#i had this in drafts for months. found this on my drive one day and was like ok let's finish it so made the remaining three gifs

[leqclerc]

Charles and Sebastian + I Go Crazy ↳ Oh won’t somebody hold me and tell me it’ll all work out Say that there’s nothing to worry about now ‘Cause I’m so sick of the drama and I hate to shout But you drag it out of me * Three words, two hearts, one maybe Say something before I go crazy now My tears, your fears, amaze me But I’m still so devoted to you, it scares me

[pennyellee]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of  'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?" 

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled. 

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.” 

You only smiled wickedly into his lips. 

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively. 

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[favefandomimagines]

Fearless (e.b)

Summary: you take a chance and finally tell Buck you have a daughter

AN: had this one in the drafts for a hot minute

Evan "Buck" Buckley was no stranger to surprises. Being a firefighter meant facing the unexpected every day. But nothing had ever made his heart race quite like Y/N.

They had been seeing each other for a few months now, and every moment with her had been exhilarating. Whether it was casual coffee dates, late-night drives, or those stolen kisses between laughter, Buck found himself falling—fast. Y/N had this light about her, this warmth that made him feel at home.

But there was something she hadn’t told him yet.

She had a four-year-old daughter.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Buck. In fact, she liked him more than she expected to. But that was exactly why she had hesitated to tell him. Her daughter was her world, and any man who wanted to be with her had to understand that they were a package deal. What if Buck wasn’t ready for that?

Tonight, she would find out.

||

The evening air was crisp, as Buck and Y/N sat side by side on a park bench. Their dinner—a couple of burgers and fries from a food truck—was mostly finished, save for the few stray fries Buck kept stealing from Y/N’s tray. The city lights flickered in the distance, and laughter from a nearby playground filled the silence between them.

But Y/N wasn’t laughing.

She was fidgeting, picking at the edge of her napkin, her mind racing. She had been holding onto this secret for weeks, unsure of how to bring it up. The longer she waited, the harder it became. But tonight, she had promised herself—no more waiting.

Buck, oblivious to her internal turmoil, nudged her playfully with his shoulder. “Alright, spill it. You’ve been quiet all night, and that’s not like you.” His blue eyes searched hers, concern flickering in them. “Did I do something?”

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “No, Buck, you didn’t do anything. I just… I need to tell you something.”

His posture straightened slightly, but his expression remained open, patient. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Y/N’s hands twisted in her lap. She had run through this moment a hundred times in her head, each scenario ending differently. Would he be surprised? Would he panic? Would he walk away?

She couldn’t stall any longer.

“I have a daughter,” she said softly. “Her name is Maeve. She’s four.”

For the first time since she met Buck, she saw him speechless. He blinked once, then twice, his lips parting as if to say something, only to stop himself.

Her heart pounded. “I should’ve told you sooner, I know that. But I was scared. You and I… we have something really good, and I didn’t want to scare you off.” She swallowed hard. “She’s my whole world, Buck. And if we keep seeing each other, I need you to know that Maeve and I are a package deal.”

The silence stretched, and Y/N felt the weight of it pressing down on her. Then, just as she was bracing for the worst—

Buck smiled.

A slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “You have a daughter,” he repeated, as if trying to let the words settle. Then, his grin widened. “That’s amazing.”

Y/N blinked. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” Buck leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I mean, I won’t lie—I wasn’t expecting it. But it’s not a bad thing, Y/N. It just means…” He paused, his voice lowering. “It just means there’s two of you to love.”

Her breath hitched. “Love?”

His expression softened as he reached for her hand. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I love you, Y/N.”

A rush of emotion swelled in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “You do?”

He squeezed her fingers. “Of course I do. You’re incredible. And I bet Maeve is just as amazing as her mom.”

Tears burned behind her eyes. “I love you too, Buck.”

His smile turned into a full grin, but then his brows furrowed slightly. “Can I ask… what about her dad?”

Y/N let out a slow breath. “He was… just a fling. We were young, and when I told him I was pregnant, he said he wasn’t ready to be a dad. He walked away, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

Buck’s jaw tightened. “He just left?”

She nodded.

Buck shook his head, his voice laced with disbelief. “I don’t get it. I don’t know how anyone could walk away from you.” His grip on her hand tightened slightly. “From her.”

His words sent a warmth through Y/N she hadn’t expected. For years, she had been the only one fighting for Maeve, the only one carrying the weight of it all. And now, here was Buck, looking at her like she was the most incredible thing in the world—like Maeve was a gift, not a burden.

She exhaled shakily. “So… you’re really okay with this?”

Buck laughed softly. “Y/N, I’ve run into burning buildings, faced explosions, even been struck by lightning.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But nothing scares me more than losing you. And if loving you means loving your daughter too, then I’m all in.”

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Buck leaned in, brushing a tender kiss against her forehead. “I meant what I said. You’re a package deal.” His lips curled into a smirk. “I just hope she likes me.”

Y/N laughed through her tears. “I think she’s going to love you.”

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t in this alone anymore

||

The 118’s annual Trunk or Treat event was in full swing, the firehouse parking lot transformed into a Halloween wonderland. Rows of cars were decorated with spooky themes—one looked like a giant, open-mouthed monster, another was decked out in glowing ghosts, and one trunk had a full haunted house setup inside.

Buck had been looking forward to this night all week. Tonight, he would finally meet her—Maeve.

He wasn’t nervous. Well, okay, maybe a little. It wasn’t every day you met the most important person in the life of the woman you loved. And as much as Y/N had reassured him that Maeve would love him, Buck couldn’t help but feel the pressure.

“She’s going to love you,” Y/N said for what had to be the tenth time that evening. She squeezed his hand gently as they talked about the event.

Buck gave her a sideways grin. “You sure? What if she takes one look at me and decides I’m the worst?”

Y/N laughed. “She’s four. As long as you’re fun and give her candy, you’re good.”

“Well, lucky for her, I happen to be an expert in fun.”

At that moment, Buck saw her.

A tiny girl in a sparkly princess dress, clutching Y/N’s hand as they approached the event. She had the same curious eyes as her mother, scanning the crowd with excitement.

Y/N crouched beside her. “Sweetheart, remember I told you about my friend, Buck?”

Maeve tilted her head, eyeing him carefully. “Like a deer?”

Buck chuckled. “Yeah, kinda like a deer.” He knelt down to her level, offering a small wave. “Hey there, Maeve. I love your costume.”

The little girl studied him, then looked up at Y/N as if silently asking for permission to engage. When her mother gave an encouraging nod, Marve turned back to Buck. “You can be my friend if you have candy.”

Buck let out a loud laugh. “Oh, you drive a hard bargain, huh?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fun-size pack of M&Ms. “Does this get me a deal?”

Maeve’s eyes lit up. She grabbed the candy, clutching it to her chest before grinning up at him. “Okay. You can be my friend now.”

Y/N’s heart melted at how easily Buck fit into this moment, his natural charm easing any tension she had feared.

“Alright, Princess,” Buck said as he stood, “we’ve got some serious trunk-or-treating to do. Where do we start?”

Maeve grabbed his hand—just like that, no hesitation—and pulled him toward the first decorated car.

For the next hour, Buck was completely wrapped around the little girl’s finger.

He lifted her onto his shoulders so she could see the best decorations, even letting her steer him in different directions by tugging at his hair like he was a horse.

He played along when she made him “knock” on each car trunk before she collected candy, as if it were a real house.

When she wanted to stop and take a break, he sat crisscross on the pavement beside her, listening intently as she rambled about her favorite cartoons.

Y/N stood back for a moment, watching the two of them interact. Maeve had always been careful with new people, but with Buck, it was effortless. The way she clung to his hand, the way she giggled at his silly faces—it was like he had been part of their lives all along.

Then came the pumpkin painting station.

The firefighters had set up a long table with tiny pumpkins and an array of paints, encouraging the kids to get creative. Maeve was immediately drawn to the activity, insisting that Buck paint a pumpkin with her.

“What should I paint?” Buck asked, eyeing the small orange canvas in front of him.

Maeve thought for a moment, then gasped. “A fire truck!”

Buck’s eyes widened. “Okay, uh, I’ll try.”

Y/N sat beside them, chuckling as Buck attempted to turn his pumpkin into a fire engine. It was… not his best work. The lines were crooked, and the wheels were two uneven black circles.

Maeve stared at it for a long moment before patting Buck’s arm. “It’s okay. Mommy’s bad at drawing too.”

Y/N gasped, placing a hand on her chest in mock offense. “Excuse me?”

The little girl giggled, and Buck burst into laughter. “It’s fine. I know my strengths. Maybe I’ll just be the official candy holder instead of an artist.”

As the night wound down, Buck carried Maeve in his arms while she clung sleepily to a stuffed ghost she had won in one of the games.

Y/N brushed a few stray curls from her daughter’s forehead. “You ready to go home, baby?”

Maeve nodded against Buck’s shoulder before lifting her head to look at him. “Are you coming too?”

Buck’s heart clenched. He glanced at Y/N, whose eyes softened.

“I’ll see you soon, Princess,” he promised, gently setting her down.

Maeve hesitated, then suddenly threw her arms around his leg in a tight hug. “Okay. But don’t forget.”

Buck knelt down, ruffling her hair. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As Y/N led her daughter toward the car, she turned back to look at Buck. “You were amazing tonight.”

Buck grinned. “I told you I’m great with kids.”

Y/N stepped closer, lowering her voice. “It wasn’t just that. You made her feel safe, Buck. You made her feel like she matters.”

His expression turned serious. “She does matter.” He swallowed, searching Y/N’s gaze. “You both do.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, reaching up to cup his face. “I know.”

Buck leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “Go get your Princess home,” he murmured.

Y/N smiled. “See you soon?”

“Count on it.”

As Buck watched them drive away, he realized something—he wasn’t just falling for Y/N.

He was falling for both of them

||

One year later…

The weather was warm as Buck stood outside Y/N’s house, the house that quickly became his home, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. His heart pounded a little faster than usual, but it wasn’t nerves—not exactly. It was something deeper. Something that made his chest feel tight in the best way possible.

Because tonight, he wasn’t just here to see Y/N.

He was here for her—Maeve, who had stolen his heart just as quickly as her mother had.

It had been a year since that night at Trunk or Treat, the night Buck had first met Maeve. Since then, he had become part of their world. Late-night bedtime stories, Saturday morning pancakes, dance parties in the living room—he had been there for all of it.

And now, he was about to ask a very important question.

Taking a deep breath, Buck knocked on the door. A few seconds later, tiny, hurried footsteps pattered against the floor before the door swung open.

Maeve grinned up at him, her hair slightly messy from running around the house. “Buck!” she squealed, throwing her arms around his legs in a tight hug.

Buck laughed, scooping her up into his arms. “Hey, Princess. What are you up to?”

“I was coloring!” she announced proudly. “Mommy said you were coming over, and I made you a picture.”

“Oh yeah? Can I see it?”

She nodded eagerly, wriggling out of his arms and running toward the couch. Buck followed, taking a seat as she handed him a piece of paper.

The drawing was adorable—three stick figures holding hands, with "Mommy + Me + Buck" written in shaky letters above their heads.

Buck’s heart swelled.

“You made this for me?” he asked.

She nodded. “Because you’re my family too.”

That was it. The moment he knew—this was exactly where he was meant to be.

Buck took a deep breath, shifting so he was facing her. “Hey, Princess… can I ask you something really important?”

She tilted her head, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “Like a secret?”

“Kind of,” Buck chuckled. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a sparkling ring.

The little girl gasped. “It’s so pretty!”

Buck smiled. “I think so too. But here’s the thing—I need your help.”

“With what?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Well,” Buck said gently, “I love your mommy very much, and I want to ask her to marry me. But before I do that, I need to make sure you think it’s okay. Because I don’t just want to be her husband—I want to be your dad too.”

Her little mouth fell open. “You wanna be my daddy?”

Buck swallowed hard, his voice thick with emotion. “Yeah, I do. I love you and your mommy more than anything. And if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to be part of your family forever.”

For a second, Maeve just stared at him.

Then, she let out the biggest gasp and launched herself at him, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. “YES!” she shrieked. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Buck laughed, squeezing her tightly. “You mean it?”

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her face serious. “Only if I get to be in the wedding.”

Buck grinned. “Princess, you can be whatever you want in the wedding.”

The little girl giggled before suddenly gasping again. “Wait! Mommy doesn’t know yet! We have to go tell her!”

Before Buck could respond, she was already sprinting down the hallway, yelling, “MOMMY! BUCK HAS A QUESTION FOR YOU!”

Buck chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he stood up. Well, that wasn’t exactly how he planned it… but honestly?

It was perfect.

[canthelpit0]

Dacryphilia

[prev. Unreleased from kinktober 2024]

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 3.6K+

Summary: 4 times Chris gets aroused at your crying, and 1 time he does something about it. (Sort of?)

Warnings: smut, fantasizing, crying, sweet!chris, refer has a naval piercing, porn with a lot of plot, voice kink, praise kink

A/N: bear in mind, this is old. It was originally for the kinktober series but since I gave up on that…. Anyway. This was written 12.05.2024, so it’s just been sitting in my drafts for a while.

00.

You and chris met at a party. It was just a month after Chris had moved to LA with his brothers.

You were both influencers and had collabed a few times before.

01.

The first time it happened Chris didn’t think anything of it.

Your boyfriend, who you had been dating for over a year had cheated on you.

