of his skin against yours was everything—comforting, intimate. You were both aware of his cock pressed against your ass, but for now, you both ignored it, savoring the quiet closeness. In this shared silence, nothing else mattered.

The warmth of the bath pulled you into a sense of calm, but the steady rise and fall of Sylus’s chest beneath you stirred something more. You could not ignore how his hands started to drift, one moving slowly up your arm, the other settling on your waist, his finger tracing gentle circles on your skin. A quiet hum of satisfaction escaped your lips as you shifted slightly, pressing your back more firmly against him.

“You feel incredible, sweetie,” Sylus murmured into your ear, his deep voice sending a shiver through you despite the warmth of the water.

The light touch of his lips grazed your shoulder, and you felt a surge of heat build inside you. His lips lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck, his breath hot against your skin. 

You tilted your head back to give him better access, your heart quickening as his touch became firmer, more deliberate. The tension between you that had been quietly building suddenly felt undeniable. His hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing gently, and you felt a low moan escape your lips.

"Sylus..." you whispered, your voice breathless, your body instinctively pressing against him. His cock, which you both had been ignoring, now became impossible to dismiss.

He growled softly, lips still brushing your neck. "I’ve missed this," Sylus whispered, his lips brushing your ear, voice deep and full of desire. "But I think it's time we take this somewhere... a little more open."

Without waiting for an answer, he shifted beneath you, his strong arms lifting you out of the water as easily as if you weighed nothing. Water dripped from your skin, splashing back into the tub as he stood, holding you effortlessly in his arms.

"Sylus!" you gasped, gripping his shoulders as he carried you with that familiar, confident grin. He didn’t speak and just gave you a knowing look, his eyes dark with intent.

He walked you over to the bathroom counter, the cool surface contrasting the heat radiating from your body. Gently but firmly, Sylus sat you down, your wet skin making contact with the smooth countertop, the chill making you gasp.

Before you could fully adjust to your new position, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands tugging you forward, positioning you exactly how he wanted. His gaze locked onto yours as he parted your plush thighs, his breath hot against your skin.

"I told you, sweetie," he growled, eyes filled with desire. "Your wish is my command."

Your eyes widened at the sight of him on his knees before you. You were breathless, waiting for his next move.

Sylus’s fingers slotted between your folds, moving to spread them open for him. Your pussy was already so wet, and his fingers were soaked in your slick just from opening you up. He pressed a firm kiss against your pretty little clit. His kiss was slow, testing your reaction. Your hips bucked from his kiss. He could tell you’ve grown needy for him. 

“It seems I'm not taking good care of my wife.” His intense gaze reached yours. His mouth opened, allowing his hot tongue to make contact with your sensitive clit. 

A moan fell from your lips. You were quickly feeling overwhelmed. The cold counter, your wet skin, his tongue, his eye contact. You couldn’t help but close your eyes. There was too much going on. 

His tongue expertly flicked your clit, and he was messily making out with your cunt. He decided he would spell his name on it. He loved reminding you who you belonged to after your time apart. He moved his index finger, choosing to work your hole while pleasing your clit. His finger stroked your entrance back and forth, dipping inside a bit more each time he made a pass. You moved your hands to grip under your legs, bracing yourself. Your head bent back, resting against the large mirror in the bathroom. 

He shifted his expert tongue, closing his lips around your clit. Nibbling on your clit lightly, dragging your attention back to him. It’s almost like he was punishing you for looking away from him. 

“Eyes on me, Kitten,” Sylus said, his words sending vibrations straight into your clit, as he pushed his larger finger into you. Beginning to stroke your insides, he found that little sensitive button inside you, pressing it firmly, causing you to squirm beneath him, growing heat in your belly. You could feel the heat going to your face at the sight before you. 

Sylus wanted—needed all of you, but more than anything, he needed your attention. He has to know that you share his desire.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. You fought to keep your eye on him, even as your pleasure began to build up inside you. The heat of his mouth, his fingers pumping into you expertly, just felt so good.

During the days you spent apart, you counted the hours away. The feeling of his tongue on yours, his body against yours, nothing could compare to what you share with Sylus. The spots are the only ones he knows and can only dare to explore. He blew your mind every time. 

You shifted one of your hands to grip his white hair. It slotted between your fingers so easily when you tugged it like that. A groan released from his mouth, vibrating your cunt. 

“I– oh fuck,” you said suddenly as your hips began to spasm hard against his beautiful face. Your hips lifted at the intensity of the pleasure running through you.

“I know. Come for me, darling,” He purred into you. He kept his mouth on you as you rode out your high. You rode his face, spreading your juices all over him.

Sylus smirked at you. His face was covered in your arousal as you slowly released your grip on his hair. A lazy smile appeared on your face as he stood to kiss you, his hand reaching out, cupping your face sweetly. He kissed you slowly, saving this moment with you. The way he pressed against you sent warmth through your veins. 

Reluctantly parting his lips from yours, he lifted you off your ass onto your feet.

“Turn around for me, Kitten,” he commanded you sweetly. And you complied, turning around and facing the large mirror before you in the bathroom. You bent over on the counter, the cold granite causing your nipples to harden against it. You rested on your forearms, making eye contact with Sylus in the mirror. He licked his lips, collecting your remaining arousal on his tongue.

And he held that with you, not daring to look away. He took his cock in his hands, his girth heavy in his hands, and he guided himself to your cunt. Gauging your reaction, he rubbed his cock against your slit, and you squirmed a bit, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm. 

He pushed into you slowly, agonizingly slow. Your eyes were a bit teary as you bit your lip, watching him tease you. You could feel the burn of him stretching you out. It’d been so long since he fucked you. “don’t tease,” you whined, your lips pouting slightly. You turned back, looking at him directly. “I need you,” you said, your body burning with need.

He kissed you roughly, tilting your head a bit to allow him better access to your lips. At the same time, he sheathed himself fully inside you. A desperate moan fell from your lips, and you tilted your head forward, watching him in the mirror. He took on a slow, deep pace at first, dragging his hips back before pounding back into you. 

His hands found your lower back, gripping your flesh, bracing himself as he pounded into you. The intensity of his thrusts caused your body to create friction against the counter. Your breast, your stomach, his hands on your backside. It just felt so good.

He thrust into you repeatedly, and you heard the slap of his heavy erection pounding into you. The slap of his balls hit your clit repeatedly as he kept his rhythm. Breaking his eye contact with you, Sylus's eyes trained on where he was pounding into you. Every time he pulled out, your cunt dragged him back in. Begging for him not to pull away. You kept gripping down on him.

He watched as your juices mixed, the white film appearing around the base of his cock. A sly smile appeared on his lips, sending the desire coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes, focusing on how you felt around him. Your gummy walls sucked him in, asking for him to stay. You kept gripping his cock so well you couldn’t possibly understand what you were doing to him. He could feel every little time you twitched, gripped him, sucked down on him. And the sounds coming from your pretty little mouth were egging him on. Begging him to come in your pretty pussy, and he couldn’t resist much longer. 

You felt yourself involuntarily grip down on Sylus again, and you turned your head to look at him directly, his pretty face, the flush on his cheeks. He was driving you crazy, too. He kept hitting that sensitive spot inside you, his heavy balls slapping your clit over and over. You couldn’t help but grip down on him again. You watched his eyebrows furrow as he slightly opened his eyes to look at yours. His eyes squinted as pleasure began to take over his body. 

“You feel so good,” he gritted out, his flushed face apparent as you looked at him more closely. The sight is so erotic, a moan released from your lips. You could feel your wetness all over him. Your cunt was dripping at the sight before you. 

He began to keel over you. Resting a bit on your back as his thrusts became more sloppy. He laid on top of you completely, “You’ll take my come, won’t you, baby?” he whispered in your ear. 

“Y–yes,” you moaned out. His eyes closed as he rutted into you over and over as his ropes of come filled you. 

Your hands gripped the counter, steadying yourself until his thrusts slowed up a bit. He was losing his pace and becoming sloppy as he finished riding his high.

His breathing was uneven as he rested his weight on your backside. “You’re always so good for me, Kitten,” he said breathlessly.

He pulled out slowly, trying to keep his seed in you before he got on his knees, and your eyebrows hit your hairline in shock.

“Can’t let this escape now, can we?” Sylus said, slight amusement in his voice as he used his fingers to push his release back inside you before he stood up and licked his two fingers clean. He was looking into your eyes using the mirror.

“Sylus!” you exclaimed at the sight. He’d never done that before. It's a true sight to behold.

“We taste so good together, sweetie,” he remarked casually, causing heat to go to your face as you watched him leave the room.

He returned with a soft towel, wetting the cloth in the sink, furthest from you, so as not to re-wet your now dry skin. 

He came back over and wiped your excess shared fluids from your cunt, leaving you slightly damp from the wetness of the towel.

At that, you rolled over, sitting on the counter, before tenderly kissing Sylus on his taut lips. “Thank you,” you whispered to him. He’s always so attentive, you thought. He pressed himself flush against you before wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Let’s lay down now,” he said, picking you up. 

You giggled at that. “Yes, let’s,” you said with a large smile. You missed this.

☆---

I feel like Sylus and Raf are the most fun to write for. Their stories always have so much banter idk. THIS IS NOT ZAYNE SHADE, that's my man fr.

[distantdarlings]

HAVE ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When you are paired with Cormac McClaggen for a mid-semester project, he takes it as an opportunity to shoot his shot. However, despite your numerous rejections, he doesn't seem to want to let up. That is until Theo gets involved.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT, depictions of violence (a small fight, specifically), blood described very briefly, Cormac is hitting on reader and won't leave them alone, language, oral sex (perf. on reader), kissing, dom!Theo, fem reader, not proof-read

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Hotel - Montell Fish

---

The chatter around the classroom slowly dwindled as Professor Snape silently slipped through the door of his office. Everyone was waiting patiently for the results of his decision from yesterday. He mentioned that the mid-semester project would be partnered rather than solo. To you, that was bad news, but to others in the class, it was good. You worked best when you didn’t have to sort out the ideas getting bounced around aloud. But if you had to work with a partner, please let it be someone halfway decent.

“So,” Snape starts, “I have here the list of partners for the mid-semester project. As a reminder, you will be handling very toxic materials, so for the sake of all of our time, be careful with them.” His expression hinted at boredom, despite the unfortunate things he was referencing. Last year, someone nearly lost a hand with this project, and—to be quite honest—that was one of the reasons you were so excited about it. You liked the challenge and, even better, overcoming it. But you couldn’t do that with a shitty partner. Your fingers crossed beneath your open notebook.

“Malfoy with Weasley, Berkshire with Granger,” he began listing the names. Your hips shifted uncomfortably. He was pairing everyone with the opposite house. Surely he’d grant you some mercy with how well you’d been doing in this class?

“—Nott with Finnigan—” Your thoughts were briefly interrupted as Theodore’s name was called. That was an interesting pairing; however, you knew that Potions was one of Theo’s strong suits, and, granted they worked well together, the both of them would successfully keep their eyebrows intact. 

Your eyes found the older boy, tracing over every line on his face. You were friends, pretty good friends. His whole group of Slytherins were friendly with you, really. But there was something about him that had shocked you to your core from the first night you’d met him and started chatting at the Sorting ceremony when the both of you were eleven. He was quite literally one of the most attractive people you’d ever seen, and it seemed like he knew it too. The way he held himself down to the way he communicated with people, he just knew he was alarmingly alluring. 

He had a way of staring right into your eyes when you spoke to him, almost to the point it felt as if he was reading your mind. No matter what, he’d give you his full attention, even more so than his other friends, it seemed. Maybe you had always imagined it, but if you called his name, he was there. He would be waiting with his ear next to your lips, eager to hear what you had to say, no matter how you were feeling. Perhaps it was cliche, but you felt as though you could tell him anything, and you did. 

His eyes found yours suddenly. His lips parted into a crooked smile, his dazzling white teeth peeking through slightly. You returned the action, raising your eyebrows in an amused fashion at his partner for the project. He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. He pointed at you and mouthed, ‘You’re coming up.’ You rolled your eyes and laughed silently as you brushed him off. You were laughing, but, in all seriousness, this wasn’t a comedic matter. Your Potions grade was potentially on the chopping block here, and you were getting nervous. Snape didn’t grade depending on who did what; he simply graded on the project's legitimacy. You could do this by yourself, but if whomever your partner ended up being fucks it up, you both were screwed. And, on top of it all, you would have to work with a Gryffindor, someone you likely barely knew. Perfect. 

Your name perked your ears as Snape paused for a moment, trying to decipher his own handwriting. Merlin, was he trying to tease you? You glanced around, wondering who hadn’t been selected yet. You hadn’t been paying attention. “Ah! With McClaggen.”

Your heart sank. You turned to glance over your shoulder at the showy Gryffindor sitting in the back corner of the classroom. He sent a wink and a small smirk your way, to which you replied by quickly turning back around. Did the universe hate you? It must. That was the only answer. Shit.

“Get to work,” he instructed, returning to his office and firmly shutting the door behind him. You weighed out the options in your head on how angry Snape would be if you asked to switch partners. You were sure he picked them for a reason…or maybe he didn’t? Merlin, help. Should you even bother with this? Maybe you could convince McClaggen to let you do all the work. He could sit patiently by and be quiet.

The classroom bustled gently as students were standing and finding their partners. Small groans echoed as everyone paired up. Apparently, you weren’t the only one that disliked your partner. Usually, you wouldn’t have expected Professor Snape to have paired Gryffindors with Slytherins. Who knew? Maybe he was trying something new.

You hid a wince and got to your feet. You collected your notebook and school bag and made your way over to the smirking boy. His hands were placed cockily behind his head, and one leg rested, crossed over the other. He maximalized every bit of space he took up, like a peacock. You repressed a groan and sat down in the seat next to him, neatly spreading your things out. 

“Well, hello,” he cooed. “I don’t think I’ve spoken with you before.”

“I don’t think so either,” you chuckled nervously, eyes finding the back of Theo’s head. He sat towards the front of the classroom, partnered with the clumsy Gryffindor. You wondered if he was having the same doubts you were. As if on beat, his head turned and made eye contact with you. He hid a smile at your current predicament and gave you a small wave with his fingers. You rolled your eyes and, with the hand farthest from McClaggen, pretended to choke yourself with it. Theo laughed aloud before turning back around when his partner tapped his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” your partner asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing,” you smiled, “how about we get started?”

Most of the class period was spent discussing the potion the two of you wanted to brew. The assignment was to pick one of the most difficult potions to brew and to make and document the experience successfully. All of the potions you were to choose from were in the very last chapter of your textbook, and the two of you flipped through the pages, unsure. 

Every so often, Cormac (you’d learned his first name was) would point at something on one of the pages and scoot ever so closer to you. He was so close now you could smell the peppermint candy he swished around his mouth. His arm rested alongside the back of your chair, and you were…immensely uncomfortable. Your back straightened so as not to come into contact with his arm. 

Throughout this whole experience, you’d glance Theo looking back at the two of you every so often and wonder if you could signal him to distract the boy. It wasn’t that you felt threatened; you just wish he’d back the hell up. If you had a personal bubble, it had long since combusted. His face was so close to yours, and no matter how far you leaned away, he’d get closer. Finally, you’d had enough.

“Cormac,” you laughed nervously. You placed one hand on his chest and slowly pushed him back toward his own seat. 

“What is it?” he asked. No matter what you did, that stupid smirk never failed.

“You are very close to me,” you explained, trying to remain as polite as possible. He shrugged and chuckled a bit, gaining on some of the space you’d placed between the two of you. 

“Well, that’s because I want to get closer to you,” he said. 

“Uh, no,” you tittered, “that’s okay. Let’s just do the project.” You tapped the textbook and pretended to immerse yourself back in the information, hoping he’d let it lie. He didn’t. His arm wrapped back around your chair, and your eyes slipped close in exasperation. 

“Cormac, please—”

“What? Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do a project together?” he asked, scooting closer yet again.

“No, I really don’t. I just want to get this done.” His face resumed its previous proximity to yours. He smirked at the closeness and you sighed, turning your face away from his, begging Theo to glance back again.

“Oh, I see…is he your boyfriend?” Cormac asked. Your face shot back to his.

“What? No! He’s just a friend,” you said.

“That was a very quick, rushed answer,” he laughed, “but if you say so, that’s even better for me—”

“Please, let’s just do the assignment,” you pleaded, “I’m really not interested.”

“Not even for a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“No, not really, you’re not my type.” You glanced back at Theo. He was finally looking back. Only this time, his eyes were locked on the boy beside you, with his face so close to yours. His eyes gleamed blood red, and his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyebrows furrowed, begging him to intervene somehow. If Cormac wasn’t too embarrassed to shoot his shot in the middle of class, surrounded by his peers, you were almost positive he’d continue to harass you outside of the classroom. Maybe even when the two of you were alone, and he might not let up at that point.

“What is your type?” he asked. “Brooding assholes in Slytherin?” He said this part a bit louder, making direct eye contact with Theo. You could feel the tension building slightly, and did your best to diffuse the situation. You partially blocked their gaze of each other.

“Please don’t say that about him.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend. Why are you defending him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he is my friend, and I’d like you not to call him names,” you spoke sternly, eyes hardening on the boy. He was plucking the last strings of your patience. 

“Fine, I will—” you nodded at his promise “—if you let me take you to dinner.”

The bell signalling the end of class interrupted the conversation. Thank Merlin. You quickly gathered your things together and shoved them into your bag, praying he’d just drop the subject and let you move on with your day. You’d figure out a way to deal with him later. For right now, you just wanted to get your free period started as soon as possible. He stood right when you did. You ignored him and made for the exit, walking as quickly as looked natural.

You were the first out of the classroom and down the hall, trying your best to get away from him without completely abandoning Theo. A hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. It roughly spun you around, yanking a yelp from your throat. You stood before Cormac, who had a sinister look on his face. 

“You never answered me,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner…”

“No, Cormac, I don’t want to go,” you said, attempting to wrestle yourself out of his iron grip. What about your thousand answers was he not grasping? 

“Let go of me.” His hand did not release you, and it did not seem like he intended to, either. You slipped your hand between his and your shoulder, trying to edge it off. He made a sound of endearment before attempting to slide a hand around your hips. You squealed and squirmed away from him, trying to prevent him from wrapping his arms farther around you.

“Hey!” A voice shouted. The both of you began to turn, but before Cormac could get his head fully pivoted, a hand appeared on his shoulder and yanked him away from you. It was Theo, and he appeared to be fuming. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes were wild.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, McClaggen?” he demanded. “She said no, you dick!”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. She said you weren’t her boyfriend,” the younger laughed meanly, poking him roughly in the chest. You winced at the contact. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, pushing the boy back from him. Cormac stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. It appeared he was as surprised as everyone else was at the sudden hostility. Cormac laughed cockily. 

He raised a hand and swung his fist at Theo as hard as he could, getting a good hit in. Theo’s head jerked to the side from the force of the punch, and you gasped sharply, hands shooting to cover your mouth in shock. Natural instincts told you to jump back, but you rushed toward Theo, who pushed you back gently behind him, squeezing your arm firmly. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it meant to stay put. 

“Come on, Slytherin!” Cormac shouted. “Show me what your reject house is made of!”

A crowd of other students had begun to gather around the two boys, curious to see what all of the commotion was. Adrenaline pumped through your veins like ice water as you watched Theo approach the other boy, cocking his arms and wringing any stiffness out of them. 

Before you could feel the exhalation of breath leave your body, Theo swung his arm at the boy, cracking him hard across the jaw. As if in slow motion, Cormac fell back and hit the ground with a hard thud. You imagined his tailbone would be quite bruised tomorrow morning. 

Theo fell down on top of the boy, legs resting on either side of his hips, and wailed on him. Fist after fist hit the boy’s face, pushing more and more blood out of him. You screamed in shock as you realized Theo had no intention of stopping. Around the same time you did, everyone else did too. They began throwing shouts of concern and pressing in on the two boys. Everybody loved a good fight now and then but nobody wanted to see someone get killed. 

Yet, nobody put their hands on Theo for fear of being in the same predicament as Cormac currently was. That was, until Enzo and Mattheo ran up behind the crowd. You heard them ask if that was Theo.

“Enzo!” you shouted his name, waving over the crowd. His eyes quickly found yours and in seeing the distress on your face, began weaving through the crowd. Mattheo quickly followed suit. 

When they breached the barrier of the crowd, their eyes widened, and they made for their friend. They grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the poor boy, his face a mangled mess. You looked away quickly, not wanting to see the damage that had been done in your favor.

Once pulled away, a gathering of students ran over to Cormac and covered him with a wall of their protection, trying to see if they could help him somehow. You turned to Theo, who was breathing heavily, a single dripping of blood pouring from his nose. You turned to the bottom of your uniform shirt, found the edge of the seam, and tore a small section of it. You could get a replacement sometime later.

You approached the boy with a murderous gaze and gently pressed the piece of shirt beneath his nose. He flinched slightly but never looked away from Cormac. Maybe that hadn’t been for you, and he’d just wanted to beat Cormac’s ass—which is understandable, but still. You weren’t totally sure why he did it.

“Theo?” you spoke gently. His glare didn’t waver. The fingers pressing the material against his bloodied nose tilted his face carefully to look at you. His eyes found yours, softening slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t stand him touching you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. He didn’t seem convinced. How he looked at you with such concern and worry made you wonder if he thought you were mad at him. You shook your head at the question running through your mind. Obviously, he didn’t know what you had been thinking, but you hoped he’d understand somehow. 

You helped Enzo and Mattheo pull him to his feet and escort him away from the crowd before any of the professors showed up. Speaking of which, they likely should have been out here by now. 

As you helped the boys guide Theo toward the Slytherin common room, you were careful to avoid any obvious eyes that raced past them to see what the aftermath of the commotion was. Hopefully, nobody would notice them and they could deal with the whole situation later. The group turned the corner and stopped before the entrance to the dorm room. Enzo announced the password, and the lot of you headed inside, pulling Theo up the stairs and into the boys’ dorm room. He pulled away from them suddenly and sat on his bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay!” he declared. “I just got a sock to the jaw; my legs weren’t broken.”

“They’re just trying to help, Teddy,” you whispered, trying to place the cloth back on his nose that had started up its intermittent spurting again. He sighed and gently grabbed your wrist, holding it away from his face. He was never rough with you, despite how angry he was.

“I’m fine, I’m just wound up, I don’t need any of you to—”

“Nonsense,” you interrupted him. “Mattheo, Enzo, would the two of you mind running down to the hospital wing and asking Madam Pomfrey if she has anything to stop the bleeding. It’s not excessive, but it’s messy.”

“Is there not a spell or something like that?” Mattheo asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

“Not one that I know off the top of my head. Would you just go ask her, please?” you repeated yourself. The two boys seemed to hesitate but eventually worked their way out of the room with their destination in mind. Once they were gone, your eyes turned back to Theo’s. An amused glint lay suspended in his eyes.

“‘Nothing that comes to mind?’” he smirks. “If a spell comes to my mind and not yours, the world must be upside down.” You conceal a laugh. You knew a spell. You knew multiple healing spells, but you wanted Mattheo and Enzo out of the room for a second. You just wanted to speak with Theo about what had happened. 

“I’m sorry I lied to your friends,” you said. “But I really wanted to talk with you privately, and I didn’t want to wait.” His eyes keep a tight hold on yours. You swallow thickly. 

“Okay, what is it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Anxiety pools in your stomach as you realize you hadn’t really planned anything to say. You wanted to know why Theo had done what he did and if it was for or because of you. Cormac had been bothering you, yes, but it could have just been that Theo really disliked him and wanted to intervene. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask. Probably the worst way you could have asked that, but it was what came out. You might as well own it at this point. 

“Do what?” he mused.

“Why did you stop Cormac?”

“That feels like a dumb question. He was laying his hands on you without your permission.”

“Would you have done that for anyone, though?” you stuttered through your interrogation.

“I suppose not….why do you ask?” he asked, the smirk never leaving his face. Your eyes fell down to his lips suddenly, noticing that there was a small amount of dried blood stained across them. A small gasp left your lips as you reached your hand out. You didn’t think through any of the following movements; you just allowed your body to do as it pleased. Your fingers gently cradled his jaw, and your thumb swiped slowly over his lips, collecting the bit of staining as it crossed. Your eyes found him again, and you realized he was intently watching you. His eyes were softened by hunger. The way they traveled down to your lips, his lips parting as he found yours, his hands clenching by his side. It sent a chill down your spine. 

“Theo,” you breathed. You could not pull your eyes away from his swollen lips. You wanted so badly to learn their taste and memorize it for eternity. Just one kiss and you could be satisfied for the rest of your days. 

“I kicked Cormac’s ass because he was laying his hands on you, and I have been desperate to do that for years…,” he whispered. “The difference between him and I, though? I ask permission.” A glimpse of a chuckle spreads over his lips, and you feel your stomach blush with heat. As if he could feel it happen to you, his nose bumped softly against yours, igniting the heat and transforming it into a flame. 

“I want you so bad,” he whispered, the air skimming your lips. “Please let me have you.”

“Have me, Teddy.” Your response was final. His hands gripped each side of your face firmly and pressed your lips together. Heat and light and everything in between exploded into your stomach, sending shocks of love into your heart. You could have melted on the spot, and you nearly did, if it weren’t for Theo wrapping one arm tightly around your waist and holding you up.

His tongue slid over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access to every part of you with no push-back. All you wanted was to feel him everywhere and never to lose that feeling ever again. 

The both of his hands pushed around the back of your thighs and pulled them to either side of his bent knees. He settled you neatly onto his lap, you straddling his thighs against the bed. The action sent a lightning bolt of pleasure directly to your core as the space between his thighs urged gently against you. You sighed against his mouth, entangling your fingers into his hair. 

Everything about him was overwhelming. His smell, his taste, and his touch had you gasping for air. You had never realized how much you truly wanted him until this very moment. Without so much as a breath, he cradled your back with one hand and stood from his bed, lifting the two of you into the air. You squeaked from the sudden movement but relaxed instantly when he settled you against his bed. 

His lips detached from yours and quickly made alliance with your jaw and then your neck. His head worked down the frame of your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every sliver of skin he could find. When he reached the waistline of your uniform skirt, he tapped his finger twice against the spot where your shirt was tucked in. You nodded so quickly, it was almost pathetic. He smirked and slipped his hands between the materials. He tugged your shirt out and began laying the same types of kisses over your bare stomach. You groaned at the feeling, noticing the ardor he placed into each press of his lips. You felt worshipped and it was addicting.

His eyes flicked up to find yours as he slowly pushed himself farther down, placing himself just in front of your core. Without question, your legs began to spread for him, allowing him access to anything he wanted. You just needed to feel him; you didn’t care what he did. 

Your eyes found his face once more and scanned over the entirety of it. A deep, sinister glance rested in his eyes, holstering a lust so dark, it almost frightened you. His lips were slightly parted in a teasing, smirking way, just waiting to place themselves against you once more. And his nose had…oh, it had begun to bleed again. You reached down and swiped your thumb beneath it, pushing the excess discharge away. A small twinge of guilt hit you again at the thought of Theo getting himself hurt for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, frowning at the sight before you.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he breathed, “you are perfect.” And with that, he’d flipped the edge of your skirt over your legs and sunk his face between them. His tongue found your core before you could even get a word out. A breathless moan spilled from your lips as your spine arched off the bed. Your hands immediately pushed down to wrap themselves in his curls, savoring every single swipe of his tongue. 

“So fucking good,” he moaned against you, the vibrations sending messages up to your very brain. You quaked beneath the feeling, your thighs shaking against the boy’s hold on them. It was nearly becoming too much. You weren’t going to last much longer. If he wanted to do something, he’d better get to it.

“Theo, I’m…c—”

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered, pressing two chaste kisses to the inside of your thighs. You could feel the wetness spread across his lips and chin smear against your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation. It definitely should not have turned you on as much as it just did. “I want it on my tongue.”

He separates himself from you and slides his hands beneath the crook of your knees. With a firm grip, he yanks you to the edge of the bed, where your hips are lying just over the curve. His hands find your hips and flip you over onto your stomach, careful to avoid hurting you in any way. Ever so gentle.

You could hear him kneel down again behind you. Your thighs shook in anticipation just before he pressed his lips back to you. His tongue swirled across you in the most delicate of motions, drawing every sound possible from your lips. Your fingers gripped the sheets as each of his movements drew you closer to the edge. You might finish any second. 

“Hey-o!” Mattheo’s voice came from just outside the door. You jumped up and glanced back at Theo as the both of you separated as fast as possible. Theo came up to sit beside you on the bed and made quick work of wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. You pulled your skirt back over your legs and stood at attention, waiting for the two boys to enter. Damn it. You had been so close. 

The two boys walked in, clutching a small vial of liquid. Mattheo raised it to show the two of them, both of whom quickly nodded, smiling innocently. Surely, they wouldn’t suspect anything of the two of you. You’d never really expressed any feelings toward the other before now. At least not publicly.

“Where do you want this?” Mattheo asked.

“If you would just take it to the bathroom, we’re headed in there so they can help me clean up the rest of the way.” Both of the other boys nodded and headed back out the way they came, moving toward the group bathroom. 

Just as they left, Theo slipped his hand beneath your skirt and traced his fingers along you, allowing one to insert itself to its hilt. You gasped sharply, trying your best to mute the sound. His hand began to pump against you, slowly rising in speed as he hit that perfect spot each time with ease. The sounds spilling from your lips became less and less controlled as he pushed you towards the edge, keeping you standing tall and refusing to let you lay back down on the bed.

“Come like this, baby,” he whispered. “Quickly, before they get back.” His finger pressed deeply up into you one last time, bruising the soft spot and forcing a rushing finish down on you. Your lips parted in a shocked moan as the proof of your end slipped down around Theo’s fingers. He worked you through the entirety of it, never tiring and never halting. He could do this all day. 

The sound of his friends heading back toward the dorm room pushed the two of you apart once again. Only this time, Theo had a telling, lustful expression imprinted on his face, and the remains of your ecstasy were still painted across his fingers. You swiped a hand between your thighs in an attempt to clean yourself off and brushed any concerns from Mattheo or Enzo off. The ‘Are you okay?’ and the ‘You guys look weird’ had nothing on the steel resolve the both of you kept planted on your faces. If Theo could fight someone for you, you could fight the urge to tell his friends he’d just let you fuck his face while they were out running an errand. Oh well, such is life. You laughed to yourself. 

[madwomansapologist]

you make loving fun | nanami kento x mom!reader

after years of pain and grief, nanami found himself going home for a placed filled with love and care. he wasn't there at the start, but he will be there until the very end. it's a promise.

cw: papamin au. step!dad!nanami. kid!yuji. fluff fluff fluff. domesticity. found family. the happy ending they both deserve.

an: inspired by this post from @froody and my own experience as someone who had a dad who not only stteped up, but levelled up.

Five minutes before the end of his shift, Nanami put on his coat and muted his notifications.

Staring at the analog clock, Nanami noticed he never did that before. He was never one to rush away from the office. One to get ready, to make sure no one could bother him, and wait for his free time to finally begin.

For how long was he the last to go home? Don't forget to turn off the lights, Nanami would hear that every night from whoever left before him. And make sure to lock the doors. Did he ever said that to someone? No. Probably no.

Once if felt useful. To work overtime was to get stronger to defeat curses. And in a world you won't gain anything for free, extra hours can feel less like a option and more like a duty. Sometimes you can be guilty for not working. It can feel wrong to just live.

But back then Nanami would come back to a empty house, sleep in a cold bed and not say a single word until the next morning. Back then there was no one waiting for him by the door, smiling simply because he came back. Back then he wasn't waiting for anything expect silence.

"Good night, 'amin", and after only twenty minutes he was parking in front of your house, watching how Yuji had to stand on his toes to reach the handle of the main door.

You told him last week Yuji would turn down the volume of his shows and videogames whenever a car passed near your home. He said Nanami drives so carefully he can always tell when to open the door.

"Good night, Yuji." Nanami locked the car, now feeling how cold it was out there. It rained this morning, the road is still wet. He opened his coat to protect Yuji from the wind, and then noticed he was still wearing his uniform. "You haven't showered yet?"

Yuji gave him a bright smile. "Mom's doing a surprise for you."

In moments like that, Nanami can see your shadow lingering over Yuji. He really is a copy of his mom. That charming smile, a tendency to avoid the subject of discussion, and that trick of revealing something exciting so their wrongdoing can be ignored.

"And what's your mom doing, kid?" And just like with you, Nanami always fall for that obvious trap.

"It depends", he said. "Will you watch Caillou with me?"

Nanami blinked. That kid. "Of course", Nanami accepted the deal, stroking his pink hair as they entered the house.

"I dunno", Yuji walked straight towards the living room, leaving Nanami speachless.

He placed his glasses on the table, now working on the knot of his tie. The aroma evolving the entire house was a telltale of your baking, and the sounds coming from his belly reminded Nanami of how long it has been since his last meal.

Deep into your own inner thoughts, you didn't noticed his presence. Nanami made sure to keep quiet, admiring you as you made sure you followed the recipe correctly.

So beautiful. Unaware of his gaze, he knew there was no flourish in the way you moved or how you murmured a song playing inside your head. You weren't trying to charm him, you were just being you, and that was more than enough for Nanami to fall in love with you once more.

It still surprises Nanami. How easy it's to love you. To be in love with you. None of you are performing. There is no lies between you two. Not when Nanami holds your hair so you can vomit. Or when you hear all the complains he kept to himself for years. Nothing but truth when you worried about Yuji's grades, when Nanami cried loudly watching a k-drama with you on the couch, when you sneezed on his mouth.

You make life real. You make loving fun.

It doesn't feel like work.

But that doesn't mean things suddenly get perfectly fine when you both are together. Nanami noticed you're still wearing formal clothes. Your eyes seemed so small, glaring at the phone as if it was miles away instead of in the counter in front of you. You haven't taken your earring off yet.

This house is safe. You made sure to build it with love, brick by brick. To give your son everything a child deserves: to be happy, protected, cared for. And there is no way of doing that alone without working until exhaustion.

But you're not alone anymore.

You haven't noticed his presence, and still Nanami didn't felt you shivering when he hugged you from behind. You recognized him. Was it his perfume? The warmth of his hands? Or perhaps how they always find a way to hold you by the hips, feeling the soft skin with his fingers?

"Yuji's gonna be a attorney", he whispered against your ear. You melt against his chest, eyes now wide open and looking deep into his. Nanami wondered if you felt his heart racing.

You smiled. "Are you saying my son is an asshole?"

"Never, my dear", Nanami hid his face at the curve of your neck. Breathing deep, he felt you shivering. You were using the perfume he gave you. "You're tired."

You sighed. Nanami is a man of few words. Sadly he's also a man of surgically right few words. "And so are you."

He kissed your skin. "I can keep an eye on him", Nanami murmured. "And another on the oven. You don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?" Tempted to accept, you also didn't want Nanami to feel like you were part of his daily duties. You rather give than take from him.

Nanami squeezed your hips, slowly allowing you to go away from him. He needed you to go, but he also needed you to stay. "This house won't burn down just because you stopped working."

"Oh, but it will. I assure you", you laughed it off.

Nanami knew it wasn't just a joke. He could almost taste that bitterness that follows truth. "It won't. I won't allow it."

When he heard you closing the bathroom door—never locking because a part of you was always ready to run if Yuji needs help—, Nanami sat down on the couch. Yuji held the control, so big on his tiny hands, and put on the show he always watches when Nanami is there with him.

This time Caillou was eating some sort of chocolate dessert. Yuji moved his mouth, quietly saying the lines from every character. "Isn't it your favorite series ever?", Yuji asked, laughing as Caillou tried to eat the dessert. "Everything he eats looks so good!"

"I never watched something so great", Nanami gazed at him. It was the forth time Nanami watched this episode. "I like that one when he plants carrots. You should try eating those."

Yuji made a face. "I prefer chocolate pudding."

Nanami looked at the television. He would be free the next day. Yuji behaved well in school recently. You mentioned even thinking about buying him a new video game. "We can make it tomorrow."

Yuji turned around so quickly he almost fell from the couch. "Really?"

"Really."

Drying your face with a towel, you checked the oven. The bread you made was still growing. Good. The television had a cartoon going on, you turned it off and went after your boys.

At Yuji's bedroom, you found him deep asleep. Nanami took off his shoes and socks, covering him with a thick blanket. He was still wearing his uniform, but he looked so at peace you couldn't force yourself to care deeply about it.

You kissed his forehead, whispered sweet nothings, and went back to the living room. A few moments later, Nanami turned the lights off and closed the bedroom door.

Sitting besides you, Nanami knew.

Life was good again.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

general taglist: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[jlheon]

𝓒𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐉𝐒

(𝓹airing) — pjs x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓼ituationship ; angst & fluff (𝔀ordcount) one thousand five-hundred 𝓹eng's note. for my event! + new layout 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. a year later and you still miss park jongseong

you have a recurring dream that happens maybe once a week.

always about the same guy and living the same day. you’ve had it so often that you can recite every little detail that happens if someone were to ask you. though the only person who knows about this dream you keep having is your dream journal. which admittedly seems pointless now if you keep having the same dream, there’s no variety. 

you’ve stopped recording your dreams since it's the same every night that you have a dream worth remembering. you only dream of him.

you wake up next to him, a child that you can only presume is yours jumping on top of you excitedly. she calls you mom and him dad. the three of you get ready, eat breakfast, he kisses you goodbye, and you take your daughter to school.

you drop off your daughter and go to your ordinary office job. then in the late afternoon you drive to pick up your daughter and go home. dinner is premade from the night before and you two wait for your husband. 

a nice family meal. he’d do the dishes while you’d carry the load of laundry.

then eventually you fall asleep in his arms. 

whose? park jongseong, or jay.

you met him in your last year of university. so about two years ago now, but it’s been a year since you saw him.

you knew from the start that he was only spending a year here. 

so the time you spent with him was admittedly short. 

meeting through a mutual friend and spending a lot of time in group settings for the first semester. you still aren’t sure what shifted but you and jay started hanging out in the last semester before graduation alone, which bled into the summer after university until he left the country. 

in those last few months, there was an undeniable amount of chemistry and tension between the two of you. 

it stayed unspoken as you both knew that soon you would be miles apart when jay would leave to start his job for working for his father and you would be running around the city looking for a job, a relationship didn’t fit in the picture. 

you just kind of just acted like a couple without the label or conversation. 

it did more harm than good to your yearning to be with jay. he held you at night like a boyfriend would, took you on dates, and kissed your face. 

you can’t wait to get married. ever since you were a child you’ve fantasized about meeting your husband. when you met jay you were certain it would be him.  

jay is business driven. he wants to continue his father’s company and focus on work for most of his life. jay isn’t looking for anything serious, he doesn’t want to settle down just yet, and he doesn’t do long distance. 

your plans for the future never once intersect with the other. you don’t want the same things. 

you can’t stay away from him though.

one night, the week before jay’s flight, you had the closest talk to about what you were. a conversation that should have happened earlier.

“do you think you’re going to date when you move away?” you ask him while eating the dinner he had made you at his apartment. 

“no,” jay says bluntly, taking a sip of his drink. “i don’t think there’ll be anyone there for me.”

“do you really want to work for your dad?” you pick up a bite from your plate. 

“there’s no one else but me,” he shrugs. “i’ll have to take over eventually, so i might as well start now.” 

“i guess you’re right,” you mumble. “is there anything that would make you stay?”

“you.” jay says honestly. “but we both know it’s too late.”

“i guess you’re right,” you sigh, playing with your food, your appetite is gone. 

“sorry,” he apologizes. “not to get your hopes up or anything.”

“it’s fine, i figured you’d say that,” you get up and walk towards the kitchen to put your dishes in the sink. 

the next day you ask jay when his flight would be leaving at the airport. he tells you that his plane leaves at twelve. you make sure you’re there by ten. 

“jay!” you call out in the crowded airport when you spot the back of his head, his birthmark on his neck showing it’s him. 

“____!” he quickly gets up from his seat at his gate. “you’re early?” 

“i wanted to get you alone before everyone else comes!” 

“oh,” jay scratches the back of his neck. “it’s just you that’s coming.”

“what! why?” you say shocked.

“i said bye to everyone else yesterday, i wanted it to just be us.”

“what if you’re forgetting someone?” you frown. 

“i’m not leaving much behind,” jay shrugs. “moving brings me closer to my family and friends”

that bitter feeling started bubbling up inside of you. it was wrong to want to beg him not to leave you but there was a part of you that always wanted to be just a little selfish. enough to make him stay and commit to you, even long distance would suffice for you, but it wouldn’t for him. you knew that better than everyone. 

“oh,” you look at the ground. “are we not friends?”

“that’s not what i meant-” 

“it’s okay,” you can’t fight the frown on your face. “we’re not anything anyways.”

the rest of the time at the airport you sit at his gate in silence. a spot between you both as an invisible barrier. you badly want to leave and forget about jay but you won’t let him go until he has to get on the plane that will take him thousands of miles away from you. 

you want to talk to him but cannot find any words. tongue-tied next to the boy you’ve grown to love in the short remaining semester of your university career. 

jay cannot seem to find the right words either. you’re here right in front of him and he can’t just hold you close for the last hours you have together. anxiously checking the time on his phone leading up to boarding. 

“boarding starts in 20 minutes,” jay says quietly. 

“oh,” is all you can respond. 

“do you want to go for a walk?” he asks, you nod. 

the two of you walk side by side in circles in the area around his gate. in an uncomfortable silence, you are not used to having with jay. 

“i have to get going,” jay pauses, stopping the both of you in his tracks.

you’re voice is still lost, tears brimming your eyes, you can only wrap your arms around his torso and cry. 

“baby…” he whispers, drawing you in closer, if that was even possible. 

you can’t stop crying, hugging him as your vision turns blurry. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally stutter out, clutching a handful of his shirt. 

“for what?” jay asks in genuine confusion. 

“loving you when you said you weren’t looking for anything.”

“don’t say that,” he replies, feeling his own eyes getting teary. “it’s neither of our faults. time just wasn’t on our side. if i could i’d do anything just to be with you.” he says into your hair. 

you reluctantly let go and find your way out of the airport and to your car. once climbing into the driver's seat you let the rest of it out. sobbing until you could no longer produce any more tears. while jay does the same while he gazes out into the sky from his airplane seat. 

jay regrets not trying with you with every day that passes. he knows that the both of you could have made long-distance work but at the end of the day he knows he cannot live up to what you want. so he deems it best to ghost you while he’s in an american state. for work he claims but it seems more like a form of self-torture.

he can keep it together for the first couple of months of work, but soon his father notices something is up. he becomes frustrated with his son’s work, he hasn’t shown any growth in months and seems overall out of it. he sends him back home and tells jay to find himself before he even thinks about becoming a ceo. 

there’s a knock at your door on a late saturday night. you’re slightly tipsy from some wine you had been sipping on, walking to the door calmly with no idea who it might be.

on the other side of your door is park jongseong. suitcase behind him, with a bouquet with your favorite flowers. 

when he sees your face for the first time in a year he can only hope you’ll let him in to make up lost time.