Chris had met the guy once, and as soon as he had he hadn’t liked him.

Tho who was he to tell you he didn’t like your boyfriend, when you’ve been dating him for literally longer than you’ve known chris.

When you found out that your dear boyfriend was cheating on you, the first thing you did after breaking up with him and screaming, telling him to never talk to you again, was drive to the triplets house.

You wanted to see your best friends.

Even tho you’ve only known them for a few months they were one of the only genuine people in LA

You were crying in nicks arms, hysterically sobbing, and all Nick could do is be glad that you didn’t crash your car on the way here.

Matt, who’d been in the kitchen came to the living room faster than Chris.

And while Matt and Nick were doing a fine job calming you down, trying to get you to explain what happened without hyperventilating, as soon as Chris was there all the work was out of the window.

As soon as you spotted Chris at the top of the stairs and now in the living room, you ran over to him and hugged him.

He hugged you back letting you bury your face in the corner of his neck and sob into his shirt.

Chris felt a wave of dread and sadness wash over him. That was until he gently pulled your face out of his chest and looked at you.

Your eyes red and puffy. You had tear streaks running down your red-tinted cheeks. Your lips were red and puffy. You had that adorable yet sexy pout on your lips. Your eyebrows were low. your eyes narrowed in sadness.

You had no right to look that hot right now.

Chris wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t help but scan your features again.

Your mascara being waterproof only fell in black tiny little clumps. A bit of it smeared at the corner of one of your eyes lower lashes.

Chris hadn’t really ever seen a woman cry. He’s never dated anyone, so he’s just never made a woman cry. At least not that he knew of.

He tilts his head at you as if examining your face even more. You think you’re imagining it when you see his pupils dilate. You blink up at him.

The way he’s staring at you seems so outlandish that it makes you curious. Curious enough to make you momentarily forget about your sorrow.

Chris blinks seeing that your tears stopped. Seeing that you weren’t sobbing anymore. After a slight pause he snaps out of it.

Having sexual thoughts was one thing.

But having sexual thoughts about his best friend who was crying was a whole Nother thing.

In the end you started crying again while explaining what had happened.

02.

Chris was borderline scared of himself for thinking like that.

Well not really scared, but he was weirded out by himself.

You weren’t one to cry easily.

Yet today had been a horrible day.

You originally wanted to edit your newest video, just to have the revolution that the audio hadn’t picked up and that the entire 30 minutes of footage was useless.

You let go of it easily, simply sighing and letting it go.

You then decided to make yourself an iced coffee like you used to in 2020 for old times sake. The infamous whipped coffee.

When you started to use the frother on your mixture of instead coffee, sugar and hot water, you somehow managed to let the glass down out of your hands.

It landed on the floor with a loud crash and you jumped at the impact.

It wasn’t fun having to clean that up and the bottom of your pink satin pajama pants were slightly stained now.

But you sucked it up and reluctantly cleaned up.

You went to change and get ready for the day, you wore a cute button down you’d just gotten.

You walk out of your bedroom to the living room and have a mini heart attack thinking you lost your phone. Until you realized that it’s probably still in your bedroom, since you thought you took it with you.

Being clumsy as you are tho, while walking back into your bedroom you walk straight into the door handle. The door handle catches on your button down and rips off a button.

You groan. You end up searching for that damn button for too fucking long. You put the button on your desk already taking the top off to sow the button back later.

Then you remembered you were searching for your phone. So you searched every corner of your bedroom while still not wearing a top.

You decide it’s a problem for later and find yourself a new top that fits with your flared jeans.

These jeans were a little tight on you, but that meant that it just showed off your curves great. That was until you tripped on a stray sock.

You fell in a weird way. Your hands instinctively flying out to catch your body, wich caused you to twist your wrist.

With the pain in your wrist you hadn’t even heard the loud rip of your jeans.

You groan turning around to sit up. You instinctively cross your legs and hold your arm with your other arm. You sigh heavily letting your head fall forward.

When you open your eyes tho you notice a patch of skin peaking through your jeans. You pause pulling your arms out the way.

Your jeans had ripped along the seam on your inner thigh. You scoff, beyond done with today.

All you want to do at this point is go to bed and sleep, but after the iced coffee thing you’d texted Nick that you’d be coming over and you didn’t want to stand him up.

So you get up and take the jeans off once again changing your entire outfit. Then you have another mini heart attack and search for your phone.

After a while you give up and decide to go back to the living room, Your kitchen being open to the living room.

You suddenly hear the telltale sound of an iPhone notification. You look around only to see your phone blowing up on the counter of your kitchen.

After that everything goes smoothly. Well except for you consistently bumping into things.

You don’t know what’s up with you today, normally you’re not clumsy or prone to accidents at all.

Now you’re at the sturniolos house sitting in the couch. Nick had gone upstairs to change for some reason, and Matt and Chris had been in their rooms all day.

You feel thirsty and get up. You just have to go to the kitchen to get a drink, it’s not that hard-

You stub your toe. On the fucking couch table. You’d been overthinking so much, that you didn’t pay attention.

But instead of scoffing and playing it off like you have been all day you actually let out a cry at that.

It was like that was the last straw and the floodgates snap.

Chris who’d been on his way upstairs to get a Pepsi sees this unfold. He sees the way you double over in pain and start crying.

His immediate instinct is to rush up to you and ingulf you in a hug.

You weren’t really crying because you stubbed your fucking toe, you were crying because you suddenly felt every single bruise on your body that you had gained today from just bumping into shit.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed with the feelings you’d been pushing back all day.

“Sh, sh You’re okay.” Chris whispers sweetly. He lowers you both to the ground.

You sit on your legs your hand in his. It still hurt from when you fell on it earlier, you just felt it even more right now.

You let out a pathetic sob. You can’t help but look up at the ceiling trying to compose yourself.

Chris watches you with awe. He couldn’t help it. And he really felt confused of why he thought you were hot like this. A crying and sobbing mess on the floor.

Sure you were attractive, but why did he find this sight particularly arousing?

All he wanted to do was to cradle your face into the crook of his neck and whisper sweet nothings to you. And that’s just what he did.

He wanted to care for you, to soothe you and to make you calm down. He wanted to see your big glossy eyes right after you finally stopped crying.

03.

It was the week before your period. Your lower back was aching, it felt like a bunch of needles were being stabbed through you over and over.

You were feeling all emotional like you usually do the few days before your period.

The triplets were at your house once again.

They’d just invited themselves in with nicks spare key before you had woken up. You woke up just to see the three lounging in your living room and eating your snacks.

You didn’t even bat an eye at it.

You simply walk to your kitchen getting stuff for a toast ready.

Once you’re finished with preparing and making your food, you sigh. You lean against the counter plate in hand and take a bite of your warm toast feeling the cheese melt on your tongue.

Suddenly you hear Chris gasp. You look over, wich wasn’t hard since your kitchen is open to the living room.

You watch the way Chris jumps up from his seat on the couch and then proceeds to fumble around with something.

You just raise an eyebrow but keep eating your toast while it’s still warm.

You watch Chris walk around the kitchen island to you.

Chris holds out a small white paper bag. You put your plate on the counter and clap your hands together to get any and all crumbs off of them.

You swallow the food in your mouth “For me?” He nods simply.

You tenderly take the paper bag from his hands. It somehow looks fancy. You raise an eyebrow after peering into the paper bag.

You take out a small box. You slowly place the paper bag on the counter not bothering to take your eyes off of the small white box in your hands.

“Open it” he urges. Chris looks like he is about to jump out of his shoes. He’s practically radiating energy. He looks so excited.

Your eyes momentarily lock on Chris’. This was probably some jewelry, but what kind. Had he gotten you a ring, you’ve been needing some new ones in your collections. Or ear rings or-

Before you can think about it too much you’re already opening the box.

You’re greeted with the sight of jewelry for your belly button piercing. It’s cute silver jewelry with a Viviane Westwood chain dangling off of it.

Your eyes start to Involuntarily water.

You love Viviane Westwood. You had some cute earring, and when you had talked about wanting to buy the matching necklace Chris had given you his.

“When I saw this I thought of you” he explains rubbing the back of his neck slightly. He was mildly embarrassed. But it was a cute gesture.

You gently put the box on the counter next to the other stuff. You were aware that Viviane Westwood probably didn’t sell belly button rings, wich only means he’d probally gotten it off of Etsy or something.

Even tho you knew it was probably just stainless steel and not actual silver, it was the gesture, the idea that counts.

You look up at him with your teary eyes.

You wanted to damn your sappiness to hell right now, but that was probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, or at the very least that was the only thing you could think of.

You knew you probably looked like a mess. Your hair being messy, no make up on, your bottom lip quivering as you hold in tears. You were always an emotional train wreck a few days before your period starts.

“Thank you so much” you croak out.

Your vision is too blurred to notice but Chris is giving you that look again. He looks fond.

With a swift move, you wrap your arms around Chris’ neck and hug him. Out of instinct his hands go to your waist.

He sighs. “That’s so sweet” you let out under your breaths a chocked out sob following after.

You feel Chris’ arms wrap around your waist to pull you even closer.

He’d accepted it, he liked seeing you cry. Obviously he didn’t like seeing you sad, but he thought you were cute. You always were, even sobbing with mascara running down your face.

But seeing you cry out of happiness because of such a small gesture, a small gift Chris got you… that was a whole other high for him.

04.

Chris decided on a random Tuesday morning that he had nothing good to do. He felt incredibly bored.

So he decided to google random things that come to his mind.

Whether it be learning more about fish types going down the rabbit hole of the internet and what not.

He always googles random things he thought about to find out more about it so he could maybe talk about it in a car video or something.

Suddenly he thought about you and the few times he’s seen you crying.

He thought about it more, and it became apparent that he thought that crying was hot.

He googled his thoughts out in multiple diffrent ways. And at the end, the watered down version was “why do I find crying hot?”

He continued to lay in his bed semi intreated in what google had to say.

the first thing that popped up was a Wikipedia page with some title he couldn’t even pronounce.

So he continues scrolling trying to find the meaning of said word without having to klick on the link because he was too lazy to.

Dacryphilia (also known as dacrylagnia) is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing

He reads out in his head. “Huh?” Was literally all that went through his mind after reading that.

And the follow up question was “what the fuck is a paraphilia?”

So Chris went down a rabbit hole.

Chris figures out that Apparently philia is a Greek word that means “love”. Better yet, a paraphilia is apparently a non-normative sexual interest. - a fetish. Not really but almost.

The word ‘pedo-philia’ now makes a whole lot more sense. It’s a taboo fantasy. And it’s taboo for a reason ew.

Chris spirals from topic to topic almost forgetting why he even started this search.

Until he goes back in his history to read over the meaning of this thing again.

“I have a crying kink?” He says under his breath his eyes narrowed at the screen while he questions his life and everything that got him to this point.

Chris wrecks his brain to think. It’s like his brain is empty trying to process the information.

Suddenly his mind comes up with a scenario he’s all too familiar with. It’s always the same, just slight differences.

You, His best friend under him crying loudly while choking out moans while he eats you out.

Him fucking you from behind, his eyes glued on the tears rolling down your face through the mirror.

Chris, watching you come on his cock, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you break out in tears, your chest heaving while you try to catch your breath.

He sighs heavily closing his eyes. These were all thoughts he’s had before. He licks his lips his eyes locked on the ceiling. He’s hard, painfully so.

In hindsight, he doesn’t know how he thought these thoughts were average. Well first off he’s fantasizing about his best friend, but also because they seem kind of extreme.

In hindsight it makes sense

+1

Chris continues to thrust into you.

He doesn’t really know how this happened really.. it just kind of did.

He’s kept you in missionary all night thrusting into you.

Some of his messy hair strays were sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat coating his skin.

His eyes stay glued on you. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but he wishes sho much that you’ll start crying for whatever reason .

Of corse he doesn’t want to hurt you or anything, but he would love for his fantasies to become reality.

“Fuck please keep talking” you pant your eyes shutting as you try to take in this moment.

You never in a million years would’ve thought that your best friend would rail you this good.

He keeps hitting every right spot in you to make you weak in the knees.

“Mhm?” He mumbles. You groan in response. he was teasing you. You wanted to hear him talk, and praise you, but instead he was waiting for you to beg for it.

“Come on” you whine. Your head is thrown back at the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“Eyes on me ma.” He demands. So without any second thought, your eyes snap open and connect with his.

He’s looking down at you with so much love in his eyes, it’s almost painful. Despite literally fucking you dumb right now, he’s looking at you with such intense need and desire it almost makes you melt.

Your mouth drops open when he quickens his pace even more.

Your legs stay wrapped around his torso trying to keep him close.

“So pretty” he breaths out. One of his hands mindlessly grabs one of your boobs starting to toy with it.

He keeps thrusting into you, and the intensity, both physical and emotional, makes your eyes water.

You really were not an overly emotional person, but this good ass sex was making you weak and you silently curse yourself for it.

You let out a slight sob. You immediately fell embarrassed, you slam one of your hands on your mouth to shut yourself up the other one still tangled in your bedsheets.

His eyes widen seeing your eyes become glassy. He felt a corse of adrenaline shoot through him.

“You okay?” His thrusts don’t waver, he doesn’t seem phased by your tears, if anything, only more turned on.

You nod eagerly. You try to make it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to stop since you’re getting close.

He lets out a breath his eyes becoming somehow even darker. “Let me hear you” he says under his breath. His tone is so low but borderline seductive.