“jay?” you say in disbelief, rubbing your eyes and wondering if the alcohol has already taken over your system. “you’re home?”

“i'm sorry if i'm coming home too late,” he says handing you the assorted flowers.

“why are you here?”

“‘cause this time i won’t be late.”

[azsazz]

Evening Roost

ACOTAR Omegaverse Week Day 1: Cassian x Reader [Nesting]

Summary: This was supposed to be for omegaverse x acotar day 1 but now it just is. Prompt was: Surely there’s a perfectly normal, completely unsuspicious reason they’re feeling an irresistible urge to arrange and rearrange the blankets and pillows…. right?

Anon Req: for omegaverse day 1, I could so see reader spending AGES every year to make a nest, only for cassian to destroy it within like two minutes every heat cycle bc he's too distracted by his mate and excited to pay attention to little things like that ... and one year reader gets mad and is like "you're not f*cking me in here until you're not a threat to its structural integrity" and cassian is very regretful & apologizes & makes it up to her by making her cum until she can't think straight ...? (if you don't like this prompt feel free to ignore it this was just an idea ... also I'm a big fan of your work & I'm excited you're writing more!!) 🩷����

And also fulfills anon reqs : Not sure if you’re taking requests but could you write an omega/alpha fic with Cassian where reader is in heat? Love your writing! —and—Heyyyy! Once your requests might be free, can you do a Omegaverse heat fic but with Cassian, something with both angst and some spicy smut?

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2640

_________________________________________

“And…perfect,” you sigh, smiling contently to yourself as you shift the last pillow into place. Sitting back on your haunches, you admire the nest you spent the entirety of the week building, piled high and far away from where anyone can see it. Or touch it. 

Namely, your mate.

Yes, Cassian is everything you want in an alpha and more: muscle upon muscle that he uses unabashedly to carry you around, to throw you over his shoulder when you’re pouting and grumbling when you should really be riding his cock. Or when he smacks your ass with that rough, calloused hand of his, the one you’d like stuck right between your legs right now.

You shift, biting your lip as you rub your thighs together, eliciting a sensation you know all too well, a flood of warmth pooling deeply between them.

Your heat has been building for a few days now, as if waiting for the perfect moment to appear. Your body must have sensed that Cassian’s rut was on its way as well, forcing your body to respond to your alpha’s scent. You’ve been feeling the familiar discomfort of your oncoming cycle, irritable to anyone who wasn’t Cassian, sensitive to sounds and smells, especially blood, and feeling like your body is always just a little bit too hot. 

Which is why you’ve been patiently awaiting the other paw to drop, busying yourself by building the perfect nest. It has taken careful meandering and pawning of objects from throughout your home: a cord of leather that Cassian had taken out of his damp hair before climbing into the tub with you last night, the worn scabbard of one of his knives, a day old shirt that hadn’t been used for sparring, and another one that had.

In the corner of your closet, you sit, burrowing deeply into the fabrics and reveling in the scents of your mate. The mead he drank until he was dizzy still lingers from where he’d sweat it out the night after. The lingering scent of his soap, brash and heady and all male. The faint tinge of your juices from where they’d gotten on the sheets, the ones you hadn’t allowed anyone to clean, to touch when he fucked you into them two nights prior.

It feels like a secret, you think as you smile into the dark. All the way at the back of the expansive closet, nestled between hanging clothes and boots, nestled beside training boots and hidden weapons should you ever need them. It’s the perfect place, the perfect size for someone like you, an omega blissfully waiting for her alpha to fall into the throes of his rut.

“Little omega,” Cassian sing-songs. You hear the door to your bedroom opening and closing with a quick snap and your anticipation spikes. The heat between your thighs grows as your body goes hot. There’s a keen alertness to his voice that makes your stomach fill with butterflies, your cunt drench with need.

His rut is here.

“Where are you?” He wonders aloud, and a bolt of thrill zips up your spine at the thought of this game you have the chance to play. Hunter and prey. How he’s going to sniff you out like the depraved man he is, capture you and bend you over this pile of goods to take you long and hard and hot, just the way you both need. You know that within minutes you’ll be succumbing to the full effects of your heat, your body attuned so beautifully to his rut.

You eagerly await your mate's arrival.

You can hear it the moment he catches a whiff of your scent. The low growl has you clenching your thighs, sending your heartbeat galloping. What follows is what makes you want to moan, to give your spot away to him, to bare yourself to your alpha and have him claim you over and over and over again.

The bite mark on your throat pulses as the sound of his belt hits the floor, his weapons soon following. The dull thud of their sheaths are each a throb to your clit. You don’t need to imagine how perfect his body moves as he prowls closer to the door, already knowing that each muscle of his is coiled tight with the same anticipation you’re feeling. It zips down the bond, flooding your body with a pleasurable feeling. 

The closet door cracks wider and you only get a glimpse of those hazel eyes—all pupils with the untamed actions of a rut—before he lunges inside.

It’s tight with the both of you in here. Cassian’s fingers claw at your clothes, and it’s not a tear that can be sewed up like new to be worn another day. No, this is Cassian shredding your clothes into strips, buttons flying off of fabric and clicking against the walls. It’s the delicate lace of your panties he tears off with his teeth, wrapping the remnants around his wrist like he’s won himself a new bracelet. You love that he’s so desperate for you, but he’s being careless, dislodging items in your nest that were perfectly built while he scrambles to expose your body, more than ready to ravage you for this week-long cycle. 

You cry out at the feeling of Cassian’s sharp teeth nipping at your shoulder when you try to shove him off. You’re all too aware of how he’s displacing your pristine nest, the one you hadn’t hardly wanted him in in the first place because of this very reason.

He always destroys it.

“Cassian!” You shout, and only then does it seem to cut through the haze he’s already giving into. He pulls back quicker than an asp, fear a dark ring around his eyes as he stares down at you.

“Did I hurt you, mate?” He questions, frantically looking you over. His fingers trace your skin and your body buzzes in response. But as you look at your nest, now a mere mess of twisted blankets and skewed knick-knacks, your heart plummets and your brows draw together, your eyes prickling with tears.

“No, you didn’t hurt me physically,” you say, throat tight. Cassian frowns, not quite understanding until you gesture to the mess around you. “I know what it’s like to submit to the rut grating through your bones right now,” you speak quietly, enough for him to grasp your feelings. “But you wreck my nest every time you have a rut. Even during my heats. A burrow that is sacred to me, and should be to you too. It’s one of the only places I feel safe—” The other being in his arms.  “—When I’m going through a heat. And I want you there, mate, I need you there, but not if you’re going to ruin my hard work.”

You watch the regret lance his eyes, but before he can say anything, you’re continuing, fighting through the wetness coating your throat, ignoring the wetness coating your thighs.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Cassian leans forward, caressing your cheek. You allow it, lean into it even, but you will not continue with this rut until you feel fully at peace and comfortable to do so. “Please, what can I do?”

“Fix it,” you murmur, almost helplessly. There’s a hollowness to your chest that may be heightened by the effects of your oncoming heat, but right now it feels like you’ve lost something greater than a pile of blankets. You’d feel embarrassed, almost, if you were more clear-minded. “You won’t be fucking me in here until you’re not a threat to its structural integrity.” 

You watch Cassian’s throat bob, his cock twitch at your demands, a pretty pearl of precum making its presence known. You quirk an eyebrow, trying very carefully to keep your face stern, shoving back the teary sensations as you tear your gaze from the sight of his leaking cock.

He likes it when you make demands of him? 

You tuck that thought away for later.

“Of course,” Cassian agrees vehemently, already reaching for the first blanket.

You shuffle out of the way. It’s difficult in the space of the closet, now that you’re trapped inside with your behemoth of an alpha who trapezes around as he begins his work. The air is hot and thick already, your forehead is dewey with sweat. You might be regretting building your nest in the closet sooner rather than later. 

You find yourself wondering if you can convince Cassian to move the entire nest later, if he’ll make it just as perfect as this one.

“And Cassian?” You ask, waiting for him to turn. When you have his full attention, you allow your fingers to drift up your bare stomach to your peaked nipples, pinching and rubbing at them. Cassian growls in response and your cunt clenches at the sound. You nearly tell him to forget it and take you up against the racks of clothes instead. “For every item you perfectly fix, is the number of times we’re going to cum together.”

It’s a futile promise at best. Once the both of you succumb to your respective heat and rut, there will be no counting. There won’t be anything but the primal urge to fuck and breed, the both of you cumming more times than you could even imagine. There have been times when the lust was so consuming, you hardly remember anything besides the pleasure Cassian stoked into you, pumping you so full of his seed your stomach bloated with it. How he fucked you on his knot again and again until he fucked himself into a blacking out.

Your mate growls and nods eagerly. The breath whooshes out of his chest as he turns away, snatching a pillow that had fallen from the pile. You know that he’ll never get your nest back to how you had it, that he hadn’t taken a single glance at your work before crashing into it like a bull in a china shop, but you’re more distracted by the curve of that toned ass on display, his cock hanging heavy between those glorious thighs, dragging over one of the blankets and leaving a line of precum in its wake. You watch, entranced by his strong shoulders and wings, how they glide under his tan skin like butter.

“A little to the left,” you advise when Cassian turns to look at you after placing a discarded sheath in place, an expectant look on his face. You bite your lip to hold in the delightful purr that rages in your veins as he follows your command.

“Like this?”

“Perfect, mate,” you agree, taking one step closer. Your fingers smooth down your body, dipping between your legs because with the way he’s perched on his knees for you, you need some sort of stimulation or you’re going to pounce on him. Cassian’s eyes zero in on the movement, iris’ consumed by the black of his pupil. His nostrils flare at the scent leaking from your thighs.

Cassian begins to work even faster.

“Cassian?” You question when your body plunges right over the edge into want. Your heat slams into you full force, and all you crave is to be laid in that nest of yours, built by both of your hands, and give yourself to your alpha.

He hums, peeking over at you. He’s almost done, almost has it perfect, and then he’s going to be mounting you so fast that you won’t even know what hit you. His cock is leaking all over your nest, eager for your cunt to bury itself home in. All he can think about is how he hopes you don’t mind the mess he’s leaving behind while trying to clean up his other one. 

Every muscle in his body reacts to the scent that’s emanating from you. His cock is thick and hard, swollen and ready. He’s going to knot you within the first two strokes, he can already feel it, can imagine the way your cunt will swallow him eagerly, milking him desperately, latching for a pup. He’ll make it up to you though, he can promise that, because Cassian has days and he can be a very inventive male when he wants to be.

When he blinks the haze from his eyes, pupils finally settling their attention on you, you breathe, “It’s great, alpha. But one thing is missing.” 

Cassian frowns, his thick brows pulling tight in confusion. “What’s that, love?”

“It’s missing me.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. You shriek at his speed, the strength that he uses, wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you back into the nest. 

You land with a breathless laugh that melts into a needy keen when Cassian splays your legs wide for him and licks a fat stripe up your cunt. You both shiver, you at the feeling of his wet tongue, and him at your taste.

“I won’t last,” he admits, but neither of you care when he pumps himself into you in one long stroke. Your body melts into the blankets and pillows beneath you, feeling so full. You could live like this forever, you think, Cassian’s cock buried deep inside of you, the warmth it provides, the pleasure, it’s all too much.

“Me…neither,” you pant, crying out when he hits your cervix. Fuck, he’s going to put a pup in you by the end of the week. Maybe a whole litter. You can feel it this time. “Fuck, Cassian! You feel so good!”

“You feel like heaven, mate,” he growls back. His breath is hot on your throat, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. It lights your body up like a star and your eyes roll into the back of your head, nails scratching down his back as the feeling builds. “You are my heaven. The stars in my sky and the breath in my lungs. You’re—fuck,” he chokes, quickening his thrusts. “You’re fucking mine.”

Cassian’s fingers slide between your bodies as he slams his mouth against yours. He’s devouring you in more ways than one, and when he starts circling his fingers against your throbbing clit—not too hard and not too soft, just fucking perfect like he always does, even when he’s lost in the throes of his heat—you cum.

You gush, even, and then Cassian’s cumming too, releasing with a growl that shakes the house built into the mountain. You wouldn’t be surprised if the noise causes a landslide.

He pulses inside of you, thick, hot ribbons of cum filling you. His knot grows with each pump, with each spurt, until you’re whimpering with overstimulation, writhing against his body. Cassian doesn’t let up, he’s still going, grinding down on you until there are tears in your eyes, until his incessant rubbing onto your clit turns from sensitive to all out wanting again. You chase that orgasm, jerking your hips against his until you’re drowning in the sensations of it again, until you’re drowning in the feeling of his cum stuffing you full.

Cassian watches you with rapt attention. Waits until you’ve calmed. Opened those pretty eyes. Then, does he cradle you in his arms and roll onto his back, letting you rest against his chest to catch your breath. He wipes the hair from your face, brushes the dampness across your forehead and kisses it tenderly, before dipping down to capture your lips sweetly. This is only the first of the orgasms you’ll both share, and it might not have lasted long, but it rocked your world entirely.

You blink up at him sleepily, moan a little when you feel his cock throb with another squirt of cum. 

“Rest now, mate,” he says gently, and the rumble of his voice is a lullaby all its own. “I’ll be keeping you up for many nights to come.”

[zweetpea]

so please imagine if you will…

CW: Babies

Imagine You and Gojo as teens. Him being a total player and you being his “innocent” chaotic junior by a year.

Imagine you’ve got a bit of a rivalry going on. Him with all his... stuff... and you with... let's say with a Nullifying cursed Technique.

Imagine you guys grew up together. You always had an edge on him in a fight up until he unlocked his reversed curse technique during his second year at Jujustu Tech.

Imagine that somewhere in your studies you and Gojo had a heart to heart about your futures. It's late... maybe you guys are pulling an all-nighter. He reveals in a moment of what he perceived as weakness his insecurities being the next head of the Gojo clan brought him. How he didn't feel like he'd ever fall in love. How he knew felt like the higher ups would push an arranged marriage onto him. How he was scared that he wouldn't be a good husband or father. And his biggest fear that any child he did bring into this world would have to face the same hardships he did only without the six eyes to back it up. How he felt guilty for taking that opportunity away from them.

Imagine shifting his head onto your lap in that moment and proposing a deal to him. If you both were single by the time you hit 25 you'd marry each other. That way he wouldn't have to worry about whether or not he'd be a good partner. Or how strong his kids could be. Or what kind of woman the higher ups would try to force him to be with.

Imagine after that day he never went on another date for a decade. waiting for the day you'd get married and he could finally have babies with you to keep the Gojo legacy alive.

Imagine him sabotaging any dates you get over the next decade. Being jealous and possessive of you in front of any guys who might find you attractive. (In his mind it's all of them)

Imagine him never telling you any of this You probably already know

Imagine after a while you move away to pursue a career somewhere else because of how clingy and obsessive Gojo has gotten. Completely forgetting about the promise you made and coincidentally not being able to pursue a real relationship because of being a sorcerer.

Imagine on your 25th birthday you get a text from a random number asking you a bunch of strange questions. "Red velvet's still your favorite cake flavor right?" "Is royal blue and rose gold tacky?" "Is rose gold still your favorite color?" "Out of these options which dress is your favorite?" They're all very short cocktail wedding dressed.

Imagine obviously ignoring this stalker. Going about your day. Maybe getting a few drinks with some friends after their work days were over. And when you uber home a bit tipsy you find someone waiting for you in your living room.

"Sweetheart! You're home! And you're wasted!" Gojo held you and kissed your temple. "Come on let's get you cleaned up and get you to bed."

"Gojo? I'm not drunk I'm just a bit buzzed. How and why are you here?"

"Come on, babe. Call me Satoru! I'm here to celebrate your birthday and our engagement!"

"Huh?"

Imagine how sweet he could be as he picks you up in a princess carry and takes you to the bathroom. Carefully getting you cleaned up and reminding you about your deal, and of course asking if you got his texts. You merely laugh and kiss his cheek.

Imagine how the next morning you wake up and roll over in bed only to come face to chest with him.

"How'd you get in my bed?" You'd smile at him.

"I carried my lovely wife here last night, after she got drunk off her ass."

"I thought I told you to sleep on the couch."

"I was lonely." He'd whine and press his cheek against the top of your head.

Imagine how he'd take care of most of the wedding preparations. (except the dress cause ain't no way you bout to look like some hooker barbie on your big day) And him giving you his mother's wedding ring. Just the two of you and a few close friends having a small, intimate ceremony.

Imagine "Forgetting" to tell the higher ups about the union so they call him in to have a meeting with him telling him that they've selected a woman to be his wife. He laughs in their faces as he pulls out his phone and pulls up a photo of you pregnant with his baby.

Imagine his smirk when they all start to freak out and protest. And oh boy...

Imagine how that smirk falls when one of them suggests that the baby isn't his...

Imagine him coming home all bloody. His smile as wide as ever as he informs you that "It's not mine" or his rather. And how you just hand him some new clothes and push him towards the shower.

Imagine how thrilled he is when he finally gets to hold his baby in his arms. The silent vindication he feels seeing as the baby looks exactly like him.

"I spend 12 hours squeezing you out of my body and you have the audacity to look like your father. You really are a Gojo."

Just please Imagine it all for me if you will

[wanda-widow]

Dirty Little Secret

Bucky x Pole Dancer!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Bucky's a sweetheart, but like everyone else, he's also got something to hide. And no one would expect the famed White Wolf to spend his evening as a strip club with a pretty thing he calls his. 

18+ MDNI

Warnings: smut, jealous Bucky, oral (f receiving), light threat, choking kink, swearing, pussy slapping (once), light/no aftercare, light fluff near the end, no use of (Y/N)

Like and reblog if you want, thank you sm for the love on my last post <3

Everyone's taken Bucky as a gentleman, especially after the takedown of the Flag Smashers. His reputation's free of red, amends made, the biggest sweetheart. The biggest sweetheart with the dirtiest secret. 

Over 70 years with no sex has got him pent up, needing release. Sure, his fist can get him off but it doesn't compare to the feeling of a warm body under his. It doesn't matter if he's giving or receiving the pleasure, he just needs sex in any form. 

There's a small but well known strip club located in the heart of Brooklyn, Bucky's favorite place on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, along with weekends. His pocket is always well loaded with cash, especially with the money the government is funding him as an apology for what HYDRA put him through. 

But that's in the past and you, you are the present and future. You, who works Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, along with weekends. His favorite dancer and his favorite hookup. 

This Friday night is no different as he steps foot in the pounding club, eyes scanning the sweaty crowd until they land on you, just finishing your routine on stage. You're dressed in a skimpy red piece that barely leaves anything to the imagination, knee high heels adding to the appeal. His eyes rake over your body, darkening at the various bills stuffed wherever the hands could reach. Bills that should be his. Hands that should be his. 

You can practically feel his glare, eyes flitting up to meet his, calculating his expression. With a barely perceptible jerk of his head, you already know to follow him to one of the private rooms. Quickly blowing your kisses, you hurry off stage just in time to see Bucky slap a couple bills into someone's hand before they let him into the dim room, leaving the door open for you. 

The moment you step foot in the room, the door slams shut behind you and you can feel him behind you, radiating anger and something else. Jealousy. 

"I thought I told you to wait for me" he growled into your ear, vibranium fist clenching against the wall. His other hand comes to rest on your waist, a mockery of affection before whatever comes next. 

"I did but you didn't come on time" you shrugged, the excuse sounding lame to even you. "I needed the money, you know that" 

"I said I would pay you extra for your time" he retorted, plucking the bills out from your bra one by one before tossing them somewhere in the room. You barely get the chance to open your mouth to respond when you feel a cold metal hand spin you around and wrap around your throat, just barely applying pressure. 

"Since you didn't wait, I don't see a point in paying you extra" he breathed out, thumb sliding up to tilt your chin up, his lips ghosting over yours. His arousal is evident against your thigh, your body shifting instinctively so he's nestled right against your core. 

"I'll give you better service for more money" you offered, already sinking to your knees for him. Truth is, if you didn't need the money so desperately, you'd do anything for free for this man. 

Bucky almost caved but shook his head, tugging you back up. "I don't have time" he muttered, frustrated as he checked his watch before spotting the loveseat in the corner of the room. Leading you there, he tugged you into his lap, lips meeting your eagerly as you melted into his hold. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip before you parted your lips, tongues sliding deliciously. 

You were already grinding against him on instinct when he gripped your hips to stop you. 

"Get on your back" he muttered, already doing the act for you as he flipped your positions and then settled on the floor to be face to face with your soaked panties. 

"Already so wet for me... or is this from all those other men giving you money, hm? You don't need anything from me anymore, might as well make this our last session" he taunted,  his metal hand sliding up your thigh teasingly, goosebumps following in his trail.  

"No, no... no, no just you. Only you get me soaked" you whined, missing the way he smirked at your desperate words. 

He let out a hum before carefully sliding your panties down your legs, tucking them in his back pocket as he spread your thighs wider. You clenched around nothing in anticipation, letting out a quiet gasp when he ran a finger up your slit, gathering your slick. 

"So pretty..." he murmured, glancing at you as he kissed up your inner thighs. "So perfect" 

You squirmed, almost about to beg for him to touch you when he ran his tongue through your folds, a moan tumbling past your lips as your hips canted up. 

"Such a pretty pussy for a pretty girl" he smirked, tongue doing circles on your clit before he took it between his lips and sucked lightly. 

"B-Bucky- ah... need more..." you moaned, fingers fisting in his hair, lips set into a pout. 

"I don't think you deserve it" he chided, his flesh hand sliding under your back to pull you closer to him. "You're lucky I'm fond of you"

He slipped two metal fingers into you, curling them so they hit your sweet spot that he knew so well. His tongue worked quickly over your clit, flicking back and forth, his fingers pumping with the obscene shlick shlick shlick, already building you towards your orgasm. 

"Are you gonna wait for me tomorrow instead of throwing yourself on stage for the world to see?" he asked, purposely slowing his fingers as you whined from the fading pleasure. His thumb pressed down on your clit, your hips bucking up into the pressure.

"Yes, yes I'll wait for you" you cried out when his flesh hand came down on your clit. 

"Good girl" he growled before his mouth attached back onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers slipped back into your pussy, curling and pumping eagerly, your walls starting to flutter around him from the building pleasure. 

One last swipe of his tongue on your clit had you unraveling, his eyes watching as your back arched off the couch, legs shaking and clamping around his head as his fingers worked you through your high. The cries of his name falling from your lips mixed in with curses and moans were heavenly. He tucked the sounds away to memory, his cock throbbing against his jeans but he could take care of that problem later. 

He drew gentle circles on your clit, huffing softly when your body jerked in response to the overstimulation. You felt a couple bills flutter down onto your flushed skin, not bothering to count them when you felt him lean down next to your ear. 

"If you're really worried about money, just tell me. I can cover it, doll" he said softly, brushing some hair out of your face before leaving a quick kiss on your lips. 

You nodded, shifting so that you were sitting up on the couch, noticing that the bills littering your skin were hundreds. 

"If you forget our agreement tomorrow, consider your orgasms also forgotten" he said casually before the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you dazed and always, always wanting more. 

Part 2

[xveenusx]

Indifference

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people who are in love, well he used to be

Authors note: you guys like when I make you cry

Rating: angsty

Warnings: it'll hurt :)

__________________

He was late.

Time was a funny thing. Minutes turned to hours which rolled into days then suddenly months began to blur into years. In that time, people tend to go out and experience things, falling in and out of love, enjoying everything life had to offer.

Yet, I somehow found myself motionless, the spark that once ignited my core had been stifled to a small ember. Life continued to pass by while I remained glued in one place, watching as everyone around me attempted to achieve some form of happiness.

I was once like that. Filled with some much hope for a life with someone I loved, who showed up to support me and believed in my capability, because at one time in my life that was exactly what Rafe was.

Like I said, time was a funny thing. The more time passes with your partner, the more comfortable they seem to get. They stop trying. However, at what point does being comfortable become almost negligent?

Dates were canceled, appointments missed, and important accomplishments forgotten the more time went on. Rafe’s priorities shifted and I went from being the center of his world to being a planet merely circling his gravitational pull.

In his mind, we were forever, so a couple of cancellations here and there and bouts of forgetfulness were nothing in the span of things. I would have agreed had the cancellations not doubled with time or our conversations going from intimate and deep to surface level at best.

He was never home. It was always just me in this large house on figure 8.  Suddenly, he went from being the moon and the stars to just a bleak, unforgivable starless night. Cold and dark.

We had met when we were 16 and he was every bit a spoiled little rich boy that had extreme daddy issues, but there was more to him than that. I picked at his defenses until finally they shattered, and I was engulfed by all of him.

He was just different around me and that fact alone left me delighted. It made me feel special, almost stupidly so.

Things between Rafe and his father were already tense enough since Rafe bought a motorbike with the money he was supposed to spend on the generator. Then everything began to snowball out of control from there. He threw himself into his father’s work and when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Kells and Topper doing god knows what and snorting anything he could find.

Despite all of this, Rafe always kept me close and always let me in. 

Last year, when Ward had gone with Sarah and John B to South America, and didn’t return, something shifted inside him. His defenses were rebuilt, only this time he left me on the outside, and no matter how hard I tried to break him down brick by brick, nothing worked. He became obsessed with running Ward’s real estate empire better than he ever did.

Rafe was a cold and calculated legacy with a large chip on his shoulder that made him lethal against competing firms. He chewed them up and spit them out.

With every major milestone, it was never enough for him, and like a man possessed he continued to ruthlessly target anyone that had done him wrong. We had everything and yet the bitterness seemed to consume him. He was someone I saw once a day if I was lucky. He always left before I woke up and was never home by the time I went to bed and suddenly we were glorified roommates.

Once upon a time, I would stay up waiting for him with my heart in my hand, hoping to connect in any way. Even if I only had a few minutes to spend with him before he went to sleep, it was enough for me. But, 10 pm became 11 pm which turned into 12 am and so I gave up. My sleep schedule was already a mess as thoughts and insecurities pestered my mind of another woman.

“Any word from him yet? Some of the donors are asking for him?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to face my assistant, Rai.

Her question is innocent enough, but I can hear the slight concern in her voice and I know she has her doubts which only serves as another humiliating reminder that Rafe has done this to me repeatedly.

But this was different. He knew how important this charity dinner was to the shelter I opened up for women and children who suffered from domestic violence.

As someone who came from the cut, it was everywhere and so many didn’t have the means to flee and so they were forced to stay and in the most severe instances, die.

Rafe gave me the start-up money as a gift and it was a huge success that I opened several more as well as fund for scholarships for both the mothers and kids. Which is what brings me to now, a charity dinner and auction to help fund said scholarships and pay for all the shelter necessities.

He promised he would be here. It’s important for the donors to see him here seeing as though he donated a huge sum once more and could ease the minds of those who are teetering on the edge. It’s also important to me. This project is mine, something I created and shared with the world and I want to share it with him too.

I want him to celebrate this accomplishment with me and he is nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be here. Rafe promised.” I clear my throat, “He knows how important this is to me.”

Rai gave me a doubtful look and I know that I couldn’t convince her anymore than I could convince myself. The engagement ring that bore my finger instantly weighed a ton.

Glancing down at the large diamond that once meant the promise of everything, stared back at me as nothing more than a simple accessory.

Rafe had proposed and foolishly I believed that it would save us so I said yes.

I stayed and time and time again, the disappointment slowly began to etch away at the childish hope I tried to cling onto until only a dull ache remained.

“Don’t you look lovely?” Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I let out a sheepish laugh as I take in Kiara’s parents. 

“Thank you guys so much for coming.” The words ring true but I couldn’t help but feel like I was underwater. My focus is shot and I find myself hardly listening with my eyes darting to the front door every minute or so, desperate to see the man I used to think would never stop loving me. 

I float around the room, committed to being a gracious host, because I would not let him take this from me too. Not when he’s taken everything else already. This is the only piece left of me. 

My cheeks hurt two hours later from all the fake smiles and my throat burns from the feigned laughing. The sound of my own voice makes me wince. 

In those two hours, I felt my confidence slowly get chipped piece by piece as everyone questioned where my fiancé was. And for a moment, I hated him. I truly hated him because even this small piece of heaven I made for myself is tied into him. 

Honey, I need to run some numbers with Rafe. Where is he hiding? 

Where is the biggest investor? Surely, he’s here, right?

I haven't seen Mr. Cameron. Has he stepped out? 

With which I responded,” Work emergency, you know how it is. He’s nothing if not committed.” Considering most of these possible donors run their own large companies, they completely understand but it’s their partners reactions that seem to leave me stunned. 

Each had a warm look of understanding dancing in their eyes as I’m sure they’ve used the same excuse time and time again.

I can only take so much. So I excuse myself and glance at the small gold heart shaped watch on my delicate wrist and take note of the time.

There was only 30 minutes left and I haven't gotten so much as a text from him. 

A pit began to form where my stomach used to be as I realized once more that he wasn’t coming. As I stood in a packed room, filled with a flurry of activity, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

Then my eyes connect with Mrs. Dune, the wife of a finance guru that works alongside Rafe. She was much older than I, having been with her husband for 30 years but she looked even older. 

It’s almost as though she can read my thoughts, because she sends me a sad smile as she lets her eyes go to where her husband stands talking to other donors. I haven't seen him talk to her the whole night, instead she’s been standing at his side saying nothing. 

I take an uneven breath and my eyes widen in realization. Was this what I had to look forward to? A life sentence of loneliness vacant of any warmth and attention? 

Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away and stare at the door. Begging whoever will listen to please, this once, let me be wrong. I’m so in my thoughts that I’m startled when a soft hand lands on my arm.

“You get used to it. Eventually, you’ll feel nothing.” Mrs. Dune says quietly, her eyes moving back to her husband, with a look I can only describe as longing. 

That’s the thing. I don't want to get used to it. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“What you’ve accomplished is amazing. Don’t let him take that away from you.” Was her parting words and she left, not sparing her husband another glance. 

When I turn to see if he noticed she left, he’s still engaged in conversations and doesn’t spare her a glance. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is Amy Park.” Rai looks ecstatic as she introduces me to the stunning tall woman next to her. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Park.” The words come out on instinct.

“I wanted to discuss how open you would be to expanding shelters nationwide?”

And for the first time in awhile, a real smile graces my face as I answer her question. 

_____________________

The first thing I notice when I pull into our driveway is the plethora of cars that fill it. The second thing I pick up on is familiar vibrations of music with each step I take along our pathway. 

My front door is wide open as people come in and out, clearly under the influence of something and my chest constricts. 

This is what he’s been doing? This was more important than me? 

Clutching my keys tightly, I welcome the familiar biting against my skin. I recognize many of the faces, most of them having gone to school with Rafe. 

If it was any other night, I would have joined them. We were only 22 and yet have lived what seems to be a hundred lives. But, this is different. He’s different. 

Climbing up the staircase, I head to the balcony where I hear a familiar boast of laughter. 

I cleared my throat. “What’s so funny?”

Heads snap in my direction but my eyes are only on one. One that currently has a short black haired girl nearly in his lap. I recognize her as a bartender at one of the local grills/bars we frequent. 

“Don’t you look gorgeous-“ Topper attempts to run interference, but it’s too late. I raise my hand to silence him. I’ve already seen everything I needed too. 

His body is positioned slightly in front of them as if I was going to body slam them. I might actually. 

“Hey, wait! How did the donor dinner go?” Topper's eyes dart to Rafe’s. “That was tonight right?”

I see the moment everything clicks. His eyes rake down from my newly styled hair to the louboutins in my feet. Everything I wore from the jewelry on my body to the shoes on my feet he bought me, and I’ve never felt more sick.

Rafe clenches his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

He throws a worried glance to Rafe. “I think maybe-“

“Top, give us a second.” Rafe mutters tensely. He keeps his hard set gaze on me, drilling into me, almost as though he’s daring me to move. 

Kelce stands up giving me an apologetic look. “Rafe, man, there’s a bunch of people here.”

I force myself to look away. 

“Not right now, Kells.” 

He wasn’t wrong. This house was full of people, but the only difference being that none of them matter. Not to me and not to Rafe. 

Steady. Keep steady and just breathe. 

“So what should I do-“

I look at him. Me or them? It was unsaid but he knew what I was asking him. 

“Back the fuck off and give me a fucking second with my girl.” Rafe barks out, running a rough hand through the short cropped strands that brush against his forehead. 

Both hold their hands up in mock surrender before shuffling off to the side. The girl doesn’t get up. 

Topper coughs. “Sophia.” 

Her eyes take me in with clear distaste. Her hand is still dangerously close to Rafe’s waistband. I raise a single eyebrow giving her one last opportunity to move. 

She doesn’t. Not when Kelce calls out for her either.

Sophia made her bed. Setting my bag down, I take three big steps before I’m roughly shoving her off the couch sending her sprawling on the floor. 

Rafe let’s out a curse but makes no move to help her. At least he’s not stupid.

“Get out.” The words leave no room for negotiation.

The glare she sends me is filled with ice. “I was invited.”

Kelce lets out a groan before whispering,”Is she serious?”

The fake smile I’ve perfected over the years decorated my face as I bent down to her height on the floor. 

Flashing my engagement ring in her face. “Get out of my fucking house.”

That seems to shut her up and I watch with narrowed eyes as she struts away, Topper and Kelce in tow.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears while my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I turn around slowly to face my damnation. 

My heels click against the marble floor and with each step I take, the more the ache in my chest grows. Marching up to Rafe, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. Those familiar glacial blue eyes are red. His pupils are blown wide and my chest cracks wide open. 

He’s high. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

This is what he wanted to do instead of being there for me. Instead of supporting me. Instead of loving me. 

Dying would be less painful.

 I stare directly into those eyes, searching for an answer, wondering when the love he felt for me slowly became indifference.

I’d almost rather there be a mistress rather than this cold indifference.

“Did you have fun at least?” My words are soft but the intention is anything but. 

He says nothing. Instead Rafe studies me like I’m a wounded animal. 

Dark. Beautiful. Cruel. 

Those are the words I’d use to describe the man in front of me. The gaze that once felt like a soft caress on my skin now felt clinical. 

“It seems like you’re having fun.” I quip, flicking the small bag filled with familiar white powder. 

I thought I could fix him. I will not make that mistake again.

“I completely forgot-“

“How?” I ask. 

His eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “Work got insanely busy. You know how it is. Even if I own the place, I’m young and the older guys don’t respect me.”

“It was in your work calendar.” 

“No, it wasn’t-“

“It was also on your personal calendar and our joint one. I had your assistant send you a reminder email. So my question is how?” My voice wobbled and it was only by a small miracle that I didn’t throw something in his face. “How did you forget the only thing I’ve asked you for?” 

Something flickered in his eyes. “It wasn’t intentional. It slipped my mind.”

“Something I worked so hard to accomplish just slipped your mind?” Exhaustion has finally got the better of me and I finally let him see just how much he’s managed to chip away. 

“I should have been there for you and I’m so sorry,” His throat flexed a hard swallow. “But there will be other dinners.” 

The dull ache in my chest thrummed harder. Rafe was brushing this off, just like he always did. My skin flushed. 

At my silence, he braces his elbows on his knees and leans forward, tracking my every move. “I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

“No, I understand you just fine. It just wasn’t important enough for you.”

He stilled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Of course it wasn’t what he meant but he’s managed to make me feel so insignificant. So small. 

“I know that you’ve canceled most of our dates for work. Even an anniversary once. I know that you missed the grand opening of the shelter that I spent a year and half planning.” I force the words out, each breath I take feeling like needles. “I asked for this one thing, Rafe and you couldn’t even give me that.” 

“What about everything I have given you? This house, the car you drive in, the clothes on your back, the boat?”

It’s like I’m staring at 16 year old Rafe again. To him, material things were the equivalent to love. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I find that I was much happier when I had little to nothing, than I am now, sitting here with everything, in my gown and jewels. 

“I didn't ask for any of those things.” By the stubborn gleam in his eyes, I knew he was going to fight me on everything. 

Lately, his tactic was always combative and it was easier to give in or to not say anything at all. 

 “No, but you took them all the same. I fucked up, I get that. I know what this shelter means to you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for me.”

A familiar buzzing filled my ears. His words were ugly but they weren’t a lie. Even my project was his. I had nothing of my own.

I wonder how many other people came to the same revelation. Maybe that’s why so many of them asked where he was? Because this accomplishment wasn’t mine, no clearly it was his.

There is not enough room in my chest for the ache he caused. 

Words can’t seem to make it to my lips. I think my brain has finally broken and realizes that no words I say will get him to change. 

Smoothing out my dress, I stand on shaky legs before kicking off my heels. He can keep them. With that, I leave him out on the porch and make a beeline towards our his room. 

Opening the closet doors, I reach for the suitcase before setting it on the bed. I wasn’t going to be like Mrs. Dune and waste away beside a man that used to love me, hoping that one day he will once more. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words are hard and low. 

Rafe stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is brewing with several emotions I can't quite place. 

It was funny. I haven't seen this much emotion from him in months.

I ignore him and toss some clothes from my dresser into the open suitcase, making sure to grab only the clothes I needed.

I slowly take off each piece of jewelry and set it on my vanity. He can keep everything he so gloriously mentioned he bought. 

“You loved me once.” I state, tilting my head to the side. I rake over every detail of his face, knowing I’ll never forget it. 

I loved him once too. 

His face morphed to one of confusion before disbelief. “I still love you. That’s never changed.” 

I shake my head. “Yes, it has.”

Rafe stalks towards me, his hand reaching to burl around my neck while the other pulls me to him by my waist. Familiar cologne fills my lungs and I count to ten mentally. It was the same cologne I bought him when we first started dating. 

“I work too much, I know. That’s my fault and I’ll cut back. I’ll be home more and we can spend time together. I’ll do better.” Taking my chin between two fingers, he forces my eyes to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes but I know how this goes. 

The same way it’s gone the last two times. He’ll beg me to stay, promise to change, and things will be good for a month before he slowly starts missing dates or canceling trips we’ve planned months before. Then the cycle repeats. 

“No.” It was time to love myself. Since he clearly couldn’t do it. I will not allow myself to get lost in him again. 

“Baby, just wait. Will you wait-“ He huffs as I try to move around him. No such success as his towering body has me moving back and suddenly I’m caged in by his arms. “Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ve given you years. I won’t give you another second.” 

“Talk to me.” His voice breaks. “Please just talk to me.”

Longing filled my body. Words I’ve been waiting to hear for months come so easily to him, but only when I already have one foot out the door.

 “I’m alone.” The words come out strangled. “ I’m alone in this. I have been for a long time.”

“What do you mean? Baby, I’m right here.” Rafe’s gripping onto me tighter, almost like he’s ensuring I don’t leave. “I’m right here.”

“You're never here. That’s exactly my point.” 

Rafe’s eyes widen before he shakes his head wildly, staring at me like I’m speaking another language. “That’s not true-“

“What’s today?”

“What?” 

“What’s today?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving his. I want to see every emotion that storms in his eyes, just to remind myself that he is capable of emotion after all. 

“Friday.” 

I smile at him sadly. Exactly my point. “I haven't seen you since Tuesday.” 

“No, that can’t be right. I was with you when we had lunch with-“ He breaks off, reaching for his phone in his pocket. I watch as he pulls up his calendar, an action that mortifies me, and confirms our scheduled date.

 “Tuesday.” He whispers, shocked even. 

I wasn’t. Rafe had to check his calendar to confirm that last time he’s seen his fiancé. 

“You used to come bring me lunch. If you were more than a couple hours, you always found your way to me or gave me a call that you’ll be late.” I shrugged, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Now, I don’t think I’d get a call if you were in the hospital.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies.

 “You didn’t tell me any of this. None of how you were feeling and you're ready to walk out the door without so much as an argument.” A spark of my old Rafe appears as frustration dances across his face.

“I should have-“

“You’re giving up.” He states, shaking his head in anger. 

Maybe I was. “I’m tired of fighting for us. You gave up a long time ago.” 

Large hands curl around my cheeks, pulling me towards his face. Rafe rests his forehead on mine, his piercing blue eyes darting across my face in panic. 

“I love you. I love you.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but we feel like strangers now. The words don’t feel like they used to. “You know I love you.”

 “This isn’t how I want to be loved, Rafe. I see you every couple days, the only time we’re ever together is when we have sex.” We lost sight of how we once were. The only thing that remained good between us was sex. 

That alone isn’t healthy. He goes to open his mouth but I cut him off.

“We never talk and when we do, you don’t even listen to me. Your brain is always somewhere else.” 

“I’m in a relationship with a ghost. I’m not letting you suck the life out of me anymore.” My eyes catch the sparkling ring that once brought me such happiness. Now, it simply feels like a ball and chain. 

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I start to tug it off my finger when Rafe truly begins to panic. 

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” I try to hand it to him but Rafe jolts back like he’s been burned. The look he gives my empty hand is nothing short of destroyed.

I think I’m going to throw up. His words are laced with raw grief that makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Put it back on.” I hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“No.” My lips wobble. 

“Please put it back on because if you don’t that means we’re over. That’s not us. We aren’t supposed to end.”

“Rafe, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“You’re ripping my fucking heart out of my chest. This isn’t anywhere near hard, it’s excruciating.” Rafe’s hand is notably shaking, but he tries to hide it by clenching and unclenching his palms. 

“Welcome to the last year of my life.” The words are brutal but he needs to hear them. 

“You promised me we’d never end.” 

“You promised to change. I guess we both lied.”

Rafe raises his voice, his arms thrown up in the air in clear distress, “How can you just stand there?”

It was a miracle I haven’t collapsed on my shaky legs yet. The adrenaline pumping though my veins was the only thing getting me through this torture. “Rafe, stop it.”

“You talk about indifference?” Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head up at the ceiling. “Who’s heartless now, baby?”

“You don’t get to put this on me. I’ve given you years of my life, showered you with nothing but love and support. I asked for one night, one fucking night, in your busy schedule and you didn’t bother to show up, or send a simple text.” I intake a sharp breath, pushing the hair out of my face with a shaky hand. “Instead, you threw a party in our home and got high.”

I point a finger at his chest, staring at him with open heartbreak. “I needed you,” The tightness in my chest finally pops as I choke on a loud sob, “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“I lost sight of what’s important to me. I’m just trying to give you everything-” I cut him off. 

Grabbing the clothes I haphazardly tossed in the suitcase, ”You want this? Take it,” I shove them into his chest, “Take all of it. I don’t want it. I’d give this all away in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back.”

I meant every word. I wanted my best friend back, the person I confided in and depended on. I wanted our late nights back watching trashy reality TV. We used to sit in the bathtub together basking in each other's company. Went on walks along the beach or took the boat out for hours, fucking on the deck, not caring that anyone could see. 