He grabs your wrist pulling your hand from your mouth. You have tears running down your face ruining your once perfect make up.

You close your eyes in embarrassment while you can’t help the few sobs between moans. Chris’ desire only seems to be fueled more as he keeps up pace.

You feel the rubber band in your stomach twist up so uncomfortably, ready to snap at any moment.

“Eyes on me or I’ll stop.” Chris threatens gruffly. And as soon as your glossy eyes meet his again,his pace only seems to get messier and more uncontrolled.

You can’t even warn him through your loud sobs, whines and moans, and before you know it you’re creaming a round his cock.

The impact of your orgasm feels like a brick to your head. you feel lightheaded, your eyes only watering more while you can’t seem to keep quiet for the life of you.

Chris is close behind you, and seeing the expression you make, trying to keep your eyes open, but not being able to focus, along with the tear stains on your cheeks and the mixture of sobs and moans, sends him over the edge.

He doesn’t even bother pulling out instead giving you a few more deep and significantly slower thrusts to help you both through your highs.

You blink the tears in your eyes away trying to compose yourself. You honestly don’t know why you have such a man emotional reactions with Chris.

“So pretty” Chris coos. He leans down cupping your face and showers you in kisses. He doesn’t even bother pulling out while he does so.

“You’re not disgusted?” You breathe out. You’ve only cried once during sex before and it was your first time. The guy had been disgusted at it, but ‘let it slide’ since it was your first time.

“No.” Chris chuckles leaving a long kiss on your forehead. “Why would I be?”

His goofy grin makes you smile.

You watch Chris lick his lips. “I’m sorry I’d didn’t ask this before, but.. uh, can you be my girlfriend?” He starts to get more shy again his eyes soften as he looks down at you.

He looks at you with practically heart shaped eyes.

You feel happy when he asks you tho, you don’t want to be his fuck buddy, you want to be his.

“Yes” you breathe out looking up at him.

Chris connects your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, one that makes your heart melt.

he pulls away with a boyish smile. He slowly pulls out his eye never leaving your face. “I’ll be right back” he mumbles pecking your cheek.

He gets up quickly putting on his boxers, he practically sprints into your bathroom.

You smile at the eagerness. Your new boyfriend was just the sweetest.

Masterlist

‼️ please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

A/N: proofread, but English is not my first language so idk. Tell me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist. I do not write for the triplets anymore, this is a draft.

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog , @jetaimevous , @imwetforyourmom , @yoongslvr69 , @ilovethesturnstriplets , @obsessionsarenotfortheweak , @mininishiriki , @bigbootyjudyyyy , @harry-winkes , @likefirenrain , @emely9274

[k8martins]

. ⋆ ๑ wrapped around your finger

summary: reader is a new medical intern for the lvaces and tension runs high every time they interact, finally breaking after a tough game

request: no / yes

warnings: 18+ smut, rpf

a/n: this is my first kate fic so go easy on me lmfao and i got lowkey carried away it’s around 2k words so ummmm ya purr i guess

back in april, you landed a medical internship for the las vegas aces, just in time for the excitement of draft season. not only did your job enable you to interact daily with some of the most talented athletes in basketball, but perfectly coexisted with your interests in pursuing medicine. so far, your standard role was to examine and prepare players before and after games, including team practices. any injuries or concerns were also taken care of by you. however, being shy was an issue you still had to overcome. treating players with their kinesiology tape or bringing them necessities was always attempted to be a quick motion; hurriedly fixing them up and moving on to the next task.

but some players proved to make that difficult for you. coming into work on an average day, you found yourself kneeling at the foot of the newly drafted guard— kate martin. when she had got unexpectedly chosen by the aces, you sat watching from home, marveled by her tall stature and pin straight blonde hair. she was even more alluring in person, especially from the view of applying tape to her ankles and legs every other day.

“you know the drill, just keep your foot upright and i’ll get your ankle,” you murmured, looking up at kate as she was sat in front of you. her big blue eyes met yours, and she smirked without comment. quickly averting your gaze, you pressed your lips together in an attempt to keep composure.

one thing you had learned since she joined the team was that she occasionally enjoyed poking fun at your timid mannerisms.

“loosen up a little, girl,” kate playfully punched your shoulder, “i don’t bite”.

the gesture made you laugh and mumble some unnecessary apology, but you still felt her gaze even after you looked back down. trying to focus on the task at hand was nearly impossible in this position, being on your knees before her. as you pulled more tape, your mind raced of all the things you could do to each other. if one day you could set the professionalism aside and just push her legs apart—

“you’re my favorite medical person, you know that? you always get me right,” kate continued, knowing exactly what she was doing.

you snapped out of your thoughts and felt your face grow hot, looking back up at her. “thank you,” you said, barely getting it out, “a-and you’re all set now by the way.” kate thanked you with a slight chuckle, and was up and ready for practice.

——————————————————————————

it was interactions like these that kept you up at night. all the eye contact, suggestive gestures, and tension was enough to drive you crazy. you endlessly wondered if kate had meant to fuel the tension, or if it was all just in your head. regardless, these moments made you excited to come into work every day, anticipating the next exchange you two would have.

the entire next month of your internship consisted of increasingly tense encounters with kate, with each one wondering when she would just make a move. she had started to admiringly stroke your hair while you were knelt in front of her, knowing how much it would turn you on. every once in a while she would give your hair a light tug to make you look up for no good reason other than to get a good look at you. once you understood she was taking things a smidge further, you had no problem getting a little extra touchy when handling her legs, or simply handing her things like a towel or water bottle. you ran your hands up her legs in an “innocent” manner, both of you knowing damn well you were ready to find a secluded space together.

your favorite moments to see her were before and after big games. the way her pregame excitedness would be contagious, and the way after the game she would still have energy despite being tired. this day, kate was getting ready to play in a game with high expectations for the aces. you gathered all the things she might need, and headed into the locker room, where most of her teammates were already gone. you spotted her standing right in front of her designated space, and walked towards her. kate smiled knowingly when she saw you, and didn’t move out of the way as you bent past her to set down the water and towel in her cubby. your hips grazed each other when suddenly you felt her arms snake around your lower back. you slowly got back upright, and kate kept her arms around you, moving her hands to each side of your waist.

her big hands planted on your waist took your breath away as there was no escaping her now. face to face, kate kept her gaze on you.

“i was wondering when you’d come by,” she taunted.

you swallowed thickly, your mouth hung open but the words would not come out. even after a month, she still intimidated you with her beauty.

“i’m just joking, relax,” kate said, laughing lightly.

“i know. i just had to go find the best materials for you,” you joked back, trying to keep your cool and ignore the growing heat between your legs.

kate smiled back at you, sensing how needy you were becoming. “same time back here after the game?” she questioned, her voice low.

“of course. good luck tonight, kate,” you said back.

——————————————————————————

it was a tough loss for the aces. the final score came close, but ultimately the team returned to the locker room in low spirits. the loss was hard on you too, seeing kate frustrated out on the court, but you still had to do your job. giving everyone postgame materials and accessing injuries, you noticed to have treated everyone except kate. you craned your neck around the locker room, looking for the long blonde ponytail, but she was nowhere to be seen. eventually, the team had left for the night. you were left cleaning up after them, still wondering where your favorite player was.

you had your back turned from the entrance and putting away your supplies when you heard footsteps coming towards the room. your heart immediately began to race and you turned around to see kate standing a few yards in front of you, with an exhausted but eager expression on her face.

her eyes pierced through you, and your mind raced trying to think of something to say, but it was a blur as she quickly walked to you and took your face in her hands, kissing you deeply. your body tensed up at the surprise, but quickly melted down as you remembered how long you had been waiting for this moment.

it was a hungry kiss, with her hands moving down to your waist and pulling you closer. kate completely took control of you and backed you against the wall. in the heat of the moment, you decided it was your turn to tease her.

“where.....the hell.......were you.....” you said breathlessly between kisses. kate instantly pulled away from you and scoffed.

“just talking with the coaches, baby.”

her breathless tone made you weak in the knees and she immediately went back to making out with you. her hands found their way under your shirt and began exploring all over your waist. she passionately bit at your bottom lip as she moved her cold hands up to your tits, which she desperately squeezed at. the cold touch being in just the right place earned a little whimper from your lips. kate giggled against the kiss, finding amusement in getting you so needy so fast.

you felt slightly embarrassed at how easy you were being, and decided to switch it up on kate. maintaining the kiss, you made your way back to her bench, and pushed her down. you knelt down in front of her just as you did when you took care of her, but now your dirty thoughts were becoming a reality. kate did not protest being sat down and instead threw her head back, resting it right below her name plate— “K. Martin”.

your view from the kneel made your head spin tonight, with her face still sweaty and her messy hair slightly sticking to her face. she was still out of breath and tiredly looked down at you as you parted her legs. you kept the eye contact as you gestured for her to lift her hips in order to slide down her shorts. once off, you threw them elsewhere in the room, and positioned yourself further inbetween her legs. you looked up at her one more time and saw her chest rising and falling with every movement, her eyebrows furrowed in desperation.

“here? right now? are you sure, kate?” you questioned, half taunting half being serious. you placed your hand on her inner thigh and began slowly circling her clit. she bucked her hips up at the sudden touch.

“please...please...” kate whispered, and you felt your stomach flip. all of the nights she teased you and seemed so tough were now out the window as she begged you to continue.

looking around the room, there was no sign of life besides you and kate. you turned back to her and urged her to stay quiet before going down on her. your tongue skillfully lapped around her clit and she let out a strangled cry.

“shhhhh kate you’re doing so good,” you whispered against her wetness.

you brought your fingers up to her entrance and began circling around it before slowly inserting two fingers. you kept the sucking at a steady pace but began to finger her quickly. looking up at kate, her eyes were screwed shut and stomach tense. she was biting down hard on her lip, struggling to stay quiet. her constant little moans single-handedly almost made you finish, but you focused on her.

you continued eating her out as if she was going to disappear from under you, and picked up the pace. your left hand remained on her thigh and you felt her grab hold of it. she breathed hard as her other hand landed in your hair, lightly pushing your head and grasping your hair. you smiled thinking back to the times when she would have her hands in your hair while innocently getting taped up; oh how fast things can change.

“i-i’m gonna....” kate cried out, squirming beneath you and clearly reaching her limit.

the fast pace combined with tongue and fingers finally brought her to her release. kate moaned your name breathlessly over and over as she came on your fingers. eventually you stopped and she was able to ride out the high.

as soon as kate caught her breath she got you up off the ground and put you in her spot. she got on her knees and tugged at your pants.

“kate don’t you think we should stop... someone probably heard us-“

she didn’t even let you finish your sentence before she inserted her long fingers into you. kate did not hold back as she kept an unrelenting pace and began to kiss you. you moaned and panted into the kiss, struggling to kiss back.

you gave up on trying to kiss back and threw your head back, raspy moans escaping from your puffed lips. her fingers felt so good inside of you, hitting the spot with each thrust. she didn’t even need to do anything except finger you, and you were already close. you tried to moan her name but could only get out the “k” sound.

“just take it,” she demanded, getting frustrated you couldn’t kiss back.

kate began kissing down your neck and leaving very apparent hickeys all over. all you could do was moan as she took care of you, your eyes tearing up from the euphoric feeling. you tugged on her hair as you felt yourself on the edge of release. the way your hips squirmed and tears fell down your face told kate that you were ready and nodded at you to come.

her pace slowed as you relaxed from the climax and she began gently kissing your face. she wiped your tears with her other hand and ran her fingers through your messy hair.

“i got you wrapped around my finger, my favorite intern girl,” kate laughed.

“you’re so corny.”

“you.”

[rowdyluv]

Believe in Me — jh86

summary: in which the summer following Jack’s rookie year is coming to an end. Not only did his rookie year come with being shafted by the league as the biggest bust, but he managed to get painted as the biggest (and newest) playboy of the league. His personal management team, the team’s management, and PR step in to clear this all up, but it takes work from Jack.

warnings/points of importance: use of y/n, fem!reader x jack, use of nicknames for female character and for Jack, fake dating trope, oblivious pining trope(?), childhood friends, minor usage of foul language, creation of side original characters for plot, time jumps, memories inserted - tumblr’s intention and italics used to notate, inner thoughts marked with ‘..’ and italicized if they occur

word count: 4.32

notes: any names used for original characters that relate to someone’s name or closely relate to a person’s name is purely by happenstance. The names were rolled by random from a generator where I inserted random first and last names.

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the worn wooden planks of the back porch swing, her eyes following the lazy dance of the sunset as it descended behind the distant tree line. Her childhood home had changed so little over the years, the same comforting embrace of familiarity wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. The porch swing squeaked in a soothing rhythm as both her and Jack slowly swung, a nostalgic tune that had serenaded countless summer nights spent sharing secrets and laughter with Jack. The only other kid who had been in her grade when she moved in, well really one of the only other neighborhood children. The other two children in the neighborhood were his brothers. All three of which had become as much a part of her life as the very foundation of the house she grew up in.

She had spent all day out with his family by the pool, her mother insisted he come to their house for dinner though. Nothing to offer course for their life, well a year ago it wouldn’t have been.

"Do you want to talk about your new headline?" Y/n tried to hold back the hint of amusement in her tone but failed miserably. Jack's rookie season had just come to an end before the beginning of summer. In just a few months he had gone from the talk of the league as the number one draft pick to talk of the league as a "bust."

He was nothing close to a bust. It was just how the year fell.

Jack leaned back in the swing, the sun's final strokes of light for the day painting his cheekbones. He sighed; a heavy exhale filled with the weight of the rumors that had been following him like a dark shadow. "It's just how it's going to be now. You know how it is with the media. They're desperate to find a new angle to keep me going." There were a few moments of silence shared between them before he found the words to continue. "First, it's all about my game, how I'm not scoring enough or I'm not this hotshot star that every analyst built me up to be. Season ends and it's about my supposed love life." His voice was a mix of annoyance and defeat. He was used to being the center of attention, truthfully he strived to be in the center of attention. He just wasn't used to it always being negative attention.

"To be it all, I have this video chat meeting with public relations, franchise management, and my management team about some idea they have come up with to help bring attention away from everything." Jack groaned. "We have three days left of the summer before we drive back to Jersey, I don't want to spend one of them in meetings."

Y/n nodded sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his forearm and leaning herself over on him. "It's okay, bubs. Maybe it's nothing too serious." But she could tell from the furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenched and the tension in his voice that he was already aware of what they had come up with. Or at least he had an idea. She didn't dare pry, they may be best friends, but Jack was clearly not ready to share his thoughts. "And... If it is serious I will be in Jersey this season to help you through it."

Jack gave her a grateful smile before standing up from the porch swing, stretching his arms out wide. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't worry about it tonight." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that was as commonplace as breathing between the two of them. "Thanks for the pep talk, toots." He said, using the childhood nickname that never failed to make her smile despite the circumstances. "I should head back down the street to my parent's place. It's getting late."

As he turned to leave, the rising moon cast a cool glow over the yard, highlighting the tall blades of grass that danced with the intermittent breeze. Y/n watched him go, her mind racing with the implications of what might happen at that during his meeting tomorrow. Would they really suggest something so ridiculous? And if they did, how would Jack handle it?

Jack's footsteps grew fainter until they were swallowed by the night. The house, once alive with the echoes of their laughter, now felt eerily quiet. Y/n remained seated out on the swing, her thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt and concern. She knew Jack was strong, capable of taking on any challenge thrown his way, but the thought of him being manipulated into some scheme to save the face of the Devils franchise made her sick. Then she thought, what if they didn't call a meeting to manipulate him into anything? What if it's simply to offer suggestions on what he can do differently going forward?

Y/n eventually shut that portion of her brain off and headed inside herself. A long hot shower and her bed was calling her name.

The next day Jack sat in his father's home office, the room smelling faintly of cologne and leather, waiting for the others to join the video call. The space was a testament to his father's success, filled with trophies and framed newspaper articles from his own days as a star player and coach. It was both inspiring and daunting, a constant reminder of the legacy he and his brothers were trying to live up to. The computer screen flickered to life, displaying a Zoom call with a row of faces, some familiar, some not. His management team, PR reps, and a couple of team officials stared back at him, all expectant and poised.

Jack leaned back in the chair, his casual attire feeling woefully inadequate among the suits and professional backgrounds of his callers. He had taken his mother's advice and dressed comfortably, but now he wished he had at least put on a button-up shirt. He glanced down at his New Jersey Devils t-shirt, the logo stretched slightly across his chest. It was a fan favorite, one that had been thrown at him in excitement by a young fan at a game. It felt like a piece of armor, a symbol of his pride and commitment to the team, but today it just made him feel like he was the kid, and he was playing dress-up in his dad's old gear.

The meeting began with a round of forced smiles and awkward greetings. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/n's words from the night before echoed in his mind, a comforting whisper amidst the storm of uncertainty. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whoever their absurd suggestion be his girlfriend when they had conjured up the fake relationship idea to "fix" his image.

"Jack, before we start, do you remember the guidelines I told you for this relationship or should we go over them again with everyone here?" The voice was cold and calculated, belonging to one of the stern-faced PR reps. Her eyes bore into him through the screen, demanding his full attention.

Jack's stomach lurched. He had hoped they would just come right out with what was new, news. "I think everyone is aware of what we're trying to achieve here, but please go ahead," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm at bay.

The stern-faced public relations rep, Ms. Castellanos, nodded curtly. "Good. So, the first guideline is that you two must be seen together at least three times a week. This includes public appearances such as dates, her being seen attending your games, and even casual outings like grocery shopping or walking the dog. That is if you or her have one."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, glancing down at his half empty coffee mug. He didn't have a dog, but he still didn't know who this girl they paired him up with was. Plus, he didn't know if Y/n had picked up any new hobbies involving pets in her last year of college. It was never mentioned during their weekly calls or on visits. It would be important to know that since she’s going to be living with him.

"Jack, are you listening?" The voice brought him back to the present, the sternness of Ms. Castellanos' tone was unmistakable.

Jack swallowed down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside him and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ms. Castellanos continued, "Guideline two, and perhaps the most important one, is that the relationship must appear genuine. You must exhibit believable public affection and body language. This means holding hands, occasional kisses on the cheek, maybe a few on the lips if the situation calls for it. As for body language," the stone-cold lady stopped speaking, watching Jack carefully once more. "You're both young, attractive, and in the public eye. If you lean into each other, have your arms around each other's waist, or even occasionally rest your head on her shoulder, it'll look natural and convincing. The media will eat it up, and your image will be transformed from a lonely heartthrob to a lovestruck boyfriend in no time."

Jack felt his cheeks flush slightly, the thought of faking intimacy with someone he'd never met before was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee, trying to imagine how awkward the first kiss would be. He had never been one for faking emotions, especially something as intimate as love.

Ms. Castellanos continued, her voice unforgiving. "Guideline four is critical. The relationship must end with your girlfriend, and I stress this, must be the one to initiate the breakup. It should be done publicly and dramatically enough to make headlines, but not so much that it causes a scandal." She paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "You cannot under any circumstances leave her. If it looks like you're the one who ended things, it'll only add fuel to the fire of your reputation. You need to be seen as the heartbroken party, the victim of a fickle heart. It'll humanize you, make you more relatable to the fans."

Jack felt his jaw clench at the coldness of the plan. He had agreed to a fake relationship to get the media off his back, but this was starting to feel like a script for a reality TV show gone wrong. "And what happens if we... I mean, if she gets tired of the whole thing?" He stumbled over his words, trying to maintain some semblance of respect for the stranger he was about to be romantically linked with.

"Ah, that's where guideline five comes into play," said Ms. Castellanos, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of her own cleverness. "We've prepared a non-disclosure agreement that she will be signing before the relationship begins. It's quite comprehensive and includes clauses for breaking it off in a controlled manner. She'll understand her role in this, Jack."

Jack's grip tightened around his coffee mug, the cheap porcelain feeling fragile under his thumb. "But who is she?" he repeated, his voice a little louder, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Ms. Castellanos' smile didn't waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Her name is Elena Petrov," she said smoothly. "A local influencer with a clean reputation. She's been briefed on the situation and has agreed to help. She's a fan of the team and understands the importance of this for your career."

"No." Jack huffed out. gaining the attention of everyone on the call. Just the same as Jack, everyone else barely stayed tuned into her annoying voice. "She is the reason I am in this shit hole. Her friend is the last girl I was with. Elena took all the pictures. Maggie? A little help here." Jack pleaded with the IT media girl that for some miraculous reason was sitting in on the call.

"Oh. Uhm, yes. It took me days to get the pictures she put up taken down. And Mr. Hughes, we were able to prove they were edited after looking closer at them," Maggie spoke up, her voice shaky, probably from fear of interrupting the woman that could potentially ruin their lives with a tweet.

Ms. Castellanos' eyes darted from Jack to Maggie and back again, her displeasure clear. "Jack, this is non-negotiable. This is what's best for your career right now. You need to be seen as more than just a party boy. The sooner you start this relationship with Elena, the sooner we can start repairing your image," she said, her voice like a whip cracking through the tension in the room.

Jack's manager, Mr. Taylor, cleared his throat before speaking up, his tone measured and calm. "Perhaps there's another option we haven't considered. What about Y/n?" he suggested, glancing at Jack, who looked up at him, hope flickering in his eyes.

Ms. Castellanos raised an eyebrow. "Your childhood friend?" She sounded skeptical, but the video stream grew quiet, all eyes on Jack.

Jack nodded, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. "Yeah, Y/n. We've been best friends since middle school. Everyone already thinks we're together. It'll be believable, and she's... she's not in the spotlight like Elena is. It'll keep things more low-key." He swallowed, hoping he wasn't about to ruin their friendship.

Ms. Castellanos leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Very well, Jack. We'll consider it. But you need to talk to her and make sure she's on board with this. The last thing we need is for her to spill the beans and ruin the whole charade."

Jack nodded, his heart racing. He knew Y/n would do anything for him but asking her to be his fake girlfriend was a big ask. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. After the call ended, he let out a guttural groan due to frustration. He needed to go shoot some basketball or pucks before he talked Y/n, but he didn't have that time to waste. Instead of blowing off some of his stress he slipped on some shoes, kissed his momma goodbye, and headed out to the house he has visited time and time again.

The warm afternoon air was a major contrast to the coldness of the conversation he had just had. The streetlights flickered to life as Jack approached Y/n's house, the familiar path to her door as comforting as ever. He stopped in front of the door, the color of her door had changed since last summer, but the memories that lie behind it remained the same.

Jack took a deep breath before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing through his head. Only thing on his mind was the conversation they were about to have. Jack flinched as he realized how hard and urgent he had beat on her mother’s front door. His heart thudded against his chest, partially with the anticipation of her reaction to the proposal and because of how quickly he had walked down the block. Jack took a deep breath in an urgent need to calm himself and appear as normal as possible before he was face to face with her.

Before he could finish his internal mantra of calming himself, the front door swung open in a rush. He was slightly hoping it would somehow be one of her relatives, but there she was, looking up at him with her soft, hopeful eyes. Her hair messily tossed into a messy bun atop her head and a sprinkle of fresh freckles danced across her nose from spending the day in the sun with his family yesterday. She was wearing the momentous hoodie that he had gifted her before leaving last summer. A hoodie that held a lot in its threads for the two of them. For her, it now held a lot of silent screams and wiped away tears from the last year, but it still held their joint memories.

‘It originally had become Jack’s superstitious hoodie for a while. The lucky hoodie he would wear all the way up to when he would change for warm ups, then she would wear it. This superstition developed during the years of world juniors. The year he brought home the Gold, the superstition shifted. Jack had a “girlfriend” that entire season and she wasn’t fond of the idea of Jack and Y/n swapping clothes like they did. The games with the development program were when she noticed this happening. She confronted Y/n about having a useless crush on her boyfriend and she would be taking over wearing his hoodie from then on. Jack didn’t take lightly to it, that was his best friend, his biggest non-family supporter. So, he decided y/n would wear the hoodie the entire time, from the time they all got dressed for the day to after the game. Now, it’s hers entirely, his decision since he couldn’t be here for her and live out his dream. He wanted her to have a piece of him, but if be a piece of them. Once again, it has become her comfort item as it has been back then.’

She fiddled with the stretched out sleeves hanging over left hand anxiously as her right hand was still grasping the door knob.

"How was your meeting?" The words fell from her lips so fast she hadn't taken a moment to invite him inside. Y/n had sat out on the porch swing all morning waiting to hear from him. Seeing him now ignited her anxiety and her need to know.

Jack let out a simple laugh at her eagerness to know. He softly touched her side, giving a slight nudge as if to signal her to walk backwards into the house.

The coolness of the air conditioning kissing his skin. "It was... interesting," he said, his voice a mix of relief and dread.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She walked a few steps backwards with his guidance to allow him in, the old floorboards creaking under their weight. "Interesting as in good or interesting bad?"

Jack shrugged, his smile wavering as he let go of her and made his way into the living room. The same room where they had spent hours playing video games, watching movies, doing homework.

—Could he ask her to do this? What if it blows up in their faces and ruins everything. What if he ruins her? He’d never be able to live with himself for hurting her.

The couch looked inviting, but he knew better than to sit down without spilling his guts. "Well, it’s one of those ‘depends on how you take it’ interesting type situations..." he trailed off, his eyes wandering around the room.

Y/n looked at him, her eyebrows rising in a questioning manner. Her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. She could read the hesitancy written all across him. Starting with wanting to open up about his meeting. Which is something he's never had an issue with, at least with her, to not wanting to sit down. Almost as if, if he got too comfortable he would tell too much.

Taking a hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm she leaned her head on his upper arm. A common gesture between them. “Jackers?” She whispered so softly, he nearly missed it. He hummed in response coming out from where he drifted off too. She took a hold of his hand and softly pulled him down to take a seat on the couch with her.

“Jackers, just tell me. Did they come up with something ridiculous?"

Jack let out a small laugh , the sound hollow and forced. "Ridiculous doesn't even begin to cover it," he whined, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "They want me to start a fake relationship with someone who I know is not going to help me. Then my manager suggested someone who would be great and I was for it because we already know each other but.." He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction.

Y/n let go of his hand, in an unnatural reaction as they have been platonically physical since high school, "A fake relationship?" she echoed that one snippet. “With.. With who? Since I’ll be living with you I should be prepared for a new girl even if she is a fake girlfriend.”

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. "Toots, I really don't know what to do about this. PR decided on Elena Petrov. B—”

“You mean the friend of the bitch who started this mess? No I’m sorry the two who started this mess? You’re going to pounce around all lovey with the girl who put you here?!” Y/n’s chest heaved up and down heavily. She watched Jack’s face twist in annoyance then soften.