It used to be simple. He loved me and I loved him. 

“I’m angry, baby.I’m so damn angry all the time. At my fucking dad for always having these impossible expections. Then he goes and dies, leaving me without a clue on how to manage everything.” Rafe sags against the wall, exhaustion marring his features, his blue eyes pleading for me to understand. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.”

I had no idea this was how he was feeling. But, he never let me in. “You could have told me, we’re supposed to be partners in this. You asked me to marry you!”

I think deep down I know that he felt me slipping through his fingers at one point. He could see clearly how unhappy I’ve become and that’s why he proposed. And maybe just like him, I thought the proposal could fix us. This proposal was being manipulated on both ends, it was doomed from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken. 

“My head has basically been a war zone and I’m losing. The only thing keeping me sane is that I know, when I walk through that door,” he points to our bedroom door, “I’m going to find you in our bed. Every. Single. Night.” 

“I can’t let the ugly touch you.” My heart splits into two at his words. Words I know feel like acid leaving his mouth. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Then you should have taken better care of me. You should have let me take care of you.” 

“Fuck,” He screams, bending down and swiping the lamp clean of the nightstand. The lamp goes flying into the wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces and my eyes are drawn to them. I can’t help but think it reminds me of us.

Dragging my eyes back to his, I fight the urge to wrap him in my arms. Seeing him in pain has never brought me joy, but this was brutal. His eyes shined with unmistakable tears, realizing the strength of my resolve. 

There was no going back this time. There was no trying again. I didn’t have another try in me. 

I grip onto the fabric of my dress moving towards him, my heart pounding out of my chest. He moves instantly, holding out his hand to guide me over the shattered lamp. Why couldn’t he be like this months ago?

Why did he let it get this bad? Why couldn’t he love me?

Now, standing in front of him, I let myself one deep breath, basking in the comforting smell of him. A large hand curls around my neck, his grip strong and firm, demanding my attention. His blue eyes are daunting and so intense, I find myself fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m going to get you back.”

”Take it, Rafe.” I whisper, uncurling his limp hand, “Take it. It doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

Tears blur my vision as I fumble with the ring he refuses to take.

 Rafe shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “There’s no point in taking it off if it’s gonna go right back there in a couple weeks. ”

I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice. He sounds like the old Rafe and for a second I see a glimmer of who he used to be.

 He had me. Then he lost me. 

This is not how I want to be loved. 

“If spending the next few months without you means that I get to spend a lifetime with you, I can manage. I’ll do whatever I have to.  But don’t think for a second that there is anyone else on this entire fucking planet meant for you.”

That’s how I want to be loved. Too little too late.

I drop the ring.

[buckyalpine]

Bucky x civilian reader

JESSY REACHES 500

I wrote this for my most precious bb, @jessybarnes congratulations my angel, you deserve ALL the followers.

Warnings: angstttyy, Bucky's an idiot, fluffyy, friends with benefits to lovers, I hope your chest itches a lil.

Prompt: "I can't keep doing this, I can't keep giving you chances just for you to break my heart over and over again."

"Morning Doll" His husky voice stirred you awake, the cool tips of his fingers sending shivers down your spine as he traced up and down your bare back. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Bucky barely gave you a chance to respond, throwing the covers off, exposing you to the cool air of your bedroom as he rummaged around for his boxers which he'd tossed off haphazardly the night before.

"Alright" You mustered a smile as he pecked your head, seeing himself out and locking the door with the spare key you gave him. It would be weeks before you saw him again, going back to your regular schedule while he was off saving the world.

You had an interesting relationship with Bucky Barnes.

You'd met when he came to return a copy of the Hobbit at the library you worked at, tossing your a charming smirk before going to browse for more books. One night after a few more flirty comments and innocent touches later, you found yourself with your hands down each others pants, his lips smashed against yours to keep your moans down, the both of you hidden between the bookshelves.

He eventually started coming over to your place instead, exploring every bit of your body like he owned it, spending hours taking you both to new heights until he couldn't move. It was pure sex and the absolute best you'd ever had. Bucky made you forget your own name, only having the ability to moan and take everything he was giving you.

It was the perfect arrangement for him; something lowkey to help with the stress of his job without having to commit to much more. After you started to pick up more shifts at the library, you even gave his own key to your place to let himself in on days where you hadn't gotten home yet.

That was nearly a year ago.

You sighed, pulling the covers back over yourself, his scent still lingering on the sheets and pillow making your heart flutter, already waiting for the next time he'd be over. You hated the feeling, knowing your feelings were going further than what Bucky wanted. You hated every time he had to leave, the butterflies in your tummy fluttering wildly whenever he his name popped up on your phone.

Your heart would beat faster every time he kissed you, biting your tongue from telling him you didn't want him to go, you couldn't just be a person to keep his bed warm, you wanted more, you loved him-

Fuck.

You loved him.

You shook your head, ignoring the tightness that started to constrict your throat, feeling worse than the last time he'd left.

Why the fuck did you fall for him.

-

"Maybe we could go out?" You tried, hoping for once one of your rendezvous wouldn't be just sex. Bucky hummed, holding you closer to his bare chest, your bodies tangled under the sheets after he'd taken you apart, coming straight to your place as soon as he jet had landed.

"Sure, how about we grab coffee next time?" He mumbled, rutting his hips up, already hard again, rolling on top of you, peppering kisses down your neck before you could respond.

"Wait, Bu-oh god" Your words melted into moans as he made himself comfortable between your legs, neither of you brining up those plans again for the rest of the night. He stayed over as always, leaving before you stirred, the bed cold and empty when you woke up the next day to a text message from him.

Had to leave early, see you when I'm back x

You blinked, chewing your lip, debating on how to respond, a part of you still hoping he'd be open to spending time with you outside of just needing something physical.

Sure! Let's go to the cafe nearby? I've been dying to go

You typed and deleted the message 3 times before finally hitting send, tossing your phone aside, anxiety clouding your mind wondering how he'd respond.

Then he didn't.

You waited the entire week for him to respond to your message, the read at 6:03 staring you in the face, making your cheeks heat up from embarrassment, imagining the way he probably opened and closed the chat, forgetting your very existence until he had needs again.

Why did you even try.

You harshly wiped the tears that streaked down your face, chewing the inside of your cheek, freezing when the lock of your door turned, the familiar sound of his bag hitting the floor. You quickly splashed water onto your face, hiding any evidence of emotion when Bucky popped his head into your room, finding you in the bathroom.

"Hi doll" He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist, dragging you to bed and flopping over, making him self comfortable with his head on your chest.

"Hi Buck" You cleared your throat, hoping he wouldn't hear the shake in your voice, carding your fingers though his hair, instantly betraying yourself and melting into him when his hands made their way up your shirt.

"Missed this" he groaned, his sinful lips kissing down your neck and shoulders, slotting himself between your legs. "Thought about it all week"

All week.

When I waited for you to reply at least once.

You felt your eyes sting, forcing back the way your felt for what was happening in the moment. He made it clear what he wanted from you but you weren't sure how much more you could take. You succumbed to his charm, the sheets warm, your body slick with sweat, your face resting against his chest, his arm holding you securely, letting his warm breath tickle your skin.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Bucky's nose nuzzled into your neck, pulling away slightly when he felt you tense in his hold, not responding, "Doll?"

"Maybe-maybe we shouldn't do this anymore" Your throat burned with how hard you were trying to keep from crying, keeping your eyes trained on his chest instead of his sweet baby blues you'd fallen for.

"Why not" Bucky frowned while you shifted uncomfortably.

"What are we Bucky"

"Y/n, we talked about this" He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. You hated the way his arms loosened around you, pulling away his warmth with it, your body curling in on itself as he got off the bed to put his clothes on.

"I know but- I just- I feel used, it's like I'm some dirty secret" you brought your knees to your chest, digging your nails into your palms while he pulled his hoodie over his head. "We've never done anything else other than fuck in my apartment!"

"Its not like that" He argued back, sitting back down at by the edge of the bed.

"Bucky, no one even knows I exist. Tell me, does Steve even know?"

He chewed his lip before shaking his head. He hadn't told anyone about you, not even his best friend. You scoffed, feeling more pathetic than ever, your stomach churning seeing the distance already starting to grow between you both.

"See what I mean? You won't even go out for coffee with me, is just all sex. Is that all I am to you?"

"We both agreed to keep this casual, you know I'm not ready for a relationship y/n, I-I never saw you like that" His words cut deeper, the pit in your stomach growing heavier as he looked at you with pity. "Y/n-

"Fine" You blinked back the stubborn tears that kept welling in your eyes, harshly swiping your cheek as they started to stream down your face, "I get it"

"So where do we go from here" Bucky sighed, a part of him wanting to reach out and wipe the tears that streaked down your cheeks and hold you in his arms, hating the way he could see your heart breaking because of him.

"I can't keep doing this, I can't keep giving you chances just for you to break my heart over and over again." Your voice began to crack, wrapping your arms around your knees, pulling them to your chest, "I-I keep waiting for the day you'd feel differently but I get it, it's not happening"

"I'm sorry" Bucky whispered, almost reaching out to hold you one last time, deciding against it as he got up and made his way out of your room for the last time. His chest ached when he heard the first sob slip past your lips, softly closing the door behind him.

You cried your heard out, the pain far worse than you imagined it to be, wishing you'd kept your feelings to yourself because now you'd lost Bucky forever. You wouldn't wake up to him sneaking into your room for cuddles. You wouldn't walk into your apartment to find him crashed on your couch. You wouldn't wake up wrapped in his arms, legs tangled together with naughty kisses first thing in the morning.

Why did you fall so hard for him.

-

"Alright, what's going on with him" Tony huffed, "He's more grumpy than usual and I'm going to lose my billionaire status with how many punching bags I've replaced within the last week. Rogers?"

Steve shrugged, equally confused and worried as to why his best friend was far more moody than usual. There hadn't been any particularly grueling missions recently and there was nothing scheduled for the month. Over the past few weeks, Bucky had been closed off, secluded in his room, only leaving to spend time in the gym, breaking bags left, right and center.

"What's wrong with you" Steve found the soldier in the gym, grunting between punches, sweat dripping down his body, jaw clenched as he landed another hit, causing the leather to give way with sand spilling to the floor.

"Nothing" Bucky shook his head, hardly registering the sting of his split knuckles, panting while his heart thudded against his chest, having gone at it for the past hour, non stop.

"Buck, this is the fourth bag you've broken" Steve sighed, while Bucky huffed in response, already making his way to the rack to grab a new one.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a girl, would it?" The blonde smirked, carefully watching his face. Bucky's eyes grew wide, blinking while Steve stared at him knowingly.

"N-no" Bucky shook his head, no, this had nothing to do with a girl, nor did it have to do with feelings. He didn't actually care about this girl or miss her, he didn't crave to feel her warmth, he was perfectly capable of falling asleep without cuddling her to his chest. He didn't miss her sweet laugh or cute shy smile. He didn't care that he couldn't hear her voice anymore and she didn't appear in every single one of his dreams, making his heart yearn for her more-

"Buck, seriously?" Steve deadpanned at his best friends lovesick puppy face while Bucky chewed his lip.

"You knew?"

"Not a lot" Steve shrugged. "Saw you talking to that cute librarian once when I was out for a run with Sam. S'not hard to figure out, considering you went from acting like the world was full of sunshine and rainbows to being a grumpy asshole all over again. So what happened"

Bucky only intended on giving Steve the most sparse details but once he started he couldn't stop. The more he spoke, the more it dawned on him that none of it was casual to begin with, that he'd fallen hard, deeply in love with you.

"You love her" Steve stated, seeing clear at day his best friend was an idiot.

"I don't love her" Bucky scoffed, his cheeks blushing at the way Steve cocked an eyebrow, "I love her"

"Go tell her you punk" Steve smacked him upside the head, chuckling as Bucky dashed out of the gym, running straight to his room to shower and change. He trembled like a leaf he entire time, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear, feeling awful for hurting you, awful for bottling and ignoring his feelings while hoping and praying you'd forgive him.

He thought about all the times he wanted more with you, about what it would be like for you to be his girl, fuck there had been nights where he'd even dreamt of spending his life with you. He hid it all away, convincing himself he didn't need anything else, that it was for the best for both of you even if you did make his heart feel whole.

He knew he wanted to be your man, every time he walked through your door, the stresses of his day instantly melting away, feeling like he was home. Nothing comforted him more than holding you in his arms, never wanting to let go.

He hopped onto his motor bike, swerving through the streets, taking the stairs two at a time to get back to you as fast as he could, not wanting to waste another minute. He shamelessly pulled out the spare key, knowing you'd be home around this time considering he had your scheduled memorized by now. Usually around this time, you liked to lounge on the couch under a pile of blankets with your comfort show on.

"Doll?" Bucky quietly unlocked the door, toeing his boots off, the scent of your home already causing his emotions to fly around wildly. He felt like he was home, whole once again, why did he ever let this go.

"Baby, where are you" Bucky called, frowning when he saw your house keys still hanging by the door yet found the living room empty. He continued to search for you, quietly pushing your bedroom door open, melting at the sight of your curled up form, sleeping under a pile of blankets. He felt a pang in his chest seeing tear streaks down your cheeks, evident that you'd been crying.

You stirred at the sound of the door creaking, shifting in your sleep as he quietly made his way over, gently coaxing you awake.

"Hey doll" he whispered, stroking your face with his metal hand, like he always did when he came over in the middle of a night, usually when he couldn't sleep or whenever missions finished and he immediately needed to come and see you.

"Bucky?" Your voice cracked, rubbing sleep from your eyes, unsure if you were dreaming when you felt the bed dip and his cool melt fingers stroking your cheek, the familiar scent of him making you feel giddy after you missed him so much. "What-what are you doing here"

"I- He paused, unsure of where to even start, guilt already consuming him for making you feel like he never cared for you in the first place. "I'm sorry doll. I'm so sorry"

"For what" You scoffed softly, sniffling back fresh tears that wanted to spill, still struggling to mend your broken heart, "Was there something you needed again" Your defeated voice made Bucky feel worse, realizing you probably thought he was back to use you, when you had all the rights to kick him out of your room immediately.

"No! No baby, never. I-I'm not here for that y/n, I promise" Bucky scrambled to your side, reaching for your hands, pressing them to his chest, his heart hammering against his ribcage. "I'm so sorry for what I said to you baby, it wasn't true, I didn't even realize how I felt about you. I missed you so much" HIs eyes were desperately pleading with you to believe him.

"You-you said you never saw me that way" you whispered, shrinking away from him once again, too scared to let him hurt you a second time. "You left me Bucky"

"Baby, look at me" He begged, hesitantly reaching out to cup your cheeks, relaxing a little when you didn't flinch away. "Please sweets, I mean it. I did see you that way. I care about you, fuck, I love you y/n" As soon as the words left Bucky's mouth, he felt complete like never before. It was like his heart stitched itself back together, feeling free, realizing how true it was. He loved you, more than anything else.

"No you don't Bucky" you couldn't bring yourself to believe him, gasping when he pulled you into his arms, his thumb stroking your face.

"I do doll, I promise I do. I was too stupid to realize it even when it was obvious. I thought about you every second of the day, you know that? Whenever the jet would land, I'd run straight to you because I just wanted to come home. I just wanted to come straight to you. You were my everything, i wanted to keep you protected, just live in a world where it was just you and me. I fell in love with you angel, tried to convince myself every single day that what I felt for you was nothing more"

"Bucky-

"Steve knew" Bucky cut you off, chuckling at your confused, pouty expression.

"What?"

"He knew. He didn't know everything but he knew enough to piece together why I was acting like a love stuck idiot. You have no idea what kind of effect you had on me doll. I was the happiest I've ever been with you. My heart was breakin' without you baby, I just wanted my girl back"

"Your girl?" You whispered softly, your cheeks heating up at the thought while Bucky nodded, pulling you down to lay with him.

"My girl. All mine. Can't believe I tried to ignore it, I've been in love with you for so long doll. M'sorry I hurt you angel, I'll never break your heart again, I promise" He held you to his chest, his words making your eyes water, burying yourself in his warmth. He kissed the tears that spilled from your lashes, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Will you be mine? Really mine?"

"M'yours Bucky" your voice was muffled, clinging onto him while he wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair.

"Y'know this means you'll have to put up with Steve and Sam" Bucky playfully teased making you giggle, already aware his friends would probably start to follow him once they officially found out about you. "and you'll have to be my date for all of Tony's extravagant shit"

"That doesn't sound so bad" You quipped, while Bucky rolled over, tucking his face against your neck, needily cuddling into you, craving your warmth after weeks of having been apart.

"That's because you've never seen me drink, sugar" Bucky hummed, sleep already starting to claim him, hugging you tightly as he closed his eyes. "Might even drunkenly ask you to marry me"

"I'd drunkenly say yes" you hummed, wrapping your body around his, he warmth of his skin making your eyes grow heavy.

"I love you doll" Bucky whispered before falling fast asleep in your arms, the world once again filled with sunshine with rainbows now that he was finally with you.

His girl.

His home.

[covenofagatha]

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 2)

More flirting from Agatha the morning after and then the much anticipated Halloween party starts...

Word count: 2500

Warnings: allusions to smut

The sunlight streaming in through the windows wakes you up and you stretch with a groan. It takes a few seconds for you to get your bearings and heat floods your face at the memory of Agatha last night. 

You really need to get a hold of yourself. 

You brush your teeth and head downstairs. The door to Nicky’s room is shut, which doesn’t surprise you. You cannot sleep past eight, meanwhile, he can easily sleep until noon if he isn’t interrupted. 

Agatha is down in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cooks eggs on the stove. 

“Good morning,” you say quietly so you don’t startle her. She turns around, eyes raking up and down your body, still clad in the nightie she gave you last night. The older woman’s hair is messy and she wears a black robe with flower designs, still managing to look hot as fuck. The robe has a low V-neck and you have to make an active effort not to stare.

“Hey, sweetheart. My clothes look good on you,” she says with a smirk. You have to bite back a comment about how they’d look even better on her floor. “How’d you sleep?” 

She turns back to the stove, but has her head tilted toward you so you can tell she’s still listening. 

“I slept great,” you answer honestly. “The bed is so comfortable I might just move in.” 

She gives you a heated glance. “I’d be more than okay with that.” 

You swallow hard. “Thanks for having me over for dinner and for letting me spend the night. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, dear. You’re always welcome,” she says warmly. “What time do you have to leave for work?”

You glance at the clock. Your shift starts at 9:30 am and it’s currently 8:15. It’s a twenty minute drive from their house. “Around 9 or so.” 

She hums and scoops some eggs onto a plate and hands it to you. They’re scrambled, your favorite. She retrieves a fork and gives that to you as well, your hands slightly brushing. 

“Thank you so much,” you say and sit on a stool at the island so you can watch her. She makes herself a plate and stands on the other side by the sink so you’re facing each other. 

“So, you’re dressing up as a witch for Halloween,” she starts. You blink, and then recall that you had mentioned that last night. “Why a witch?”

“I don’t know. I’m really into witchcraft and all that, plus they’re a staple of Halloween. I just think their history is really fascinating and there’s all different kinds of representation of witches in the media. I also just like the costumes,” you hastily add, not wanting to bore her with your nerdy thoughts. But Agatha is hanging on to every word, nodding in agreement.

“I’m glad Nicky has a friend as smart as you. And I’m sure you’ll look great in a witch’s costume,” she says with a wink. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” She looks positively delighted that you’re playing along and internally you are proud of yourself. If she’s going to flirt with you, maybe you can have some fun back. “Are you dressing up for your party?”

She laughs at that. “Dear, I think I’m a little too old for that. No one wants to see a forty-five year old woman dressed as Snow White.” 

You bite your lip. It’s got to be a crime to be this turned on by how old she is. “Maybe not a princess. You could be a witch. Or maybe a cowboy or something.” Images of her wearing a slutty Halloween costume flitter across your mind and you work hard to push them out. 

“Maybe you can pick me something out. Now eat your eggs before they get cold.”

You obey. You’d do anything she says, you think. She also picks up her fork and is bringing the egg to her open mouth (not that you’re staring or anything) when a piece of egg falls off and falls right into the open V of her chest. 

“Whoops,” she says innocently. She cranes her neck to look down and swipe the egg up with her finger and then sucks the finger into her mouth. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

You stammer out an apology, blushing harder than ever, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The last thing you want to do is make her uncomfortable in her own home, but she seems to be enjoying the effect she has on you.

“I don’t mind, dear. It’s always nice to get some attention.”Oh, come on. She has to be flirting with you now. “Ever since Nicky’s father left…” She trails off. 

“I’m sorry,” you say lamely, because you don’t know what else to say. You don’t know the story of what happened and you don’t want to make Agatha feel like she has to talk about it. But if she thinks that no one would pay her attention when she looks like that, she is wrong. 

She gives you a soft smile and then brightens up. “It was for the best. I realized that I wanted something different than he could offer. He was a safe option, but I was tired of that. I wanted something new.” Her eyes burn into you as they travel down to your chest. 

Is she saying what you think she’s saying?

You look down at yourself just to make sure you didn’t accidentally spill anything and you see your nipples poking through the silky material of Agatha’s nightie. Oh. You look back up and she finally tears her eyes away and looks at you. 

“Who’s staring now?” you say before you even have a chance to think about it. Her grin is wolfish and her stare is unapologetic. She shrugs. 

“I’m just admiring how good my clothes look on you. Why don’t you keep it? Any woman who gets the pleasure of seeing you in it is a lucky one,” she says. 

“Oh, I couldn’t–” Is she counting herself lucky? Or is she just being nice?