“If you had let me finish… I flat out said no. I will not and am not going to do this plan with her. When I told everyone on the call right then that I wouldn’t, my manager suggested someone else. But I don’t know if they’ll do it. They seem pretty disappointed in me…” Jack kept his voice even and didn’t raise it. He knew how you felt about being yelled at and he couldn’t be the one to cause a panic attack because he got a little upset.

“Well, who did they suggest? Maybe I can help. As long as it’s not Elena..”

“They suggested you. They asked me if I thought you would do it or if I would like you to do it with me. But if you're upset or disappointed, I'll tell them no right now," Jack explained, his voice a low rumble of uncertainty. He started fishing his phone out of his pocket in case he had to call his manager.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as a knot formed, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had always been there for Jack, and he for her, but this was something entirely different. This was a line they hadn’t truly crossed, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to pretend to cross it again. "Jack, I..." she murmured looking down at her hands in her lap, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, I'll do it."

Jack's head snapped to look at her, his eyes failing to meet hers as she’s staring down, though a spark of hope igniting within him still. "You will?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unspoken emotions. "Yeah, I'll do it," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "For you, I'll do it."

Jack's shoulders slumped with relief. He reached out to lift her head hesitantly so that he could meet her eyes with his. His eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to, management can figure it out.”

Y/n forced a smile and nodding her head yes, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. The thrill of being able to go and do things with Jack was nice, but the dread of being scrutinized by females she didn’t know was already gnawing at her. "Besides, it's only for a couple of months, right?"

Jack's smile didn't part to show his teeth, it stayed tight lipped, evident he wasn't as enthused as his tone of voice was letting on. "Yup! Just for a couple of months."

"Okay, we can totally pull this off. It will be like playing pretend, remember?" She nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood with a memory from their childhood. More so for herself than him.

"You mean like when we got married under that old oak tree at my grandparents' house in the summer between sixth and seventh grade?" Jack nudged her back.

"Yup when you only agreed to get pretend married so you could get your first kiss."

She let a little giggle slip out as she reminisced on the memory of her and Jack as kids under the oak tree.

A young Jack with his signature smirk standing at the ‘altar’ with the “preacher Luke”. Jack didn’t wait for Luke to do his part of the pretend wedding he skipped straight to the kiss. ‘Couldn’t wait tootsie I was just wanting my 1st’

"If I remember correctly that was your first kiss too, and you asked for another one because of the ‘belly flies’." Jack teased her enjoying seeing her cheeky smile and blush creeping up on to her cheeks.

Y/n’s laughter echoed loudly through the room. "Jack Hughes, you are such a jerk!" She said playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Jack laughed echoing her laughter. "So, do we have an agreement? You'll be okay with fake dating me, even though we never got fake divorced?"

Y/n shook her head yes once again, while rolling her eyes at the boy next to her. “Yes, Jackers. Even though you never fake divorced me, I will fake date you.”

If she only knew that Jack was silently and brutally beating himself up for this. They were in for a roller coaster of chaos and changes.

Now that he had secured one portion of the agreement, he has footwork left in figuring out how to get out of the hoops and twists. Like how to get out of that very public break up after a few months into dating. He wasn’t going to make her out to be some bitch she’s not.

And if Jack has it his way, they won’t be breaking up and it won’t be a “fake” relationship for long either.

Because Jack Hughes is hopelessly in love with his best friend. If he has any luck, besides puck luck, she loves him too.

notes 2.0: hello! welcome to my newest mini series, believe in me i hope you enjoyed the first part of the series. i am always open to kindly put creative criticism. i truly appreciate all of the continued support by reading, liking, & reblogging! thank you thank you!

[therogueflame]

The Twins and One

So here is an idea for a fic that I shared with an incredible writer and mutual, @aeralux. (She will be waking up to 100 notifications but oh well.) I wanted to share it with you, and get your opinion on whether I should start writing. Please know that I have not written in years, and that this is a very, very rough draft. This dialogue came to me while I was driving. This is not done, and will be expanded on either by me or Aera.

Update (1/8/2025): Check out the final version HERE!

cregan stark x wife!reader x FraternalTwin!jace

Warnings: A little more than suggestive, targcest, cuckholding, impending threesome.

MDNI!!!

🤍

it was the hour of the wolf. Jace walks the cold halls of winterfell, missing the warmth of the south, and the warmth of his family. he is wrapped in a borrowed wolf fur coat, from cregan, and it is about two sizes too large for him. his sword rests at his hip, and he holds the hilt as a sort of reassurance.

his mind is racing with thoughts of war and thoughts of you. for the first time in his life, he has spent more than a moon's turn from his beloved twin sister. it had been six months since jace had escorted you north for your wedding to cregan. he knew this day would come someday, but he did not think it would be so shortly after your twentieth nameday. cregan stark is a good man, and is one of the crown's closest allies. jace and cregan were like brothers, but he could not help to think that he should have been your husband instead.

growing up, you always explored each other's bodies. you came into the world as one, and were practically attached at the hip. "one soul, two bodies," became a pointed remark at the red keep, meant to call out how often you were found at each other's side, but you and jace embraced it. it was true. you were his confidant, his sister, the more brazen flame compared to his tempered one. you were his lover.

as he walks, his thoughts run wild over the last time he saw you in front of him. the curve of your breasts complimenting the curve of your waist. your hair not a rich brown like his, but the same as your mother's - as pale as the moon on its fullest night. your eyes the palest purple seen in the family, reflecting your undeniable heritage.

you were his and he was yours.

he is snapped back into reality as he passes your chambers, noises coming from within them. weary and restless, jace pushes the thick door swiftly open, fully expecting you to be struggling with a dangerous man for your life. without a second thought, and before the situation is fully realized, he unsheaths his sword, ready to defend you from whoever could be harming you. and then there you are. while you are admist a struggle with a dangerous man, it is not for your life.

cregan looks up at the interruption, but seems unphased. his large body is over yours, his palms next to your head as he prepares to thrust into you. you tilt your head back towards the door, the world upside down.

"Jace?" you murmur. Cregan sits back on his knees, not bothering to cover you or himself up.

"Are you going to stand there like a frail pup or are you going to join us?" Cregan asked, and your eyes shot up to him. before you could say anything, cregan continued. "Your dear sister told me about what it was like growing up with you." You blush heavily. "Targaryens and their queer customs. But tradition is tradition. And us northmen are big on tradition."

Jace stands there, mouth wide open, not sure what to say.

"Jace, if you are going to stand and watch, could you at least shut the door?" Jace scurries to shut the door and put his sword back, clearly still shocked at the situation he has found himself in.

"Come, my young prince," cregan says as he gets up, "i want to see how you pleasured her in the south. She is always saying how much she misses you."

You roll over to your stomach as Cregan walks over to clap a hand on Jace's shoulder.

"My dear brother, I do not think I have ever seen you so speechless." you tease.

Jace looks at you, and then Cregan, and then back to you.

"Are you sure?" he looks more nervous than he did the day he claimed Vermax.

"It'll be just like old times, brother. You always did have your way with me, it will just include my other favorite man this time." you purr.

You push yourself off the bed, and walk over to where Cregan and Jace are standing. You are just as naked as you were the day you were born, and you know this is his favorite way to see you. You stroke his cheek and breathily kiss his neck. Your hands roam, pushing off his cloak in one motion and beginning to unbutton his tunic. Cregan retreats to the foot of the bed to watch. You smile against Jace's neck as he begins to relax, and you move his hands to the small of your back.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Bar Realizations

Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

a/n: I’ve had this story in my notes drafts for a hot minute but I never posted it but now I feel like I should.

ALSO!!! I HAVE TO START A NEW F1 &F2 MASTERLIST SO BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THAT!!!!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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Marvel Masterlist

I had always known I was different. From the time I was little, strange things happened around me. Objects moved without cause, emotions surged uncontrollably, and the whispers in my head never ceased. When I discovered the full extent of my powers, I knew I needed help—someone who could guide me. That's when I met Charles Xavier.

He was young, kind, and immensely powerful. His ability to control and influence minds was unparalleled, but it was his patience and understanding that drew me in. He offered to help me harness my abilities, and I accepted, desperate to gain control over the chaos within me.

The process was grueling. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, filled with intense training sessions, meditation, and mental exercises. There were moments when I wanted to give up, when the weight of my powers felt too heavy to bear. But Charles was always there, encouraging me, pushing me to my limits, and teaching me to master my abilities. Over time, our relationship deepened. I found myself drawn to him, not just because he was my mentor, but because of who he was—compassionate, intelligent, and incredibly attractive.

One evening, after a particularly challenging session, Charles suggested we take a break. “How about we go out for drinks? Just the two of us,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

My heart skipped a beat. Was this a date? Did he feel the same way about me as I did about him? Trying to contain my excitement, I agreed, and we made our way to a cozy bar in town.

The atmosphere was perfect—dim lights, soft music, and a sense of intimacy that made my pulse quicken. We sat at a corner table, and for a while, everything felt perfect. We laughed, talked about everything and nothing, and I felt closer to him than ever before.

But then, she appeared. A tall, confident blonde with a predatory smile. She sauntered over to our table and immediately latched onto Charles, ignoring my presence entirely. “Hey, handsome,” she purred, placing a hand on his arm. “Mind if I join you?”

Charles tried to gently extricate himself from her grasp. “Actually, we’re on a date,” he said, nodding towards me.

The blonde glanced at me and scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like he’d ever go out with you.”

The words stung, and anger flared within me. How dare she dismiss me so easily? I felt a surge of energy, the familiar tingle of my powers awakening. Discreetly, I focused on her, channeling my emotions into a subtle spell. Suddenly, the blonde started babbling, spilling embarrassing secrets about herself.

“I can't believe I lost my job today,” she blurted out, her eyes wide with horror. “And my ex dumped me because I cheated on him. Oh my god, why am I saying this?”

She turned and fled, humiliated, leaving Charles and me alone once more. I felt a pang of satisfaction, but it was short-lived. Charles turned to me, his expression serious.

“Did you use your powers?” he asked quietly.

Guilt washed over me, and I nodded. “I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know. I felt jealous, possessive. I wanted you all to myself.”

Charles sighed and suggested we head back to the school. The drive back was silent, the weight of my actions pressing down on me. Had I ruined everything? As we pulled up to the mansion, I couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“Charles, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to lose control. I just... I care about you so much, and seeing her with you made me feel... threatened.”

He remained silent, his face unreadable. As we entered the mansion, I turned to head to my room, wanting to escape the shame and disappointment I felt.

But then, I heard his voice in my mind. “Y/N, I’m not mad or disappointed. In fact, I’m feeling quite the opposite. That was the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

I stopped in my tracks, my heart racing. Turning around, I saw him standing there, a faint smile playing on his lips. Before I knew it, Charles closed the distance between us, his lips crushing against mine in a passionate kiss.

My body responded immediately to his touch, my desire for him igniting like wildfire. I moaned into his mouth, my hands roaming over his strong chest as I returned his kiss eagerly. Charles' taste and touch were addictive, and I already knew I would never get enough of him.

Guided by pure instinct, Charles backed me up against a wall, his lips never leaving mine as he reached behind me to open a nearby door. Still kissing me deeply, he backed us into his bedroom, our mouths fused together.

Breaking the kiss briefly, Charles growled softly, his breath hot against my ear, "Get on the bed, baby." His voice was thick with desire, and I felt my core clench at the commanding tone he was taking with me. I wanted him to take control, to show me just how much he wanted me.

I did exactly as I was told, my heart pounding in my chest as I climbed onto the bed and looked up at Charles expectantly. He reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it, revealing his muscled chest and abs.

My mouth watered at the sight, my eyes roaming over his defined body as I licked her lips subconsciously.

Charles kicked off his shoes and undid his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, his hard length springing free. Pre-cum glistened at the tip, and my pussy clenched at the sight, my own clothes feeling too tight and restricting.

"Take your clothes off for me, baby," Charles demanded, his voice hoarse as he watched her intently. "Show me that beautiful body."

I sat up, my hands shaking slightly as I lifted my top over my head, revealing my lace bra and the swell of my breasts. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, shimmying out of them, and then slowly stepped out of my panties, now completely naked and on display for Charles.

He groaned, his eyes raking over my body, taking in my breasts and smooth pussy. "You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?" He took a step closer, reaching out to trail a finger along my inner thigh, his touch sending shivers through me.

"Charles..." I whimpered, my voice filled with need. I had spread my legs slightly, inviting him to touch me where I wanted and needed it the most.

As if reading my mind, Charles smiled wickedly, lowering himself between my thighs. He nuzzled my creamy thighs with his face, placing soft kisses along my sensitive skin as he made his way closer to my core.

I sighed, my hands threading through his hair as I savored the feel of his lips and tongue on my skin.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet," Charles murmured against my pussy, his warm breath teasing me. He kissed my inner thighs again before finally zeroing in on my center, his tongue snaking out to lick a long, slow stripe along my slit.

I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as I felt his tongue swipe through my folds, collecting my essence. "Oh God, Charles!"

Encouraged by my reaction, Charles gently gripped my thighs, spreading me open further to give him better access. He swirled his tongue around my clit before sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he inserted two fingers into my dripping core, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside me.

"Fuck, yes!" I moaned, my body writhing on the bed as Charles ate me out with skill and enthusiasm.