“I insist.”

“Thank you.” And now you need to get out of here before you explode. You shovel the rest of the eggs into your mouth, stand up, and go to the sink to wash off your plate. 

You’ve just turned the water on when, all of a sudden, her warm body presses against you. Your brain short-circuits and you freeze. Her arm reaches around and shuts the water off and she pries the plate from your hand. 

“Let me,” she whispers right in your ear. You shiver and you turn around. Her face is three inches from yours, her body just a hair away. You can feel her hot breath on your face and you can’t help yourself from looking down at her lips. 

Her tongue darts out and licks her lips and oh god, you are going to kiss her. 

You look back up and meet her hooded blue eyes. Neither of you move, and you’re just about to say fuck it and lean in when you hear a noise from upstairs. 

Nicky. He must be awake. 

Agatha smirks and steps back, putting some space between you and you finally feel like you can breathe. 

“I should probably get going. I think I’ll run by my house and change my clothes,” you tell her, heart going a hundred miles an hour. 

“Good plan,” she says, not taking her eyes off you. “I’ll see you on Halloween.”

You give her a tight smile. “Tell Nicky I’ll see him Monday?” She nods and you quickly leave her house. Once in your car, you run a hand through your blonde hair and inhale and exhale slowly. 

Holy shit. 

***

The next few days pass quickly. Your Halloween costume comes in and you don’t remember it being this tight or short when you ordered it. The black long-sleeve crop top accentuates your breasts and the dark purple miniskirt barely covers your ass. The purple hat is really the only thing that looks like it belongs to a witch. 

You don’t care, though. If anything, you can’t wait to see Agatha’s reaction to it, assuming the looks and the touches and everything else from her last week wasn’t just a fluke. 

A text from Nicky buzzes on your phone, saying that you can come over whenever for the party. It’s supposed to start at 8 pm. It’s an hour and a half before, so you text him back that you’ll get ready and then come over. 

You curl your shoulder length blonde hair and the black smokey eye makeup makes your green eyes pop. You finish off with a cherry red lipstick. You put your costume on, topping it off with a pair of knee high black boots. 

You have to admit, you look hot and your stomach warms at the thought of Agatha seeing you like this. 

You arrive at their house at 7:45. You see no other cars in their driveway, but you figure it’s early and you’re best friends with Nicky anyways, so who cares. 

The doorbell rings and it almost immediately swings open. Nicky stands there, black vest, black-and-red striped pants, a sword hanging from his belt, and a pirate hat on his head. He whistles at you. 

“Damn, you look good,” he says, stepping over so you have room to come in. 

“I’m glad you found a costume in time,” you remark, laughing as his fake sword gets in the way. 

“Mom would’ve had my head on a spike if I didn’t,” he replies solemnly. “Come on, we’re almost done setting up. You can help me spike the punch.”

You follow him into the kitchen and are taken aback by how decorated it is. The lights are dim and it looks like cobwebs are covering the countertops. Fog is rolling in from somewhere. Fake spiders and bones are strategically placed around the kitchen. There’s donut holes decorated to look like eyeballs, the punch is bright green and in a cauldron, there’s candy. 

It’s going to be an awesome party. 

“Nicky, can you grab the tape from the drawer,” Agatha yells from somewhere else, not in the kitchen. Your friend springs into action and leaves you alone in the kitchen. 

You slowly walk around the island, tracing a finger along the cobwebs. You pick up an eyeball-donut and pop it into your mouth. It’s good. You can tell how much thought Agatha and Nicky have put into setting up for the party and you love it. 

“Where did you say it was?” you hear Agatha say, you’re guessing to Nicky, her voice growing louder. You spin around just in time for her to enter the kitchen, stopping in her tracks the moment she sees you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, covering your mouth as you finish chewing on the donut. Her mouth settles into a smirk as her eyes trace you up and down. 

“Quite the getup, sweetheart,” she says in a low voice. 

You blush and then notice what she’s wearing. Maroon leather pants and a long black vest that doesn’t touch in the middle, leaving a strip of skin all the way down from her neck to her wide belt. A headband is wrapped around her head, bunching the hair at the top. 

“Look at you,” you say breathlessly. You want nothing more than to run your tongue down her bare chest and listen to her moan. 

“I decided to dress up after all. Now, would you be a dear and hand me the scissors from the bottom drawer to the left of the fridge?” 

You nod and it’s as you're bending down that you remember how short your skirt is and you realize that Agatha can probably see the lacy purple underwear you’re wearing (just for her). You swear you hear her breath hitch and suddenly you feel her presence right behind you. 

Her warm hand touches your lower back and you fight the urge to gasp. 

“Did you find it?” she murmurs. She leans over you and her hand slides down you, almost reaching your ass. Fuck. 

“Yep!” you almost squeal and jump up. You hand her the scissors and she deliberately puts her hand over yours to grab them. 

There’s no way this is in your head. Agatha is either playing some cruel joke on you, or she actually wants you. 

And you’re praying to god that it’s the second one. 

***

Thirty minutes later, the party is in full-swing. It seems to you that the entire neighborhood must be here. People in costumes fill the kitchen and the surrounding halls and you push through the crowds to find your way back to the punch. You’re not sure what’s all in it, but it’s addicting. Nicky and you had poured an entire bottle of vodka in it, much to Agatha’s chagrin, but almost every partygoer you saw was drinking it. 

You scoop yourself another cup and lean back on the island, slowly sipping it, just watching everybody at the party. An older man dressed as a police officer comes over to you, obviously drunk from the way he’s moving. 

“What’s a pretty young thing doing at this party all alone?” he slurs, the smell of vodka and maybe something else hitting your face. You wince. 

“I’m not alone, I’m about to go find my friend,” you say loudly over the music and stand up straight so you can leave. 

He grabs your wrist. You feel a spike of fear flash through you, but in an instant, you feel a protective arm wrap around your shoulders. You turn your head, figuring it’s Nicky, but instead, it’s his mother. 

“Herb, get out of here,” she says harshly and steers you away. Her arm doesn’t leave your shoulders and her hand has started stroking your bicep. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Thank you for that. He was just a little drunk,” you say, not quite sure why she’s leading you up the stairs. 

“That doesn’t excuse it,” she says, a tight expression on her face. She takes you into her room and motions for you to sit on her bed. She sits next to you. 

You don’t know what’s happening, but you’re in Agatha’s room with Agatha, so you’re not complaining. “Well, luckily I had my knight in shining armor to protect me,” you say, nudging her shoulder with your own. 

She smiles and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. “You look really nice,” she says. “Super witchy.” 

You laugh at that. “I didn’t realize I ordered the slutty witch costume. Must’ve accidentally ordered it a few sizes too small.”

“I’m glad you did,” she flirts, her eyes obviously dropping down to your cleavage. 

“Agatha…” you whisper, not sure where you’re going with it. It’s wrong, you know it’s wrong. She’s your best friend’s mother. She’s twenty-five years older than you. There’s no way she’d want someone this young, this inexperienced. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” she whispers back, looking back up at you. 

Your brain is going a mile a minute trying to figure out what to say. But what can you say?

So you just lean forward and press your lips to hers. 

[ginxyy]

 Tension

Tension…. Sexual tension and jealousy

The studio had always felt like a second home. Its familiar smell of wood, equipment, and the faint traces of coffee made it a place where ideas flowed naturally. But today, that comfort was gone. Everything was different. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on me as I sat at the soundboard, pretending to work.

Mingyu’s presence was suffocating, even though he stood across the room with the rest of Seventeen. He hadn’t said a word to me since the argument, but I could feel his eyes on me, burning with a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place.

It had all gone wrong so quickly. Mingyu and I had been friends for years, close in a way that felt natural, but always simmering beneath the surface was this undeniable tension. There had been moments where it felt like the lines between friendship and something more had blurred. The way his hand would linger on my back, or how his voice would drop lower when he spoke to me late at night. But we had never crossed that line. Not until I started dating his bandmate, Minghao.

I hadn’t meant for things to get this messy. Mingyu had started seeing someone else, and it had hurt more than I’d expected. I wanted to move on, or at least make it look like I had. Minghao was kind, sweet even, and I thought maybe being with him would help me forget about whatever it was that Mingyu and I had left unsaid. But it only made things worse.

When Mingyu found out, his reaction had been immediate and explosive. We’d fought in front of everyone, the studio becoming a battleground as voices rose and accusations flew. He was furious—angry in a way that felt personal, like I had betrayed him. But how could I betray him when he wasn’t mine to begin with?

That had been days ago, and though the fight had subsided, the storm between us hadn’t. It was still there, crackling in the silence between us. Every time our eyes met, the air seemed to buzz with unresolved emotions.

Now, the rest of Seventeen was packing up to leave, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened, oblivious to the tension that still hung in the room. Mingyu stood by the door, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on me as I tried to focus on the computer screen in front of me, pretending to edit a track.

As the last of them filed out, I felt a shift in the air. The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly it was just the two of us.

I glanced up, my heart pounding. Mingyu hadn’t moved. He was still standing by the door, his jaw clenched, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Mingyu,” I started, my voice coming out more strained than I intended, “we need to talk.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he took a slow step forward, then another, until he was standing directly in front of me. His presence was overwhelming, and I could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned down, placing his hands on the desk on either side of me, trapping me in place.

“Mingyu..”

“Why him?” His voice was low, almost a growl, but I could hear the hurt buried beneath the anger. “Why did it have to be him?”

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. “You’re dating someone else,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you to figure out what you want?”

His eyes flashed, and before I could react, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was rough, almost desperate, like he was trying to prove something. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My mind was spinning, but my body responded instinctively, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back with the same intensity.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was a clash of emotions anger, frustration, desire all pouring out in a whirlwind of heated touches and breathless kisses. Mingyu’s hands roamed over my body, gripping my hips, my waist, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

I pulled away for a moment, gasping for air. “This… this isn’t right,” I managed to say, but the words felt hollow even as they left my mouth.

Mingyu’s forehead pressed against mine, his breath heavy and uneven. “I don’t care,” he muttered, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “I can’t… I can’t stand seeing you with him. You’re mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and before I could protest, he kissed me again, his hands sliding under my shirt, the heat of his touch igniting something deep within me.

I should have stopped it. I knew this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. But every rational thought disappeared the moment his lips found my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. My body reacted on instinct, arching into him, craving more of the intensity he was offering.

The room seemed to blur around us, the only sounds the frantic rustle of clothes and the desperate gasps for air between kisses. It was chaotic, messy, and nothing like the quiet, unsaid feelings we’d harbored for so long. But it was real, raw in a way that neither of us could ignore.

Mingyu’s grip tightened as he backed me up against the wall, his lips never leaving mine. His kiss grew even more demanding, his hands exploring every inch of skin he could reach. It was like he was making up for lost time, for all the moments we had let slip by without acting on the tension between us.

I broke away again, panting as I looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with so many emotions I couldn’t read. Anger, desire, maybe even regret. But beneath it all, there was something else. Something deeper that neither of us had dared to admit.

“Mingyu,” I whispered, my voice shaky as I reached up to touch his face, my fingers brushing against his cheek.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, his breath ragged. “Don’t,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Don’t say anything.”

But I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, I saw the vulnerability he had been hiding. “Because I didn’t know how,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And now… now it’s too late.”

The weight of his words hung heavy between us, but before I could respond, he kissed me again, silencing any further conversation. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of me against him.

The world outside the studio didn’t matter anymore. It was just us, caught in the whirlwind of emotions we had been avoiding for so long. There was no going back now.

Mingyu’s body pressed harder against mine, and the heat between us was palpable. Every breath felt like fire, every touch electric as his lips claimed mine with a passion that sent shockwaves through me. His hands roamed down my sides, fingertips pressing into my skin like he was desperate to memorize every curve, every inch.

I couldn’t think anymore there was no room for thought. The only thing that existed was the overwhelming need, the raw, unrestrained desire that had been building between us for so long. Mingyu kissed me like he was drowning, and I was the air he so desperately needed. His lips moved with a fierce intensity, pulling soft gasps and moans from my throat, and I didn’t care if anyone could hear. All I wanted was him here, now, and forever.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as his hand slid beneath the hem of my shirt. The skin-on-skin contact sent sparks through me, and I arched into him, wanting no, needing more. I tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head in a frantic rush, and when his bare chest met mine, the intensity between us only deepened.

Mingyu’s breath hitched as my hands slid across his skin, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath my fingertips. He was perfect solid, warm, and everything I had ever wanted but had never allowed myself to admit. His hand came to rest on the small of my back, pulling me even closer, until there wasn’t a sliver of space between us. His lips found mine again, more demanding this time, his teeth grazing my bottom lip, making me gasp.

I felt the cool air hit my skin as he tugged my shirt off, tossing it aside without breaking the kiss. His hands were everywhere at once, sliding up my back, gripping my hips, as if he couldn’t get enough. And I didn’t want him to stop. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, the taste of him overwhelming my senses.

“Mingyu,” I breathed, my voice trembling as I pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that took my breath away. “I—”

“Don’t,” he cut me off, his voice rough and hoarse as his forehead pressed against mine. “Don’t say anything. Just… let me have this.”

There was a raw vulnerability in his words, and it broke something inside me. I could feel the weight of everything unsaid between us the years of friendship, the countless times we had held back, the confusion of watching him date someone else while I buried my feelings for him. But here, in this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was him, and the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world.

He kissed me again, slow and deep, and it felt like everything was unraveling. His hands slid down my sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and when his fingers found the waistband of my jeans, I shivered. He paused for a split second, his eyes searching mine for permission, and when I nodded, he wasted no time in unbuttoning them, his fingers deft as he pulled them down.

I kicked them off, barely aware of anything but the feel of him. The intensity between us was so thick I could barely breathe. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me effortlessly as he pressed me back against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist, and the heat of his body against mine sent a jolt of pleasure through me.

I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as he kissed his way down my neck, his breath hot against my skin. Every touch, every kiss was a mixture of need and frustration, of emotions we had kept bottled up for so long. And now that the dam had broken, there was no going back.

“Mingyu,” I whispered his name, barely able to form coherent thoughts as his lips trailed lower, his tongue flicking against my collarbone. My back arched involuntarily, and I could feel him smirk against my skin, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me.

“You’re mine,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive as his hands gripped my hips tighter. “You’ve always been mine.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my lips. His mouth found mine again, and this time the kiss was slower, more deliberate. It wasn’t just about the physical anymore it was about everything that had been left unsaid for so long.

I could feel the tension building between us, the need becoming almost unbearable as his hands moved lower, tugging at the last barrier of clothing between us. My breath hitched as he slid my underwear down, the cool air hitting my heated skin, but any nerves I might have felt were drowned out by the sheer intensity of the moment.

Mingyu’s lips never left mine as he pulled me even closer, his body pressing firmly against mine. The sensation was overwhelming, and I could feel every inch of him, hard and ready, as he held me in place. The air between us was thick with anticipation, and I could feel the trembling in his hands as they roamed over my body, almost as if he was afraid this moment wasn’t real.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint as he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darkened at my words, and without another second of hesitation, he closed the distance between us. The world seemed to stop as he pressed into me, the sensation sending a shockwave through my entire body. I gasped, my fingers digging into his arms as I tried to anchor myself in the storm of emotions crashing through me.

He moved slowly at first, his breath hot against my neck as he kissed me softly, his movements deliberate, as if he was savoring every second. But soon, the restraint began to crumble, and the slow, deliberate rhythm turned into something more primal, more desperate.

Every thrust, every movement, was filled with a need so raw it was almost painful. Mingyu’s hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer, deeper, and I could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to keep control. I clung to him, my nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his back as I tried to keep up with the overwhelming pace he was setting.

The sound of our ragged breaths and soft gasps filled the room, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of the emotions between us. This wasn’t just about lust, or even love. It was about everything we had held back, every moment we had spent pretending we didn’t want each other.

Mingyu’s lips found mine again, and this time the kiss was softer, almost reverent, as if he was trying to tell me everything he couldn’t say with words. I kissed him back just as desperately, my body trembling with the force of everything I was feeling.

“I love you,” he breathed against my lips, his voice barely audible but filled with so much emotion it made my heart ache. “I’ve always loved you.”

The tears finally spilled over at his words, and I couldn’t stop them, even as I kissed him back, my fingers tangling in his hair. “I love you too,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the weight of everything finally settled over me.

Mingyu’s movements became more frantic, more desperate, and I could feel the tension building between us, the pleasure spiraling higher and higher until it was almost unbearable. I clung to him, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the world around us seemed to blur.

And then, with one final, desperate thrust, everything shattered. The pleasure crashed over me like a tidal wave, and I cried out, my body trembling as I clung to him, riding the wave of emotions that threatened to pull me under.

Mingyu followed seconds later, his body tensing as he buried his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he groaned, the sound low and raw. He held me tightly, his hands gripping my hips as he rode out the final waves of pleasure, his body trembling against mine.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, our breaths mingling in the heavy silence of the studio as we clung to each other, both of us too overwhelmed by what had just happened to speak.

The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by our heavy breathing. Mingyu’s arms remained wrapped around me, his forehead resting against my shoulder as we stayed pressed together, neither of us wanting to let go. His body was still trembling slightly, and I could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, syncing with mine in a way that felt almost too intimate.

Slowly, the weight of everything settled in the years of unspoken tension, the tangled mess of emotions that had exploded between us. This moment felt like the culmination of it all, and yet, now that it had happened, the world outside the studio seemed to feel too small for everything we had just shared.

Mingyu finally lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine, and the raw vulnerability in them made my heart ache. His thumb brushed gently over my cheek, wiping away the tear tracks that had dried there, and for a moment, all the heat, all the urgency, dissolved into something softer. Something deeper.

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely audible. His hand was still on my face, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw with a tenderness that took my breath away. “I thought… I thought I could ignore it, that I could keep pretending. But I can’t anymore.”

His words hung between us, and I reached up, covering his hand with mine as I tried to find the right thing to say. But the truth was, there were no perfect words for this moment. There was only the truth the raw, messy truth we had both been running from for so long.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “I didn’t know how to handle it either. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

A shadow crossed his face, and his grip on me tightened, as if he were afraid I might slip away. “I never wanted to hurt you either,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “Seeing you with Minghao, it killed me. I thought if I could just push you away, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. But it did. It always did.”

My heart clenched at the raw pain in his voice, and I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. “I was scared,” I admitted, the words barely a whisper. “Scared that if I said how I felt, you’d push me away for good. And then… then you started dating her, and I thought that was it. That we’d never… that I’d never be enough.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, as if he was trying to find the words that would make this easier. But there was no easy way to unravel the tangled web of emotions that had brought us here.

“You were always enough,” he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a confession. “I just… I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know if I could give you everything you deserved. And when you went on that date with Minghao, it made me realize how stupid I’d been.”

There was a weight to his words that settled deep in my chest, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over again. But they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of release, of finally letting go of all the fear and doubt that had held me back for so long.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I reached up to cradle his face in my hands. “I don’t want to pretend this doesn’t matter, that you don’t matter. I want this. I want you.”

Mingyu’s breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But then, he was kissing me again softly, reverently, as if he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my heart swell, and I felt the warmth of his love in every gentle touch.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t fueled by anger or frustration or years of pent-up desire. It was something more something fragile and beautiful, something that spoke of love that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, waiting for the right moment to be set free.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world outside the studio falling away. There was no one else in the world but us no bandmates, no expectations, no lingering jealousy or regrets. Just Mingyu and me, caught in this quiet moment of clarity.

Eventually, he pulled away, his forehead resting against mine again as he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what happens next,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how we figure all of this out. But I don’t care. As long as we do it together.”

I smiled softly, my fingers brushing through his hair as I held him close. “We’ll figure it out,” I promised, my voice steady. “We’ve come this far. We can handle whatever comes next.”

For the first time since this whirlwind between us had begun, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. The future was uncertain, and I knew there would be challenges ahead things to work through, to heal from. But for now, in this moment, everything felt right.

Mingyu kissed me again, softer this time, as if sealing the promise between us. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, and I melted into him, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last remnants of doubt.

We stayed like that, holding each other in the dim light of the studio, until the world outside started to stir again. But it didn’t matter. The noise, the chaos it all felt distant compared to the quiet certainty I found in his arms.

Because now, there was no more running. No more pretending. Mingyu and I had finally crossed the line we had been dancing around for years, and there was no going back.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to.

[callsign-rogueone]

you're somebody else - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x Reader words: 1.7k 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. reader uses she/her pronouns. angst, angst, angst (but a happy ending!) blood, discussion of injury, scars and stitches. inspired by / titled after the song by flora cash

Your fiancé has been dead for six years. You’d read his name on the death roll, and burned his belongings in an offering to Malek. 

Now he’s standing thirty feet away from you with both of his sisters, breathing and moving, reacting to something they’d said.

He’s alive.

Your grip on your bag falters, and it falls to the floor with a soft thud. 

Everyone’s eyes turn to you. The younger of the two Sorrengail girls recognizes you instantly, her lips parting in shock as she takes you in for the first time since Brennan’s graduation from Basgiath. 

Her gaze shifts to her brother, whose eyes are now locked with yours. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, unable to pull your eyes away from the man in front of you. 

You make no move toward him; don’t leap into his arms like he’d imagined for years, don’t hug him as tightly as you can, don’t cry tears of happiness. Your boots are still glued to the polished floor of the hall. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I…”

You flinch at his voice, the sound you’ve only heard in dreams for the last six years.

The tall man standing beside him, who you distantly recognize to be Fen Riorson’s son, motions for the two girls to leave.

“It’s good to see you again,” Violet says softly. You’ve always had a soft spot for her, had written her letters after you’d gotten the news, sharing in her grief. 

Mira only gives you a lingering glance as she follows her sister, leaving you alone with Brennan.

“You’re hurt,” he says gently, seeing the tear in the right thigh of your pants and the bloody gash beneath it. “Can I mend you?”

You remain silent, but you nod once in affirmation.

You pretend the hands on your leg belong to anyone else, keeping your eyes forward while he kneels in front of you, working to close the wound.

He finally speaks. “My love, I’m so-”

“Please don’t call me that,” you interrupt, and he feels a pain rival to that of the arrow he’d taken to the chest, the one that should have killed him. 

He’s silent, letting you continue. You’ll likely have as much pent up emotion to release as his sisters did when they found out. Thankfully, you choose Violet’s path over Mira’s, eviscerating him with words rather than fists. His nose still doesn’t feel right; mending himself has always been difficult.

“I still mourn you,” you tell him. “I've lit a candle for Malek every night in your honor since I got the news. To have my life crumble around me, to find out we’re at war, that I’ve been on the wrong side the whole time, and then to find that for six years, you’ve been alive, but you never once thought about writing to me to tell me any of it…” you shake your head, pressing your lips together to hold in a sob.

You steady your breathing after a moment. “I’m glad you’re alive, Brennan, I really am. But my Brennan, the man I was supposed to marry, the one who wrote me love letters in ancient languages, is still dead. He has been for years.”

You reach into the chest pocket of your flight jacket, placing something cold in his hand and closing his fingers around it. He doesn’t need to look down to know that it's your engagement ring.

“Thank you for the mending,” you say, picking up your bag. 

He waits until your footsteps have retreated back into the hallway, letting loose a shuddering sob.

Marbh sends him a wave of warmth and empathy. If there is any being who knows how much it had hurt Brennan to be away from you so long, it is him.

“Your brother needs you, silver one,” Tairn relays to Violet, a resigned quiet in his tone that has the cadet slipping away from the group to run back to the assembly room.

When she arrives, she finds Brennan sitting on the floor, knees tucked to his chest, sobbing. It’s a sight she never wants to see again; it just feels so wrong. 

Brennan had always been the strongest of the siblings, the tree that could weather any storm, a perfect balance of their mother’s intense strength and their father’s calm intelligence. It was always her crying after an injury, Mira or Brennan taking her to the infirmary for Nolon to mend it, soothing her all the while.

It’s her turn now to hold him as he cries, murmuring reassurances.

“She’ll come around,” Violet promises, though there’s a nagging feeling in her chest that says you might not. “Prove to her that you are the same man she fell in love with, that you are still worthy of her, and she’ll come around.”

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

You don’t speak with him for two days, only seeing him stand on the dais at Battle Brief. 

It had stung to hear Devera refer to him as Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. He’d changed his name. He really isn’t your Brennan anymore. 

He catches you at breakfast — none of your squadmates had come with you from Montserrat, so you’re sitting alone at one of the long tables.

You look up at him silently, letting him speak first. 

He lays a thick bundle of papers on the table in front of you. “The first year of letters,” he answers before you can ask, “that I was too much of a coward to send.”

You look down at the stack of aged parchment. There have to be at least twenty letters there — one a week since July, when he’d been sent to Aretia.

By the time you look back up, he’s gone.

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

A week passes, then another. 

He’s nearly too busy to worry about you, between the arguments among the assembly, the arrival of the gryphon fliers and the subsequent issues integrating them, and his duties mending the injuries resulting from the animosity there.

Someone steps through the door of the infirmary, panting as they limp an injured rider forward. “She just collapsed. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Brennan realizes it’s you they’re holding up, his heart pounding. He wraps an arm around your waist to take you from your friend, and his hand slips against your side, warm and wet with blood. 

He guides you onto one of the empty beds, pulling up the sticky fabric of your shirt.

The messily-wrapped bandage around your torso has absorbed all the blood it can, the row of stitches underneath torn open. You must have done this yourself in an effort to avoid him, and it didn’t hold.

At least the wound doesn’t seem infected.

He presses a clean palm into the skin, apologizing when you whimper and flinch away. “S’okay, pretty girl,” he soothes, brushing the hair from your forehead gently.

You don’t seem to hear him, your eyes still closed. Fuck, how much blood have you lost?

It’s easy enough to mend the wound, but it’s going to scar — it’s not fresh enough for him to make it disappear without a trace.

He washes the blood from his hands, pulling up a chair beside the bed and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep.

He has no idea if you’ve read the letters he gave you had changed your mind, or if you’d read them at all. You may very well have burned them. You’d be right to, after the way he’d lied to you.

You might never take him back. This may be his last chance to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against his. 

He takes your hand gently, intertwining your fingers and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, squeezing your palm three times — three times means I love you, you’d told him years ago.

His heart nearly stops as you squeeze back weakly; once, twice, three times.

—————————————————————

You blink the sleep from your eyes, your gaze settling on Brennan sitting beside you, an ancient looking book in his hand, pen between his teeth and a notebook covered with nearly incoherent scribbles in his lap.

Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you’d thought.

The book and notes are quickly abandoned when he realizes you’re awake. “What the hell happened?”

“Godsdamned gryphon bit me because it didn’t like the order I gave it’s flier,” you explain, stretching your aching muscles. How long had you been asleep?

“And rather than seeking professional help, you stitched it up yourself?” He asks in that same stern tone he’d always used with you after you put yourself in danger.

This time you don’t find it endearing. 

“Yes, I did, like I have for the last six years every time I’ve been injured,” you snap. “The way people do when they don’t have a mender with them.”

He holds his tongue, realizing how many scars you’d acquired over the years. Since he developed his signet, he’d always mended even the smallest of scrapes for you, but now stripes of scar tissue run across your skin like rivers on a map, ghosts of past wounds, some healed better than others.

He imagines you sitting alone in your barracks room with a needle and thread, a folded shirt clenched between your teeth as you sewed the wounds shut.

“Please come see me next time?” He asks softly, genuine concern in his voice. “It could have gotten infected, or worse. And if your friend hadn’t been there…”

You sigh, guilt tugging at you. “Okay.”

“Thank you. Get some rest,” he encourages, turning to gather his things.

“I read some of the letters,” you say, and he turns back to face you. “I’m still hurt, but I’m not angry. I don’t think I could ever be angry with you. You’re a good man, Bren. You’ve done great things for these people.”

The weight on his chest lightens, but he stays quiet, waiting for another heartbreaking line.

“Can we start over?” You ask in a whisper, looking up at him. “Can we try to be us again?”

He smiles. “I’d love nothing more, sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters at the word, as if you’re hearing it from him for the first time. In a way, you are.

[shawnxstyles]

panty stealer 2

DATE: JULY 12, 2023

summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.

requested: so many times yes!

words: 11.2k!! woah

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff

note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again

—

so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.

he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.

was that dramatic? maybe.

you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.

peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.

every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.

and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.

peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.

in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.

not much of a treat, huh?

outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.

flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.

—

knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.

you were becoming important to him, a priority.

he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.

ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.

the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.

after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.

like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.

for you.

peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.

you have got to be fucking joking.

your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.

god, he wanted to touch you so bad.

he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—

“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”

well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.

using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.

without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.

peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.

he came back.

“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”

“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.

“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.

“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”

“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.

“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.

“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”

peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.

“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.

“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.

“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”

close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.

his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.

who is peter parker?

fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.

“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.

“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.

your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.

“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.

your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.

without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.

although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.

peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.

“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.

“y/n.”

“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.

“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?

“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.

“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”

your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.

“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.

a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?

you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”

“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”

“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.

how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?

“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.

no time for beating around the bush.

“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.

“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.

“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.

“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.

“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”

“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.

he must live at the gym.

“you started talking about sex first!”

he’s not wrong.

“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”

your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”

just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.

“you have to go, don’t you?”

“i’m sorry—”

“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.

he is obsessed with kissing you.

however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.

“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”

you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.

a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.

“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.

ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.

you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.

not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.

“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.

you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…

“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.

you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.

—

those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.

you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.

you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.

at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.

you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.

without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.

violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.

“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”

“what? who said anything about a guy?”

“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”

“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.

“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.

not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.

“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.

“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”

“but the party is in–”

“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”

–

for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.

your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).

and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.

you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.

you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.

violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.

however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.

she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.

“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”

“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.

you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.

–

peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.

he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.

why would you?

peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?

you were moaning his name.

he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.

god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.

like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.

taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.

is that you? how did he miss you?

moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.

but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.

he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.

releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.

he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.

even though that’s all he really wants.

“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.

he nearly faints when he sees your costume.

short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.

maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…

“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.

“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”

there’s no dancing around it.

now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.

“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”

peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.

“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.

“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”

“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.

“you’re such an idiot.”

“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”

“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.

“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”

“superman is a great superhero—”

“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.

“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.

“nothing,” peter shrugs.

“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”

“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”

“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.

and just like that he’s in control.

“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.

“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.

“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.

“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.

“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.

but tonight everything is different.

unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.

looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.

peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.

he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.

“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.

“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.

“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”

“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”

“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”

“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.

“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”

“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.

why was it so much easier when he broke in?

he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.

“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.

“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.

“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.

“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.

“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.

when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.

your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.

you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.

when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.

“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”

just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?

after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.

“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.

“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.

so why are you nervous?

but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”

after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.

his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.

trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.

“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”

you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.

lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.

“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.

“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.

a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”

with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.

“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”

you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.

but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?

“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.

“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.

“do you care if i rip them?”

“what?”

“can i rip them?”

“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”

“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”

you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.

“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.

peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.

his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.

“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”

“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.

“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”

“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.

“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.

“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.

you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.

your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.

his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.

you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.

“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”

“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”

so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.

he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?

“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.

“yeah, just… thinking.”

“good or bad?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.

“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.

“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”

you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.

“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.

“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?

“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”

“don’t think you’re really capable.”

“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.

as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.

you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.

“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.

“i-i can’t,” you whine.

“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,

“it’s too hard.”

“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”

peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.

“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”

you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.

“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”

“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.

before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.

he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.

the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.

peter hoped the same thing.

“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.

“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”

“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.

“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”

peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.

“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…

for another time.

his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.

“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.

“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”

“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”

“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”

“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”

the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.

peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.

“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.

“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”

“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.

“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.

“i would–”

“oh, there’s a but coming.”

“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.

he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.

peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.

once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.

“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”

although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.

his girl.

“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”

“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”

he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.

–

“what are you doing? come on!”

“what if they see me?”

“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.

it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.

you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.

you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.

“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.

“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”

“definitely.”

“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”

“uh… yeah. sorry.”

“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.

you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.

even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.

“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”

“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.

“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?

peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.

“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”

“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.

“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”

your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”

and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?

within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.

“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.

“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.

when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.

as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.

your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!

is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.

when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.

wait… love?

–

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.

note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @sylum @harrys-humble-housewife @blurazbabe @introverbatim @piperparker7 @graceberman3 @tommy-braccoli @fioooweeooweeeoo @conrad4life13

crossed out= not able to tag

[cryobabyy]

Cooper Adams x Fem!Reader

PART(3/5)

He was peculiarly clean— too clean to be at a hardware store past midnight. No dirt on his jeans, or janitor's name patch, or construction vest. He smelt like most men— Irish spring, sandalwood, musk, bergamot, etc. In daylight hours, you wouldn't have thought anything about his tight and fawning smile, the gallon of industrial cleaning solution, and the seven yards of vinyl tarp he slides across the counter at the end of the month. He always smiles when he pays. You smile back despite your intuition advising against it. Something about the interaction feels cold. God, you sound like your fucking father.

OR

You work the graveyard shift at a hardware store with extended hours to put you through pre-med. You meet a DILF who is definitely not The Butcher.

AN: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had a final, saw Trap again (I almost died), and then I kind of re-wrote like half of it lol, but here we are! Enjoy!

The last time you talked about your Father to anyone was when you discussed what his headstone would say with the Funeral home office lady. You hadn’t uttered a word about him since. Not to a therapist, not to a friend, not even your roommate. You used his life insurance policy to hire an estate clean-up company to empty the house, and you watched from the curb as men in hazmat suits brought out pile after pile of newspaper clippings, empty medication bottles, and old electronics. After that, the house was unrecognizable- an empty shell, save for the marks on the door of your childhood bedroom. Thin pencil lines climb toward the frame with your name, date, and height nestled next to each other. You threw the deed to the house and your keys in your car’s glove compartment, but you haven’t been inside since. If it was out of sight, it was out of mind. If you didn’t talk about it, it couldn’t hurt you.

A floodgate was opened that night the truth came flying out of your mouth. You were okay with never speaking about it again, but now you couldn’t stop. It was exhilarating to release even the tiniest fraction of what you had bottled up for two years, and Cooper's validation was intoxicating. It was so different than the suffocating sympathy and condolences from Dad’s neighbors, who watched from their porches as you struggled to talk him out of confronting the mailman about wiretapping his mailbox. You felt the stares in line at the grocery store. You heard the passing whispers about the suicide on Bleaker Ave. This town wouldn’t let you forget that you were tethered to tragedy.

Cooper was the first person to say something other than ‘Poor thing. What a shame’. A random man you barely knew was the first person to afford you the luxury of dignity. You weren’t aware you could be anything other than a victim until Cooper Adams started treating you like a normal person. Against your better judgment, you began to look forward to the smiles, corny jokes, and his tendency to overshare. 

You knew it was weird and wrong to befriend a married man like this. You couldn’t help but think about his wife, how she would feel if she knew her husband was using his lunch breaks to bring you food and ask about your day. The thought of his family used to be a comforting reminder that he wasn’t dangerous, but now it makes your stomach hurt. You tell yourself you aren’t doing anything wrong. It was just an unlikely friendship- nothing more. 

You get butterflies when he comes waltzing in with a muffin and a coffee.

Goddamit.

“Oat milk, three sugars, three creams. And somebody dropped these off for the guys today, so I snagged you one. It’s blueberry. Did you eat dinner today?” He sets down a steaming cup of coffee and a neatly saran-wrapped muffin. You meet his hazel eyes, and he stares back. For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Cooper furrows his brow, a smirk curling his lips.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t like blueberry.”

“You’re weird.” You scoff, unwrapping the confection and taking a bite.

“So you do like blueberry.” He mumbles pensively,  crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

“You know I’m at work, right? Like I’m supposed to be working?” You say through a mouthful of muffin. Cooper glances around the empty store before landing on you.

“Looks like I’m the only paying customer here, kid.” A sly smile spreads across his face, and your heart stutters like the engine of your shitty car. 

And just like that, he lulls you into another conversation. Cooper speaks in a way that makes you forget you’re telling him details about your life you’ve never told anyone before. He knows that you have a roommate you barely speak to and that you moved out when you were twenty. He's aware of how you took care of your Father during those final years and how he secretly stopped taking his medication. He knows about the guilt that consumed you for never noticing, for being too busy trying to build a life outside his chaos. You even told him you sometimes visit the house to check the mail. You'd sit on the curb across the street just to stare and remember when it was just a house and not a landmark for your grief.

“Why don’t you just sell it and use the money to buy your own place? The property value has probably skyrocketed since.” At this point in the conversation, Cooper has a stool pulled up to the counter, brows knitted together in concentration. He’s always asking you questions nobody’s ever cared to ask.

“I don’t know. I guess… If I get rid of it, it feels like I’m getting rid of him. He accused me of that all the time. He was convinced I turned against him.” You shrug, swirling around the last bit of coffee in your cup.

“I get it. My independence was like an insult to my mother. She hated my wife—said that she was taking me away from her. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I told her we were getting married.” He looks off into the distance as if he’s watching the memory unfold in front of him.

You see an opportunity, so you take it.

“How did you two meet?” You say slowly, cautiously testing the waters.

“Me and Rachel? I did a fire safety demo for the kids at the school where she was working. God, that was—what? Fifteen years ago? Things were so different then.” He trails off. There was something different in the timber of his voice—regret? You hold in a breath as he continues.

“A lot changes when you have kids. Years can pass, and you won’t notice how much you’ve grown apart. And then pretty soon, the kids are the only thing you have in common.” He stares for a moment longer before suddenly snapping out of his daze. 

“Sorry, am I oversharing?” He drags a big hand down his tired face, and you roll your eyes.

“I mean, I’m the one with the dead dad, so I think I have you one-upped on that.”

“You got me there.” He chuckles. You’re glad he’s not bothered by your inherent morbidity. It makes you feel normal.

There’s a thick pause. You glance upward to find Cooper staring at you, a strange expression on his face. No one’s ever looked at you like that before, and for a split second, you feel exposed. Like it was his first time really seeing you.

“What?”

“I just hope you know you’ll be okay.” 

You’re gearing up to brush it off with something witty, but Cooper beats you to it.

“No, seriously. You made it to the other side of all this— you made it out. And you’re still good. You didn’t turn it into something worse. You’re incredible—and I mean that. It’s inspiring.”

There’s no charming smile or trace of playfulness in his voice. You feel frozen, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. 

And then his gaze flickers to your mouth and lingers there for a moment too long. You watch him watch you, chest rising and falling, his expression tight. Like he’s holding something back. Your hands tingle with the desire to touch something. You feel the urge to reach out and grab something of his– his hand, the lapels of his jacket, the slope of his neck - and pull him into you. It still wouldn’t be close enough. If you could reach into his chest and hold his beating heart in your palm, you would.

And that terrifies you. 

Cooper clears his throat, swiftly standing from the stool. 

“Well, would you ook at that— lost track of time. I have to head back.” He mumbles, patting his jacket pockets to find his keys. Before you can even respond, he’s striding towards the door.

“Right. See you later, Cooper.” You busy yourself by throwing the empty coffee cup and the remains of the muffin in the trash.

He calls your name, snapping your attention to him again.

“You’ll be okay.” He repeats.

“I know.” 

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

You don’t see Cooper for an entire month after that. The entirety of October passes. You spend nights preparing for your midterm and ringing up PVC pipes, hammers, and plumbing snakes. You debate texting him, going back and forth between writing a paragraph apologizing for potentially crossing a line or a paragraph telling him off for disappearing. Both options never make it out of the notes app.

A definitive emotion hasn’t settled in your mind yet. Anger doesn’t feel justified. Rejection feels too assuming, and dejection hurts your pride. Every fleeting emotion feels blown out of proportion, so you try to feel nothing at all– because anything else would be fucking ridiculous.

Cooper was married. He had children. He had a life. And all you had were the moments of his spare time in between. You had nothing. You didn’t even have a reason to call him– until you did.

On the way home from the night shift, your car battery dies on a dark and empty backroad. Other than your roommate, you have only one other person to call.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you consider what you'll do if he doesn’t answer. Your racing heart makes your thumb shake.

It rings two times before he picks up.

After a month of radio silence, he pulls up in 30 minutes.

Seeing him exit the driver’s side door like nothing had changed is odd. The complicated feelings you’ve been fending off die in an instant and leave you feeling numb. He looked the same; maybe his hair was longer, just long enough for him to push behind his ears. When he walks toward you, you finally begin to feel something again– panic. Inside your mind, you’re frantically flipping through appropriate things to say. I missed you. Where the fuck have you been? Why?

He’s standing in front of you before you can decide.

“You alright?” He asks, his brow furrowed with concern. He looks to your old beat-up car, then to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s been stalling recently. I should have gotten it checked out sooner. Thanks for coming. I hate to bother you like this.” You can’t help but sound embarrassed. You had built this moment up in your imagination to be a staunch confrontation, but reality made you feel dumb. This was a grown man that had grown man shit to do other than play therapist with you. You felt small next to him like this. You regret not calling your roommate first.

“I’m happy to help. It’s cold—why don’t you wait in my car? It’s open.”

You wordlessly hand him your keys, grab your bag, and walk towards his car, leaning against the front hood instead. It was stupid, but the small act of defiance made you feel like you were still in control of the situation and, therefore, your feelings. Cooper takes a long look under the hood of your car before leaning into the driver's side and cranking the keys. The ignition clicks and whines but refuses to start. He sighs, trying a couple more times before shutting your car door and locking it.

“I brought jumping cables, but I don’t think I can do much to get it started. It could be more than your battery so It’s probably best to tow it. You’ll have to call your insurance and tell them to get it covered, but I can do the talking if you- ” 

For a moment, you’re possessed by the most jaded version of yourself. The words tumble from your mouth before you can understand them.

“Where have you been?” 

You regret it immediately.

Cooper sighs, closing his eyes and pushing his hair back. He pauses momentarily, thinking about how he'll handle the situation before returning to meet your gaze.

“I don’t think talking about that here is a good idea.” His tone is gentle but stern. It’s parentish and ignites the anger accumulating in you over the past month.

“That’s fucked up, Cooper. I’ve told you things I haven’t even said out loud, and now you get to decide when it is or isn’t a good idea for us to talk? It’s not fair—” 

“I know.”

“—It wasn’t even my idea! You softened me up! You kept coming back—“

“I know.”

“—You made me think I could trust you! You gave me something, and then you fucking took it away—who fucking does that?!”

He’s saying your name now. You were too worked up to notice that your cheeks were wet or that Cooper’s thumbs were wiping the tears away. You hadn’t cried in a year.

“It was wrong. I was wrong. I thought I could manage, but it was getting too close. What was happening between us, and who I am outside of that can never touch. I’m sorry.”

Your breathing slows. Cooper’s voice sounds distant, the warmth of his hands being the only thing grounding you. He’s so close now; you can see the flecks of green and brown along his iris. Your gaze drops to his mouth, lingering in the same way his eye lingered about a month ago. You can see the words forming around his lips. He repeats himself.