My hands grasped the bedsheets as she surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over me. Charles devoured me eagerly, clearly enjoying the sweet nectar I was offering him.

It didn't take long for me to climax, my walls clenching around Charles' fingers as I cried out his name.

Charles hummed in satisfaction, licking and lapping up my juices as I rode out my orgasm. But he didn't stop there, continuing to work his magic with his tongue and fingers until I was trembling with sensitivity.

"Please... I can't take any more," I panted, my body still throbbing from the intense orgasms. "I need to taste you now."

With a grin, Charles withdrew his fingers and tongue, giving me a moment to catch my breath. Then he climbed up the bed, positioning himself above me. I reached for his throbbing cock, wrapping my hand around the shaft and stroking him slowly as I guided him to my waiting mouth.

I swirled my tongue around the engorged head, tasting the salty pre-cum before taking him deep into my mouth. Charles hissed, his hips bucking slightly as he threaded his fingers through my hair, gently guiding me as I sucked him off.

I took my time, swirling my tongue around his length, sucking and bobbing my head as I looked up at him through my lashes. I loved the power I felt in this position, knowing that I could bring this strong, powerful mutant to his knees with just my mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N... that feels so good," Charles groaned, his hips picking up a slight rhythm as he gently fucked my face.

I hummed in response, the vibration making Charles grit his teeth. He couldn't hold back anymore; he wanted to feel the tight heat of my mouth around him as he came. With a low growl, he began to thrust into my mouth, his pace quickening as he chased his release.

"Fuck my face, Charles," I moaned, loving the feel of his hard length sliding between my lips. "Cum for me."

my dirty words sent Charles over the edge, and with a hoarse cry, he spilled down my throat, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into my eager mouth.

I savored the taste of him, swallowing every drop he gave me as he rode out his intense orgasm.

We lay together for a moment, catching our breath, before Charles gently withdrew from her mouth, a satisfied smile on his face. "You are amazing, baby."

The comment made me blush, a happy warmth spreading through me as I reached up to kiss him. "Your turn to lay back and enjoy the ride."

With a twinkle in his eye, Charles lay back on the bed, his hard cock standing proud as he watched me straddle him. I smiled wickedly, reaching for a condom from the bedside drawer before rolling it onto him with ease.

I took my time, rubbing my slick folds against his length as I teased us both. Charles hissed, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to urge me down onto him. "Tease," he accused playfully, reaching up to tweak my nipples, making me gasp.

"Impatient," I retorted, aligning myself with him before slowly sinking down, taking him deep inside me. We both groaned, I threw my head back as I savored the feel of him stretching me.

Charles' hands gripped my hips, guiding me as I began to ride him, my tits bouncing with each bounce.

The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room as I picked up the pace, my hips moving in perfect rhythm. Charles thrust up to meet me, his hands squeezing the flesh of my ass as he helped to guide me onto him.

"You feel so good, baby," Charles panted, his eyes closed in ecstasy. "So wet and tight."

I moaned, my head falling forward as I got lost in the sensations. Charles' cock hit all the right spots inside me, and I could feel my orgasm building already.

Reaching between us, I started to rub my clit in tight circles as I rode him harder, my breath coming in short gasps. "Oh, fuck... I'm gonna cum, Charles."

"Cum for me, baby," Charles urged, his voice thick with his own desire. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock with that tight pussy."

As if on cue, my walls clenched around him, my juices flowing as I cried out his name. Charles groaned, his hips snapping up to meet mine as he thrust into me one last time, spilling himself into the condom.

Our bodies shuddered together as we rode out our intense, mutual orgasm.

Collapsing onto his chest, I felt Charles' arms wrap around me, holding me close. We were both sweaty and sticky, but the post-coital glow and the feeling of satisfaction made it all worth it.

"That was incredible," I murmured, placing a soft kiss on his chest.

Charles smiled, his hand gently tracing invisible circles on my back. "It certainly was. But we're not done yet."

I lifted my head to look at him, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?"

Charles' gaze darkened with desire. "I want to try something different. Something a little wilder."

Intrigued, I bit my lip. "Like what?"

Charles rolled them over, pressing a kiss to my neck. "You'll see," he whispered, his hand reaching down to stroke my slick folds. "But first, I want to taste you again."

————

My first Marvel story!!!!

Taglist:

@hiireadstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @dhanihamidi @eddieharrington @tallrock35

[xmads-omensx]

I finally get to request 🥹

With Valentine’s Day coming up, I want the fluffiest one shot with Noah 💕 Feel free to throw in anything you want ❤️

LOVE YOU 🥰

Word Count: 1,152

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @bloody-spades @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @heyyoplayer @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm

I love you too my loveeee! This was such a fun request and I had the PERFECT idea rotting in my drafts to use for this. Hope you enjoy babe <3

Noah was generally a difficult person to buy gifts for.

He wasn’t big on the holidays or birthdays, so that narrowed down opportunities to actually buy him gifts.

We hadn’t celebrated our first anniversary yet either, so I wasn’t sure what was too much or not enough as a gift.

Hell, I was struggling to think of ideas for gifts that were outside of the realm of music or anime, since he already had so much related to the two of them, it was hard to come up with a new idea.

Granted, it was still about a month before Valentines day, but I wanted to make sure that I was prepared just in case I ordered something online that took a little while to arrive.

I had driven over to Noah’s place to watch some anime he had been begging me to watch since I had mentioned wanting to get back into anime.

The whole drive, I sat in silence trying as hard as humanly possible to come up with an amazing gift idea, but I still came up empty.

However, I did have that bright idea to bake him some cupcakes since he had really enjoyed the ones that I had made for Christmas and New Years.

But that still didn’t feel like enough of a gift to get him.

When I arrived at Noah’s, he welcomed me in with a warm hug and a loving kiss before leading me up to his bedroom where we would be spending the rest of our evening.

“So.” He sighed, sitting on his bed with the TV remote in his hand. “You’ve never seen Demon Slayer, right?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No I haven’t.”

“I really think you’ll like this.” He said, logging into Crunchyroll on the TV and settling against his headboard and pulling me into his side.

I did, in fact, really like it.

Over the next week, Noah and I finished the entirety of the first season.

That’s when the idea hit me.

I would get him a Hashira sword for valentines day.

It was a brilliant plan and I was extremely confident that he would like it too.

The only flaw in my plan was actually getting the sword itself.

Noah had never told me who his favourite Hashira was, so I was forced to make an educated guess. Asking him felt like too much of a giveaway at this point.

The sword itself was difficult to find.

Etsy had plenty of options, but they didn’t seem good enough to get for Noah. Some looked cheap, some had bad reviews, some wouldn’t come in time and some were far too expensive.

Then I found the perfect one.

It was more of a traditional katana, but you could customise it in any way that you wanted so I felt that it was absolutely perfect for Noah.

I made it all black with a flame sword guard to mimic the one that Rengoku had on his sword.

It looked perfect, but seemed to be missing something.

Then I saw it.

Right at the bottom of the website was a text option that allowed you to add whatever text you wanted to the sword itself.

It was a no-brainer that I needed to write something on it, but what?

Something valentines related was too obvious and then the katana would be less of a gift for Noah and more of a valentines specific item and that wasn’t what I wanted.

An ingenious idea washed over me as I sat staring at the computer screen.

I filled out the text box and checked out, checking for the confirmation email in my inbox and sitting back, happy that I finally bought Noah his gift.

When valentines day rolled around, I was ecstatic.

The katana had been delivered and was perfect and the cupcakes had come out even better than I had imagined.

I drove over to Noah’s place with the gifts, and knocked eagerly on the door.

A very tired Noah stood on the other side of the door with his bed-head poking out in all different directions and his hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

Realising it was me, he smiled softy and opened the door wider, welcoming me in.

Once he had closed the door behind me, he walked over and pulled me into a tight hug, kissing the top of my head.

“Happy valentines day.” He murmured in a sleepy voice.

“Happy valentines day.” I replied, pulling back slightly to kiss him.

He smiled into the kiss and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulders and carrying me up the stairs to his bedroom and setting me down on the bed.

“Wait, your presents.” I giggled.

He laughed and retreated back downstairs to gather all of the things that I had brought over.

“You seriously didn’t have to get me anything.” He said in a tired voice.

“I wanted to. Plus when I saw it online I knew it was perfect, and I had to get it for you.” I said with a laugh, cuddling into his side as he sat down.

“I left the cupcakes downstairs, but they look and smell amazing.” He said, kissing the top of my head.

Noah unwrapped the pink wrapping paper slowly and delicately, as if he was savouring each moment of this.

He opened the cardboard box underneath the paper to reveal his gift.

Noah gasped, not saying a word, as he pulled the sword from the box, admiring it and holding it carefully.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” He whispered. “This is the greatest thing I have ever seen.”

I giggled as I watched him marvel at the katana.

“I am the fucking king.” He said, barely audible.

I had definitely made the right decision with the inscription that I had chosen to have engraved on the blade.

His eyes shone like diamonds as he was transfixed on  the katana and all of the intricate details.

“Holy shit, is this meant to be like Rengoku’s sword guard?” He asked with an excited tone.

I nodded my head, giggling at my boyfriend’s nerdy nature.

For the rest of the day, he pretty much sat and admired his new gift. I was very proud of it if I was being honest.

However, when Noah went on tour a few months later, his love for the katana became even more apparent.

Matt had texted me a video one day, completely out of the blue, of Noah on stage with his katana, proudly waving it around as he performed Dethrone with a huge grin on his face, which was somewhat unsettling to see.

It made me happy how much he loved it.

But then I realised that next year I would have to outdo that gift.

And I didn’t think that was possible.

Not when the katana had made him smile like that.

[naomis-daydream]

on the throne // shuri udaku

summary: just read tbh….ok fine i’ll explain😒. being queen comes with a load of royal responsibilities; from border patrol, to technological advancements, and everything in between. though wakanda’s ruler realizes there’s a special someone she’s been neglecting. shuri’s come up short, and her wife’s coming to collect what’s hers.

warnings: pregnant!wife!reader. descriptions of pregnancy (obvs), teeny weeny bit of oral (shuri receiving). barely proofread.

a/n: this is the product of baby fever and ovulation😜 also this is a draft from forever ago, it kinda sucks so im dropping it under the cloak of night🥷🏽.

there were many things shuri loved about your body.

your hands, for instance. they always offered her a soothing rub or relaxing touch whenever she became stressed or overwhelmed with the weight of the crown. or something soft to hold as you spent evenings watching the wakandan sunset from the palace garden.

then there were your arms. shuri found that she only slept peacefully when yours were wrapped tightly around her middle. and if the royal ever woke to realize you rolled away, she’d assure she wiggled her way back into your grasp.

and bast your thighs. if the queen could spend the rest of her days between them, the soft, plush cushions, there’d be absolutely no resistance from the panther.

now it was worse, and it was all your fault. it was one of the many nights the queen spent inside you. somewhere between when she slowly pushed into you and when she brought you nearing your third high of the night, you had joked about her getting you pregnant. something about her having the genius and the looks to make a great gene pool. “fill me up, my queen,” you uttered, “give it to me. i want all of you.” you we’re fucking tantalizing.

it didn’t help that she had the science to make what originated as a lustful thought a reality.

now, seven months later, everything she loved about you only grew as your body changed. your natural curves only hypnotized her more as your hips widened and breasts swelled.

shuri also couldn’t help but smile when you wobbled cutely around your shared home due to the swell of your ankles, and while you refused to be helped with an act as simple as walking, you would feign resistance to shuri’s pleads to ease your pain before caving to let her massage your aching joints.

but the absolute worst part was the hormones. the cravings that made shuri tip-toe into the kitchen for you well after midnight, the hot flashes that would cause you to walk practically bare around the palace, and your sex drive, yours nearly matched that of her’s when she took the herb. though, only two of those things seemed to be prevailing today, where the only thing separating you from her was the thinnest dresses. it wasn’t unusual for you to forgo a bra this late into your pregnancy, but it seemed you’d forgotten any undergarments at all today as you sat on the lap of the queen, grinding helplessly into her thigh.

“yiza, mntwana,” you purred. come on, baby. “let me touch you.”

your wife squirmed from her place on the throne, hands on your hips as she guided you. you trailed your lips down her jaw to land on her pulse point before sucking intently.

while you were preoccupied, the woman took the chance to glance at the clock in the room, hissing slightly when noticing the time and when you sunk your teeth into her flesh. you were going to ruin her, she knew that much. the sad part is, she was gonna let you.

“the elders,” she whined, finding words rather hard when you moaned against her. “our meeting, they’ll be here in minutes!”

you pause your movements to lean up to her ear, whispering, “fuck the meeting.”

shuri threw her head back, sinking further into the the chair and further into the trap you set in motion the minute you walked into the room.

you always started by entering with a sweet smile, followed by asking her how her day was or what project she was working on. then you’d begin rubbing her shoulders, kissing her neck while muttering sweet nothings and telling her she worked too hard. “let me take care of you,” you’d say, “you deserve to feel good, don’t you wanna feel good?” and soon shuri would end up on her back, eyes wide shut as her legs were thrown over your shoulders and your fingers snug between her walls.

this time was different though. it had to be. the council meeting was nearing by the minute, and you showed no signs of waving the white flag.