“I’m sorry.”

You feel a familiar urge again– the pull. This time, you almost give in. But something stops you. Cooper resists your pull.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it.” He warns.

You come to your senses, noticing the stinging sensation from the back of your thighs pressing against the hood of his car. It’s not enough to stop you from being at your weakest. 

“Please.” is all you can say. Your hands grip the collar of his sweater. He lets you, his resistance gradually softening until your mouth ghosts over his. 

“You have no idea what you’re asking for.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

It all happens so fast, his lips finally covering yours, his hands lifting you by the thighs and setting you down on the hood of his truck, your legs wrapping around him. Everything is brand new and intoxicating. The feeling of his hair between your fingers. Your arms around his neck, the hardness of his body against yours. It doesn’t take much for you to get lost in it. You feel Cooper lift you off the hood and walk around the side of his car. He flings open the passenger door and sets you on the leather seat.

“Tell me to stop.” He says in between the feverish back and forth of your lips, his hands sliding under your sweater to rest on the curve of your stomach. Heat pools between your thighs. You say nothing.

Cooper pulls away, leaving his hand underneath your shirt.

“This is what you want?” He’s looking down at you, hair in his eyes and mouth red and wet. You feel ashamed, but you nod anyway. Cooper’s hand gently pushes against your belly, beckoning you to lie down. Your chest heaves up and down, and your eyes flutter close. Cooper’s hands push up the sides of your waist, bringing your shirt with it. They travel over your ribs, his thumbs brush over your nipples through your thin bra. His warm breath ghosts just under your navel, lips peppering kisses right above your waistband. 

“I’ve been thinking about this. What you would look like under me. You look so pretty.” He smirks against your skin and uses a hand to undo a button on your jeans. Your eyes flutter back open.

The first thing you see is a splatter of dark red on the cloth ceiling of his car. You squint a bit, trying to pull your focus from what was going on below your waist. The little drops glisten in the dim glow of the interior cabin light. It looks wet.

Your blood runs cold. Your Father’s voice returns to you.

White picket fence motherfucker.

AO3

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[tevanavernus]

how about some angst for established bucktommy? i only got vibes for you: held at gunpoint on a call, one of them gets in between the gun and the other, wanting to shield them 👀❤️

[Thanks for the request! I see your angst and raise you: they're both idiots trying to protect each other. Hope you like this! Also, they're still...technically on call right? ❤️]

In hindsight, Tommy should have known the other shoe would eventually drop. He should have prepared himself for it, should have anticipated that the universe wouldn't let happiness linger around him for too long. But it was easy to forget, wrapped up in Evan's orbit, with his blinding grins and the way he wore his heart so openly on his sleeve. It made Tommy drop his guard, lulled him into a sense of security.

That's not to say it was all sunshine and smiles. They had their bad days—days when they got snappy with each other or when an argument dragged on for longer than it should. There were cold shoulders, fueled by pride or stubbornness, but those days never lasted long. One of them always caved, and they'd find their way back to each other, realizing that whatever it was just wasn't worth staying mad over. It had taken Evan a while to truly believe that Tommy wasn't going anywhere, but eventually, even he came to accept it.

So now, a year after their failed first date, Tommy's old house was cluttered with moving boxes and scattered belongings, as they tried to find permanent spots for Evan's things. The chaos drove Tommy a little insane, having to step over things and deal with the mess of combining their lives. But if it meant Evan was in his bed every night? It was more than worth it in Tommy's opinion.

The morning, though, should have been the first clue that the day was about to turn to shit.

Evan had an early shift, so by the time Tommy woke up, his side of the bed was cold—a sure deduction of points right off the bat. Then came the next blow: apparently, Evan had left in a rush and, in doing so, had used up the last of the oat milk. Which meant Tommy was now doomed to drink black coffee. He'd sighed in resignation as he spotted the sticky note attached to the fridge that read, "Sorry babe, I'll buy more after shift! Ily <3"—but pocketed it for safekeeping despite the frustration. Sure, it was a small inconvenience. But still, it set the tone, didn't it? Little things tend to pile up.

The biggest clue? The storm. It was meant to be stormy all day, and in Tommy's experience—other than meeting Evan—storms never led to anything good, especially for Harbour. People tended to get careless, acting like they weren't facing weather they were completely unprepared for.

Tommy's instincts were proven right when, not even halfway through his shift, they were called out to a massive pileup on the highway. Multiple vehicles were involved, and dozens of people needed transport to hospitals. So, as always, Tommy did what he did best: jumped into a helicopter and flew out to the scene with his team.

From the bird's-eye view, he hissed in sympathy at the sight. The wreckage was bad—mangled metal, cars overturned, and scattered debris everywhere. It wasn't pretty. But there wasn't time to dwell on that. As soon as they touched down, his team sprang into action.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the familiar 118 number at the scene. Over the past year, he and Evan had crossed paths at work more often than either had probably anticipated, but never for anything small. When Harbour and the 118 were both on-site, it usually meant there was no time to spare, not even for a quick hello.

Tommy knew how this went. Most of the time, he didn't even leave the cockpit while his team prepped patients for transport. And today wasn't any different. He stayed put, eyes scanning the scene, focusing on his job. He sighed, knowing he'd have to wait until they were home to talk to Evan. Though, for a brief moment, he thought he saw a familiar pair of wet curls rushing through the chaos, the saw in hand.

It wasn't until the fourth round trip that the storm really began to pick up, and Tommy found himself battling the wind and gusts of rain to safely land on the hospital's helipad. The helicopter shook slightly as the weather worsened, and Tommy had to grip the controls a little tighter, to guide the aircraft down through the increasingly erratic winds.

Just as they touched down, the call came in over his headset to ground them. The storm had escalated to the point where it wasn't safe to fly anymore. Tommy let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that even though it was the right call, it meant he wouldn't be able to get back to the scene. Grounded meant he would be stuck in the hospital, waiting out the weather.

His thoughts drifted back to Evan—out there in the middle of it. So, when Tommy was the last one in the helicopter, he took a moment to pull out his phone, hoping for a text or update. But the screen was empty. No messages, no missed calls. He knew he shouldn't worry—Evan had handled worse, and a storm was just another part of the job. But despite that knowledge, his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

Tommy pocketed the phone, feeling a bit ridiculous for worrying so much. He exited the helicopter, and even in the quick dash to the hangar door, the rain managed to half-drench him. His pilot suit clung uncomfortably to his skin, the chill seeping in. He grimaced, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

"Great," he muttered to himself, shivering slightly as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. From there, he navigated the labyrinth of hallways, heading down toward the ED. After years on the job, Tommy had learned a few secrets from some of the nurses—like the fact that the coffee in the cafeteria near the ED was much better than what they had in other wings of the hospital.

It seemed like luck was on his side when Tommy noticed the familiar set of curls hunched over the nurse's station as he entered the ED. Evan hadn't noticed him yet, which gave Tommy a moment to take in the sight—completely drenched, looking like a wet rat after being caught in the storm. Tommy had to bite back a laugh at how disheveled he looked.

"Hey, handsome," Tommy grinned as he slunk up to where Evan stood.

Evan jumped slightly, glancing up from his notes. His expression softened into a tired but genuine smile, water still dripping from his curls.

"Hey yourself," he said, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "What are you still doing here?

"Dropped off the last patient. We're grounded for now, thanks to the weather," Tommy replied with a shrug.

"You've got time?" Evan asked, his voice a little too eager as his eyes darted around the busy ED. "I could probably make up some excuse with Bobby... We could grab coffee?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Is my coffee going to have some milk this time?"

Evan gave him a sheepish grin, stepping closer until their shoulders nearly brushed. Without hesitation, he reached out and laced his fingers through Tommy's. "I promise, I'll grab some on the way home."

Home. Tommy felt that familiar flutter in his chest at the word again. Evan had started to throw it around more casually lately, and each time it hit Tommy in a way he wasn't quite used to. It made everything feel more real—not just some wishful daydream Tommy conjured up when his place felt too lonely with only him in it.

"Mhm, I have that in writing too," Tommy reminded him playfully, squeezing Evan's hand. "But, yeah, I've got time."

Just overhead, a loud roar of thunder echoed through the hospital, followed by a sharp crack of lightning that struck somewhere nearby. A moment later, the lights began to flicker and dim, casting the hall in an eerie, unstable glow. Instinctively, Tommy looked up at the ceiling, his grip on Evan's hand tightening ever so slightly.

"Great," Evan muttered, his gaze following Tommy's, as the lights struggled to stabilize. "Just what we needed—a power outage in the middle of all this."

"The generators should kick in any moment now," Tommy mumbled, more to himself than to Evan, his eyes still fixed on the flickering lights above. They stopped flickering.

When Tommy would look back at that moment, guilt-ridden as he replayed the events over and over in his mind, he would think of all the things he should have done. He should have grabbed Evan's hand and dragged him right out of the hospital, ignoring every instinct as a firefighter and instead said, "Screw it". He should have known, sensed it—should have put Evan first, before everything went sideways.

Except, he didn't.

When the shouts and screams erupted from a room somewhere to the side, Tommy didn't do any of those things. Instead, he frowned, shared a look with Evan, and stayed put by the nurse's station.

His mind went into a familiar mode: assess, analyze, act. The screams grew louder, panicked voices echoing off the sterile walls, but neither of them moved just yet. They were waiting, watching, gauging the situation. And then, there was no more time.

The next second, a commotion erupted from a nearby room. A shuffle broke out as one man pushed another through the door. Chaos spilled into the hallway. Tommy vaguely heard a nurse's voice shout, urgent:

"Security! Code silver! Active threat in the ED!"

And then a bang.

Tommy blinked against the brief, blinding flash of light that followed, and before he could process what was happening, a body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Tommy froze. For a split second, everything around him blurred—the gunshots, the chaos, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. It was a moment he'd never fully forgive himself for. His feet were rooted to the floor as security rushed past them, but it didn't matter. The gun was still raised, and another shot rang out.

Another body hit the ground.

The shattering of glass, splintering into a million pieces, finally snapped him back to reality.

Evan was already moving, ripping his hand from Tommy's grip and dropping to the ground to check on the security guard who had fallen. Tommy's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself into action, his mind racing to catch up as adrenaline surged through his veins.

A scuffle broke out, the chaos intensifying as some people scrambled to evacuate while few of the staff rushed to help the injured.

For a moment, Tommy lost sight of Evan, the blur of bodies clouding his vision. His heart lurched painfully in his chest, panic clawing at him as he scanned the area frantically, searching for that familiar figure amid the chaos.

He didn't see as the shooter grabbed someone in a choke-hold, with a gun raised to their head. His attention was set somewhere else.

"Evan!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he finally spotted him crouched. Relief surged through him, but it was short-lived. Just as Tommy moved to get to him, the shooter's attention snapped toward them.

The man's gaze locked onto Evan, and in that split second, Tommy's blood ran cold.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Evan exclaimed, raising his arms slowly, palms open. "We're firefighters! We can help!"

"No, no. Only one of you," he said finally, his voice shaky but determined as he waved the gun between the woman he was holding and their general direction.

Tommy's stomach dropped, a sense of dread settling in like ice in his veins. The shooter was barely in control, panicked and irrational, and every movement felt like it could tip things into disaster. This was spiraling, fast, and Tommy knew it was only going to get worse.

He was no stranger to guns. He'd grown up seeing them in his father's hands, the man recklessly firing off rounds in their backyard when temper mixed with alcohol took over. He'd seen guns in the military, had been trained with them, witnessed firsthand what they could do. He saw it almost daily in the gunshot victims he transported at the back of the chopper - too many lives torn apart by bullets. He had become desensitized to it, to the violence they brought.

If it was pointed at him, his pulse likely wouldn't even spike. His hands wouldn't shake.

But this was different.

Now, his pulse thundered in his ears, and his hands trembled with an intensity that terrified him, because the gun wasn't aimed at him. Instead it was dangerously close to pointing at the one person who meant everything to him— Evan.

The love of his life.

"Okay," Tommy finally managed to force out, though his voice wasn't quite steady. "What do you want?"

The man growled, his eyes wild and darting around the room. "How do I lock the doors?"

A nurse, her hands trembling, hurriedly pulled out a pair of keys from a drawer and held them out, showing them to the man. Tommy's heart sank; it meant their only exit was about to be cut off. The situation was rapidly closing in on them, both figuratively and literally.

But as the shooter's focus shifted toward the nurse, instructing her to do it, Tommy saw it—an opening, a brief moment of distraction.

Without thinking twice, he moved closer to Evan, subtly shifting his stance so he was positioned just enough to shield Evan from a clear shot, should the man spiral even further and snap.

He wasn't sure if Evan noticed the shift, and he didn't care. If something went wrong, he wasn't going to let Evan be the one in the line of fire. If he had to, he'd gladly take the hit first.

There was no universe, no reality in which he'd allow himself to be standing with his hands covered in Evan's blood today. Not ever.

"Tommy," Evan hissed quietly beside him.

Ah, so he did notice. But Tommy didn't dare glance at him, didn't risk looking into Evan's eyes and seeing the concern—or worse, the fear—there. There was too much at stake to get distracted, and Evan was his weak spot. Seeing those emotions would break his focus, distract him—and distractions could get them both killed.

"Hey, they can see where I... They're going to shoot me!" the shooter yelled, panic creeping into his voice.

'Yeah, no shit,' Tommy thought briefly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But he stayed silent.

"Hey, you!" The shooter's focus snapped back to them, and Tommy's shoulders tensed, his body instinctively shifting just a little more in front of Evan. "I have to cover the windows! What do I use?"

"I don't know." Tommy replied curtly, his voice clipped.

"How about- how about the sheets?" Tommy took a glance where he gestured toward one of the rooms "Alright, they have lots of those, right? Do it. Now."

Tommy's stomach twisted. He didn't have much choice, but still, he hesitated. His eyes flickered to Evan, who was still on the ground, kneeling next to the security guard as he tried to put pressure on the wound in the shoulder. Moving now would leave Evan completely exposed, utterly vulnerable.

If anything went wrong, if the shooter spiraled even further, Evan wouldn't stand a chance. Not even if he had the fastest reflexes in the world.

It would be an execution.

For a split second, Tommy's world shrunk, zeroing in on that one horrifying thought, the fear tightening its grip on his heart.

But the thought of that combined with Evan—his Evan—didn't compute in Tommy's mind. His brain outright refused to entertain the idea and his body locked up as if physically rejecting the command.

Whether the shooter noticed Tommy's hesitation or simply felt the walls closing in on him, he made a sudden move, shoving the woman he was holding toward Tommy and ordered her to help him.

Fuck.

Tommy finally moved, with a heavy heart, every step feeling like he was walking through a minefield that he might set off with one wrong step. His every instinct screamed at him to stay, to protect Evan, but he had no choice

It felt like betrayal, stepping away from Evan.

Almost like an out-of-body experience, Tommy moved mechanically, helping the woman as they covered the windows, sealing off any visibility into the room and sucking out all the oxygen.

The doctor with the first victim started to talk with the shooter, pulling his attention away. Tommy crept back to Evan, without taking his eyes off the shooter, Tommy squatted down beside Evan. His hand found Evan's instinctively—like it always did—and he squeezed it tightly. Whether it was to reassure Evan or to ground himself, he couldn't tell. Maybe both.

"Listen, I just want to get my girlfriend out of here. I don't want to hurt anybody else, but I will if you get in my way." The shooter's voice wavered as he spun around, his eyes wild and desperate. His gaze locked back onto them, and Tommy felt his muscles tense.

"Hey, you. Back where you were," the man barked, gesturing toward Tommy.

Tommy hesitated, his grip on Evan's hand tightening.

"It's okay. Go," Evan mumbled softly, when Tommy made no move. Tommy glanced down, eyes locking with Evan's for a brief moment, silently pleading for something. To tell him to stay? Maybe?

"Go," Evan repeated, more firmly this time, giving Tommy's hand a squeeze before letting go.

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tight as he slowly stood, feeling the warmth of Evan's hand slip away. Taking a breath that felt too shallow, he stepped away, forcing his feet to move back to where the shooter had pointed.

Tommy's blood ran cold as the gun swung in Evan's direction, the finger on the trigger making his heart lurch painfully in his chest. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

"You!" the shooter barked, voice harsh and desperate. "Get those cuffs. Now."

Tommy's pulse roared in his ears, panic clawing at him, but he forced himself to stay still, forced himself to swallow the instinct to rush forward.

"Take it easy," Evan said, his voice steady despite the danger. He reached for the cuffs, holding them up for the shooter to see. "I'm getting them. Just... take it easy."

"Cuff him to that desk."

Tommy flinched as the cold metal of the cuff locked around his wrist. He glanced down, frowning in confusion. The metal bit into his skin, his arm instinctively tugging against it, testing for any give. But before he could react further, another click echoed in the air—Evan securing the second cuff to the desk.

Tommy's heart dropped.

And then he felt it—Evan's hand briefly wrapping around his forearm. The words that followed were barely a whisper, soft but devastating.

"I love you," Evan murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

A wave of panic and dread crashed over Tommy, his throat tightening painfully. He shook his head, eyes burning as he met Evan's gaze.

"Don't," Tommy choked out, his voice strained. Don't say it like that. Please.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out from one of the nearby rooms—the same one where the shooter had come from originally. The noise set the man off. He jerked in response, taking several threatening steps closer to them, his movements frantic and unpredictable.

And Tommy couldn't do a damn thing. He couldn't move, couldn't act—his wrist still cuffed to the desk, helpless to stop what was about to happen. He could only watch Evan, without hesitation, moved in front of him, his arm stretching out protectively, shielding Tommy with his own body.

Of course Evan did. Evan, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, who rushed headfirst into things without thinking it through. Evan, who seemed to believe it was his responsibility to protect everyone.

Tommy loved him.

Tommy would never forgive him for this. For being so fucking reckless. As if Tommy needed his protection more than he need him. As if he wasn't Tommy's entire world.

But then the shooter spun around, distracted, pacing erratically as he moved in and out of the room. He could feel Evan tense beside him, could see the wheels turning in his head. His hart seized with paralyzing fear.

"Evan," Tommy hissed, grabbing at his arm, his grip tight with desperation. "Don't. Don't do anything stupid."

Tommy would plead if he needed to. He'd drop to his knees and beg if it meant Evan would stand down. Because he knew Evan. Knew how his mind worked, how he was wired. Evan wasn't the type of man to stand by and do nothing. He wasn't someone who waited for the danger to pass; he ran into it.

And Tommy couldn't lose him. Not like this. Not now, not when they had just really started building their lives together. Not ever.

His grip tightened on Evan's arm, his fingers digging into his skin, until Evan had no choice but to look at him. Evan's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Didn't move. Not yet.

And Tommy clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline. Even if he knew, deep down, that it was false.

For a fleeting moment, it was nice. Almost comforting.

It last all of a few minutes.

Because the next time the shooter passed by them, Evan, honest to God, lunged at the man.

Tommy's heart stopped.

"No!" Tommy's shout ripped from his throat before he even realized it.

The time stood still.

Tommy's eyes were wide open, unblinking, but it was as if he couldn't see. Maybe it was because Evan's back was turned to him, as he wrestled with the shooter for the gun. Maybe it was because Tommy's mind was too busy processing the raw sound of his own voice—hoarse and desperate—screaming as he pulled against the cuffs with every ounce of strength he had. Or maybe, he did see everything but his brain, in its cruel mercy, refused to let him process it.

It was too much. Too loud. Too fast.

Another bang erupted, deafening in the enclosed space, and Tommy's world stopped.

A body dropped to the floor.

The world tilted on its axis, and Tommy's breath hitched. His heart stopped for one agonizing second.

No. No.

Hands were suddenly on his face, trying to steady him, trying to make him focus. But Tommy couldn't. He flinched at the touch, his body trembling violently, too overwhelmed to respond. He shook his head, refusing to let the scene before him solidify into anything real.

He couldn't look. Couldn't force himself to look.

"Breathe, baby, breathe." Evan's voice cut through the haze, repeating the words like a mantra. "Breathe."

Tommy choked in a ragged breath, his chest tight and painful as the words slowly registered. He blinked, and slowly, too slowly, the world began to come back into focus. Evan was there, right in front of him, alive and breathing, with his hands still cupping Tommy's face, trying to steady him.

Tommy's hands instinctively reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real, even though there were specks of blood splattered across Evan's skin. But the cuffs yanked him back, cutting his reach short. A pitiful sound escaped him, more like a wounded animal than a man.

Evan did it for him, closing the gap, he wrapped himself around Tommy and buried his face in Tommy's neck. It took Tommy longer than it should have to wrap his free arm around Evan, to actually feel his warmth, his solid presence. To know he was really there.

"You're okay," Evan murmured into his neck, his breath warm against Tommy's skin. Soft lips pressed into his neck, bringing a flicker of warmth back into his cold, numb body. "We're okay."

"I hate you," Tommy whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking.

"No, you don't," Evan hummed back, his tone matter-of-fact.

Tommy let out a trembling choked out laugh, his body sagging. "No, I don't," he admitted quietly, finally squeezing Evan tighter.

There were so many things he wanted to say, things he needed to say. He will tell Evan how much he loved him. He will berate him for doing something so stupid, so dangerous. He will make sure Evan didn't leave his sight for days, maybe weeks.

But all that would come later. After his heart stopped racing like it was about to leap out of his chest. After his mind could fully register that Evan was here, alive, and okay.

Because there was an after.

[ ps: This was heavily inspired by an episode of Chicago Med, credit is where it's due]