“entle,” she began, licking her lips as she spoke. “i-i really think we should wait.” you continued to kiss her, attaching your lips to whatever skin you could reach as shuri continues. “once it’s over we can do whatever you want, my love.” her hands run over the curve of your ass, squeezing gently.

you pulled away from her, hands still cupping her cheeks. “i wanna do whatever i want now.”

“i know. i promise i-i’ll make it up to you.” she says, tilting her head up to look at you before placing a soft kiss to your lips. it’s sweet, the taste of her, and as much as you wanted more, she pulls away. “you better,” you scolded, “you’re the one who did this to me anyway.” you nod your head down to your stomach, stretching against the fabric of your maxi dress. the hormones had been driving you insane. and it didn’t help that shuri spent so much time away with all her new duties. this left you to take care of your own needs more often than you’d like to admit. you needed her. to feel her. while it might seem like you were caving, her majesty should’ve known better than too assume her wife would back down so easily.

your words bring a smile to shuri’s lips, a laugh escaping her as you sigh while you rise off of her, giving her a full view of your bump as you do so.

“whatever you want, mama.”

you hum a lazy response as your queen visibly relaxes, no longer antsy with your aroused antics. though she wasn’t in the clear just yet, you came here for a reason, and wouldn’t leave unfulfilled.

a simple idea sprouts in your head, and soon, a mischievous smile dances across your features as you reach back to unclasp your necklace. shuri raises a brow in question, but remains silent as you both watch the dainty jewelry slide down your chest and onto the floor, right between her feet.

“oops.”

the royal shakes her head, already having a clue of where this was headed. but you’re already sinking to your knees, eyes never leaving hers.

you rub your palms along the fabric of her black dress, reaching just below her knees. you play with the hem, eyeing the fickle fabric before tracing your fingertips higher. and higher. and high-

“thandiwe.” she warned.

beloved. how wholesome a name in contrast to your actions upon her. you peered up at her, batting your lashes at her. “yes, my queen?”

“we have ten minutes before our meeting-”

“i’ve made you come in less,” you continue, hooking your fingers around her underwear.

shuri wanted to protest, she really did, and she tried to. she mutters tiny objections at first, and you almost believe them, but the way she lifted her hips to help you remove her underwear, the way she whined when you tugged her to the throne’s edge, and the way she threw her head back with the first stripe you licked up her center told you all you needed to know. let’s face it, she knew she was done for the minute you walked in the room.

you begin to place gentle kisses to her clit, giving her a little stimulation, but not quite enough for her liking. shuri shudders above you, legs shaking gently. she began to realize just how long it’d been since the two of you had sex.

“still want me to stop?” you asked, tongue twirling around her entrance, to which she moaned in response. a light chuckle escapes your lips. “i’ll take that as a no.”

[delespresso]

DESERVING ━━ Antonio Dawson x fem!reader

author's note; this one has been in my drafts for a while and honestly i have mixed feelings about it. but oh well, i might as well just put it out lol enjoy <3

summary; antonio had only ever been casual with her, but called it quits a while ago. only to come back after a rough case, finally realising it wasn't so casual after all

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

Molly's wasn't as crowded that night. She sat at the bar, nursing a drink in her hand as she rested her head in her palm with her elbow on the bartop. After a long day of back-to-back surgeries at Med, all she needed was a drink to wind down.

For the past couple of months, that drink was with some company. Tonight, it went back to the usual routine.

She wasn't sure where any of it went wrong. She hardly even realized there was anything wrong, really. Maybe it just wasn't right.

She took a large swig of her drink at the thought. The only thing that kept her mind off him had been her patients. Now that she didn't have that, she zeroed back into him without wanting to.

He'd consumed her entirely in the short months they were together. She should've known better. Getting involved with a man recently divorced – what was she thinking?

It felt so good to just be wrapped up in someone after long, awful shifts. And it was a win-win situation. She wasn't the only one benefiting from it.

Refusing to sit at the bar any longer, she shot her drink down in one go and left some cash on the bar. Usually she'd be chatting with Hermann before she left. Not tonight.

She didn't want to drive after that. Maybe she'd only had about two glasses, but she didn't want to take any chances. So she walked. She'd take her car in the morning.

Her apartment was just down the block anyway. It hardly took her more than five minutes to get back there.

Fiddling through the keys in her hands, she turned down the hallway towards her door. Stopping short when she looked up, very nearly dropping her keys.

“Antonio?”

Her voice came out uncertain.

He turned instantly. His fist dropped, he was just about to knock on her door.

For a moment the man just stood there and looked at her. He put his hands back into the pockets of his coat, rocking on his heels slightly as he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Hearing his voice again seemed to sober her up suddenly – if she was even that tipsy in the first place. The last time they'd spoken to each other was three weeks ago. The time he hit the brakes on what they had.

“Hi,” she nodded.

Antonio hesitated. He dropped his gaze for a second, before shrugging lightly.

“Look, I uh–”

He met her gaze. She hadn't moved an inch. They were facing each other in the hallway of the apartment.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he admitted gently. “It's been a… rough day.”

She nodded slowly. It had been a rough day, for sure.

Bomb threats all over important locations in the city. Police stations, schools, hospitals – Chicago Med was the very last. They may have mostly been a hoax, but Intelligence didn't take it lightly.

Antonio's team was all over it. The second one of those bombs was real, dropped off at the park just within half a mile radius from Chicago Med – they went head first to find the perp. He ran with his team to investigate it all, while she was busy rushing the victims through surgery.

“It was,” she agreed. “It was rough.”

The keys tapped along her palm lightly as she looked at him. Neither of them seemed to be able to tear their gazes away.

“And how are you?” she then asked softly.

Antonio only stared at her. He looked tired. Like he always did after long cases like this one. These bomb hoaxes had been going on for weeks. It was only today that something truly happened.

And while they haven't found the perp, he took a small step back and let his team play their part as well.

“I've been better,” he replied.

She let out a slow breath. Holding the key in one hand, she gestured to her door lightly.

“Wanna come in?” she offered.

She wasn't sure why she did that. If it was even a good idea after everything.

After all, it was him who said they should stop. That it wasn't the right time for either of them. That they should probably work out their own careers first.

Antonio took a beat. His lips parted to speak as he looked at her, then he glanced at her door.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

She only stepped past him in response, unlocking her door and stepping in. Holding the door open to the side, she gestured for him to enter.

The place was just like he remembered. Although, he doubted much would change in merely three weeks. They ended up standing on two different sides of her kitchen counter, a bottle of beer in each of their hands.

Antonio glanced around the place, his fingers lightly tapping on his beer bottle.

“You finally got the heater to work,” he commented.

She'd been having an issue with her heater forever, it felt like. But now as he stood there, he realized it was warmer here despite the cold outside.

She hummed, nodding as she took a sip of her beer.

“I got a new one,” she replied. “Nothing lasts forever, right?”

Their eyes met. Something about what she said made them both pause and think. She didn't mean to imply anything, but she noticed what she did a second too late. Her eyes dropped and she took another sip of her beer, no longer knowing what to do with herself.

Antonio was just as bad. But he did know how he felt, at least.

“We were good together,” he spoke softly, breaking the sudden silence.

She paused. His words were like a wound in salt.

He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't be pushing after he was the one that had broken her. But he couldn't stop himself. Suddenly he was around the counter, beer bottle abandoned as his hand reached up to cup her cheek.

When she looked up at him it was with those same doe eyes he fell for. The ones that made his blood rush and heart pumping. The ones that felt like a breath of fresh air after being cooped up for so long.

“I messed up. And instead of fixing it, I made it worse,” he told her. “And I'm sorry. I don't say it as often as I should, but I'm telling you and I mean it. I'm sorry.”

The words hung heavy in the air for a moment as she simply stared up at him with her soft, tender eyes. There was a clear hurt still in them and it made his heart clench.

“I don't deserve you. I really don't. But God if you let me, I'm willing to put in the work. To be the man deserving of you. I just… I just need your word. And your time of day.”

When he continued, she didn't even notice the way her eyes watered. This was the most vulnerable this man had ever been with her. Her heart was thundering as she realised she never got over him. And she knows she never will.

She didn't say a word. She didn't give him an answer, not verbally. Instead, her hands reached up for his jacket to tug him down gently so their lips could meet.

And when she kissed him it was with everything she had. It wasn't lustful or hungry. It was pure love and desire. A yearning that never once faded.

When he kissed her back, she knew then. It was undeniable — she was his. And he was undoubtedly hers.

liked this tale? be a member and buy me some coffee!

[octaneink]

You shouldn't compete at all

James Marriott x Platonic!Reader

Summary: James has recently gone through a painful breakup, the reader tells him something that changes his perspective. Warnings: Themes of cheating from a named original character Notes: I was listening to BOKeTE and watched the music video, then I was inspired to make this!

You and James had been friends for years, ever since you collided outside a cramped London pub during a mutual friend’s birthday. You met when he was still drinking, he’d spilt his pint down your shirt, and instead of apologising, he’d laughed so hard he snorted, which made you laugh, which made him insist on buying you three more drinks. Since then, you’d become the person he called after bad dates, the one who dragged him to Tesco at 2 AM for ice cream when he was editing videos, and one of the voices in his ear telling him to continue pursuing his musical career.

But this, this was different.

James had been dating Clara for six months. She was all sharp wit and sharper eyeliner, a part-time DJ who’d slid into his DMs after he made a joke about synth wave on a YouTube video. At first, it was electric—late-night drives to nowhere, sharing Spotify playlists, her teaching him how to mix a decent London Fog.

But then the cracks started showing. She’d cancel plans last minute, vanish for days, gaslight him with a breezy “You’re overreacting, babe” when he’d ask where she’d been. You’d warned him gently, but he’d shrugged it off with, “I’m a disaster, she’s a disaster—match made in hell.”

Then came the breakup text. “Need space. This is too much.” Clara posted a selfie from Ibiza twelve hours later, her arm slung around a guy with a jawline that could cut glass and a chiselled eight-pack.

Three days after the breakup, James’s flat smelt like stale pizza, regret, and the faint chemical tang of Red Bull left sweating in abandoned cans. You let yourself in with the key he’d given you last Christmas when you’d spent a week here minding Otto, his perpetually unimpressed cat, and keeping his collection alive while he was on tour.

Now, the plants were wilting again, and the living room looked less like a home and more like a museum of bad decisions. Empty coffee mugs littered every surface, a half-eaten box of Jaffa Cakes sat fossilising on the arm of the sofa, and crumpled on the floor was the poster she’d gifted him—some avant-garde band with a name like “The Neon Gherkins”, their logo a swirl of neon vomit-green. He’d torn it down so violently the corner still clung to the wall by a stubborn strip of tape, swaying like a hanged man in the draft from the window.

The air felt heavy, thick with the ghost of her jasmine-coconut perfume and the sharper bite of James’s cologne—a clash of what was and what is. Even Otto seemed to be judging the chaos from his perch atop the bookshelf, tail flicking as if to say, “You’re both a disgrace.”

You found him in his bedroom, curtains drawn like a funeral shroud, wearing the same Nirvana shirt he’d had on three days ago, now speckled with dried toothpaste and what looked suspiciously like ramen broth. His laptop glowed faintly, illuminating a half-finished song titled “Unnamed (Demo)”. The screen showed a wall of lyrics mid-verse:

You said you loved the way I write, but you rewrote every line— now your paradise is just a cheap hotel sign. Jasmine in your hair, coconut on your skin, I hope your new

Scraps of paper littered the floor, balled-up and hurled in frustration. A fresh-looking half-empty mug of cold coffee sat beside his guitar, its lowest string snapped and coiled like a metal snake.

He didn’t look up when you entered, just strummed the same dissonant chord over and over, “Still workshopping your magnum opus?” you said, nudging a crumpled lyric sheet with your toe. 

James snorted, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “It’ll be a hit. ‘Breakup Ballad #116’. Gonna drop it right after my collab with Lewis Capaldi’s sadder cousin.”

“Needs more cowbell,” you deadpanned, nodding at the forgotten tambourine under his bed—a relic from Clara’s “I’m definitely joining your band” phase. You tore open the bag of Monster Munch, plucking out a small handful of crisps and popping one into your mouth. The sharp tang of pickled onion hit your tongue as you passed the rest of the bag to James. “Otto’s been side-eyeing us since I walked in.”

James accepted the bag reflexively, staring at it like it might contain answers instead of fluorescent orange dust. “Cheers,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His thumb brushed the crumpled edge of the packaging, hesitant, as if even snacking felt like a betrayal of his self-imposed wallowing.

“Eat, you twat,” you said through a mouthful, nodding at the crisps. “Can’t have you passing out mid-emo-ballad.”

He huffed a laugh—thin, but real—and finally grabbed a handful. The crunch was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Otto flicked his tail from the doorway, his disdain palpable.

You flopped onto the bed beside him, shoulder bumping his. His phone buzzed on the mattress between you, lighting up with Clara’s latest Instagram story: a sunset time-lapse over turquoise waves, captioned “Good vibes only ✨”. 

“Wow,” you said, snatching the phone before he could. “She really went for the basic bitch aesthetic, huh? Groundbreaking. You’re still watching them?” You push a bit more, nodding to the phone.

He grimaced. “Dunno why. Masochism, probably.”

“Right. Let’s fix that.” You close the phone, and with a flick of your wrist, you send the phone sailing into the laundry basket across the room. It landed with a muffled thunk beneath a pile of graphic tees.

“Hey—!”

“Relax. It’s not like she’s texting you back.” You turned to face him, cross-legged. “Look, James. You’ve fallen in love 115 times. With her, it’s 116. So, as bad as it sounds, that’s nothing new.”

He blinked. “Since when do you keep track?”

“Since the girl from the coffee shop in Brighton who broke up with you when you said you didn’t believe in astrology. And the one who tried to sell you healing crystals at Glastonbury. And the bloke from Edinburgh who ghosted you after you made a joke about haggis.”

“Alright, point taken,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face like he could wipe away the last three days. His stubble rasped against his palm, a sound as raw as his voice.

You leaned forward, hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to continue, click and forget.” You mimed flicking a phone screen with exaggerated finality, like swatting a fly. “Unfollow. Block. Hell, unsubscribe if you’re feeling spicy. Later, if you have to fall in love again—”

“—I’ll fall in love again,” he finished flatly, parroting your words back at you. 

“Exactly. You like the idea of it—the rush, the playlist-making, the way she’d steal your jumpers and never give them back. But you’re out here competing with strangers now. Strangers.”

His frown deepened. “What’s that mean?”

“The ones she’s chasing. The ones she’ll lie to next. The ones who’ll think her ‘good vibes only’ shite is deep.” You pull back, shrug then continue, “Sure, she’s pretty. But let her stay on that trip, posting sunsets and pretending she’s the main character. But when she lands? No one’s gonna clap. No one’s gonna care that she traded your music for some bloke’s yacht pics.”

James’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.

You softened, nudging his knee with yours. “One day, she’ll be forty-five, scrolling her ‘hot girl era’ highlights, and it’ll hit her—oh shit, the best thing I ever had was that idiot who wrote me a song. And you?” You grinned, sharp and teasing, nudging his shoulder again. “You’ll be too busy making a banger song.”

He stared at you, eyes red-rimmed and too bright, before chuckling wetly. “You’re such a prick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

James swiped at his face with his sleeve, but the tension in his shoulders had unravelled. He stared at the snapped guitar string, coiled like a question mark on the desk, before his voice broke the stillness—smaller now, stripped of bravado.

“D’you ever think maybe I’m just bad at it?”

You tilted your head. “Bad at what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at the room, the lyrics, and the phone sitting on top of the band tees. “Love. Or whatever the hell I keep chasing. What if it’s not her? What if it’s me? Just… forever the bloke who writes songs about people who leave?”

The admission hung in the air, fragile as the dust motes drifting through the laptop’s glow. You studied him—the way his hands trembled slightly, the crack in his voice he couldn’t quite smother. This wasn’t the usual self-deprecating joke. This was the bone-deep doubt he’d never let slip before.

You waited until he met your gaze. “You’re not bad at it. You’re just loud about it. Most people love quietly. You?” You nodded at the crumpled lyrics. “You turn it into art. Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”

He scoffed, but it lacked heat. “Art that nobody hears.”

“So finish the song.”

“What’s the point? She’s not—”

“Not for her,” you cut in, rolling your eyes playfully. “For you. For the next person. For the twats like me who’ll eat crisps and listen to you whinge at 3 a.m.”

He hesitated, fingers brushing the laptop’s trackpad. The cursor blinked beside the unfinished line: “I hope your new—”

“Or,” you added, softer, “delete it. Burn it. Write about Otto. But don’t let her take this from you too.”

James exhaled sharply, as if the words had punched through a dam. For a heartbeat, you thought he might cry—but then he dragged a hand through his hair, sniffed hard, and muttered, “Fuck it. ‘Jasmine Lies’ is a banger title. Might as well make it a proper one.”

He deleted the struck-through lyrics, typing fast, almost defiant:

I hope your new fling knows the chords to this song— Hope he fucks up the bridge, and the joke’s on him all along.

You grinned. “There he is.”

“Piss off,” he said, but he saved the file, shoulders slumping like he’d set down a weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying.

Outside, the rain slowed to a drizzle. Otto leapt onto the bed, kneading James’s leg with claws-out precision. “Ow—Christ, Otto—” James softly shoved the cat aside, but there it was—the ghost of his real smile, tentative but true. Not fixed. Not yet. But trying.

This is the song that inspired this fic! I hope people like it, it's the first time I've done something platonic, so I hope I hit the mark!

[lovelyfantasia]

Only Science Can Explain It

Seth Brundle x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Who knew being stood up on date could lead you to reuniting with your favorite professor from college? With fate leading you two seeing each other again, you let fate decide what would become of you two by the end of the night.

WARNINGS: 18+, age gap (10 years), unprotected sex, professor trope (not his student anymore, but still)

NOTED: gender neutral bestie

A/N: This one has been collecting dust in my drafts for over a month. With the amount of times I've reread this and edited, it was time for it to see the light of day. This is my first, and certainly not my last, Seth Brundle imagine. Enjoy :)

WORDCOUNT: 5,585

<><><>

Late April of 1986. Cambridge, Massachusetts…

The sun was having no sympathy on your eyes as you walked from his car to your small bungalow home. Sunglasses were nowhere to be found and a headache was forming. 

A lack of sleep can do that to you, but you could care less. It was the first time in a long time where you found it completely worth it. Hell, you would do it all over again if you could. 

“Jesus, Y/N, I thought you died or something!” your roommate, Y/B/F/N exclaimed when you made your way into the home sheepishly. 

“I’m very much alive and somewhat dead, so there’s that.” You walk right past them to go to your room. After the physicality of last night you knew a shower was in order to freshen up. Though, you’re going to be upset washing the smell of him off your body. 

The grip of his hands on your hips are like ghosts for you; knowing it’s not there, but you can still feel that grasp. He was the last person you thought was going to be as rough as he was. But seeing his muscles bulge, his curls defining from sweat, his eyes blown out from the haze you had him in, you truly underestimated his clearly talented abilities. 

“So…where exactly were you?” your roommate made you jump as you yelped a little and turned to see them leaning up against your doorframe. Arms crossed with a smirk on their face, Y/B/F/N had a sneaky suspicion of how you enjoyed your night. 

You really weren’t sure about revealing the truth. Your roommate knew who he was, but you know their reaction is going to be priceless if you tell your tale. 

“Before I tell you the story I just want to say the person I was with totally isn’t my type. Just noting before I tell you who it is.”

“The fact that you have to preface this by saying that makes this more enticing,” you plant your face in your hands and let out an exhausted huff. “Now spill.”

One deep breath in, one good long exhale. 

“Do you remember our professor from the science department that we got a lot for classes? Professor Brundle- well, Seth Brundle?”

Their eyes lit up and walked into your room, now standing in front of your bed.

“Oh my God, yes! I truly still don’t know how he managed to pass me, but he adored you. He had his quirks, but he was the best.” 

You just stared at them. Just a smile on your face while you wait for the pieces to connect in their brain. For someone who has their bachelors in physics, common sense sometimes took a little bit to work. 

The eyes bug out of their head while the jaw drops. There it is. 

“NO-”

“Just hear me out, for the love of God!”

<><><>

Last night…

No way this was happening to you. You did not wear your good dress and got your hair done for you to be stood up on a date. Finance guys are the bane to womens’ existence and you were aware of that, but you had a sliver of hope this one was different. 

It’s been almost a full hour since your planned meet-up time at the popular restaurant/bar, Saoirse’s. 8 o’clock on a Friday and here you were, sitting at a bar where you used to come in your college days. With the Massachusetts Institute of Technology – or just M.I.T. – being an eight minute drive away from Saoirse’s it was a hot spot for students to invade on Saturday nights. 

The nostalgia of those days come back to you, but they’re only recent memories as you’re now almost a whole year post-grad. 23 with a full-time job at a research lab, still living with your college roommate in a small house you two are renting out, and trying to enjoy your 20s in the midst of going into the real world. 

Of course part of the stress is the attempt of making something of your love life. So far, not going too well. 

As you were about to chug your martini and leave, you saw a familiar man make his way up to the bar. His hair is now longer yet his style of suits stays the same. 

Professor Brundle, molecular physicists. 

He was your favorite professor. You two had the kind of relationship where you’d show up to his office hours to just chill out in one of the chairs and update him about your life. As time went on he grew comfortable sharing personal bits of his life to you. By senior year you had full access to his office, secretly giving you a key for when you needed alone time to destress while he wasn’t there. 

Seth knew there was something about you when it came to potential. He picked up right away that you weren’t all that afraid of challenges of what physics threw at you, but that your perfectionism could be the death of you. He would know because that was him. To save you from yourself, he paid you a bit more attention than others. His presence in your school life gave you balance to not let it all get to your sanity. 

Keeping in contact was supposed to happen, but never launched and you went your separate ways. 

“Professor Brundle?” Seth turns his head to your direction and sees you. Your off-the-shoulder dark maroon dress hugging you in all the right places, hair perfectly done, minimal makeup to showcase the beauty that speaks for itself. 

A smile slowly spreads on his face and he makes his way over to you. You hop off the tall bar chair to be able to envelope him in a hug. You forgot that there was quite a height difference, so Seth had to bend a bit. Even in your heels he still towered over you.

“How are you? How long has it been- almost a whole year? W-what are you doing here?” The shock was settling in that it really was you. 

His little secret is that he does miss seeing you. From in his classes when he’s teaching, your random appearances at his office, to walking together to his class since you were usually one of the first people to arrive. From time to time he’s debated with himself if it was a crush on you making him feel this way. He had your phone number for a whole year yet couldn’t bring himself to reach out to you. 

Now that you aren’t his student anymore, he doesn’t trust his heart on how it would feel to continue whatever bond was created. With you in front of him right now, looking the way you do, he was proving himself right. 

“I’m good! Got that position you helped me search high and low for, still living with Y/B/F/N on the outskirts of town. Ya know, just taking post-grad life one day at a time.”

“My goodness, that’s fantastic to hear. Are you expecting someone or just here alone? I know you’re one for your alone time.” you slightly blushed that he remembered such a small fact about you. What you didn’t know is that he remembered practically everything you told him about yourself. Personality characteristics, hobbies you enjoyed, interests, he clung onto every word. 

At the thought of you, Seth finds himself in a constant battle on convincing himself he never had nor will have feelings for you. 

“Well, I actually got stood up by some guy. He was supposed to be here an hour ago, but it’s whatever. It’s what I get for giving one of those douche-baggy finance types a chance.” What a fucking idiot, Seth thought to himself. If he was 23 again and got a chance with you, he would’ve hated himself if he managed to fuck it up. 

“Jeez, Y/N, I’m really sorry. Some guys just will never know a good thing when it’s in front of them, especially with someone like you.” You don’t know why his words are having such an affect on you, but the blushing comes back. Seth does notice your slight flustered demeanor and is devilishly applauding himself. 

“Are you here by yourself too?”

“Yeah. Late night at the school in my office. Finals are around the corner and I have to mentally prepare myself just as much as my students do. Well, you remember how it all goes.” you two exchange a small laugh. 

You were not about to waste this night away. Between how hot you felt and your old professor standing before you, your impulsiveness was wanting to get the best of you. 

“Would you like to get a table with me?” Seth is surprised that you asked, but can’t pass up this chance. The night was young and the universe just handed you to him on a silver platter. 

“Of course.”

<><><>

The crowd picks up after an hour passes. You stopped drinking for the night, wanting to be clear minded to catch up with Professor Brundle. The last thing you wanted was to be buzzed while talking about science with a man who’s well-known in his field for his work. 

Two waters and a plate of fries sit between you two as you go on about your cherished college memories, the good and ugly of late night studying and rowdy parties. 

“My party girl days are pretty much behind me. I now enjoy sipping and relaxing instead of chugging from a beer keg.” a hearty chuckle comes from the professor as he chews on a fry. With how well you kept your grades up, he was astonished to hear all this from you. You had people fooled that you didn’t have a life outside of your busy academic life and you were okay with that. The only expectations you had to meet were your own and that’s a rule of thumb you still stand by. 

While he went on about upcoming conventions he has to attend, you start to take him in. He took his blazer jacket off, leaving him in his white button down and gray slacks. To get more comfortable he took off his red tie and rolled up his sleeves. He did that while watching you talk about your job with a smirk on his face and it made your heart race quicken. That was a first for you in his presence.

When you were his student you knew there was no denying how handsome you thought he was. Developing full blown feelings, on the other hand, was useless to you. If you can’t act upon them, then you didn’t want them. Wasted brain space, you thought. If you were going to yearn for someone, you wanted to be able to make them yours.

But now things are completely different and he was yours for the taking. A part of you felt it was still wrong to try anything with him since he was your professor at one point. Fact of the matter is that you are no longer a student at M.I.T, no longer his student, and he was up for grabs.

You were not appreciating how your body and mind was betraying you while you observed him. The decision now was if you were going to give your senses that satisfaction. 

“No fucking shit,” you mumbled to yourself as your attention was caught by something much worse. Your date with an arm around another girl, shuffling their way through some people to get to the bar. You knew all too well that comparison is a killer of self confidence, but you couldn’t help it at the sight of the woman he had with him. 

“What’s wrong?”

“In a twist of events, my date is here with another woman.” Seth doesn’t even bother to see who the shit-head guy is. He was too busy looking at your face while you stared at the pair at the bar. It was breaking his heart seeing the look you had on your face.  

One thing about Seth is that when it comes to social skills with strangers he can be awkward at times. Right now, his anger is exceeding whatever issues he had with that. He has a terrible but hilarious idea of how to ruin that guy’s night and put a smile on your face. 

“Here, take my coat, meet me by the door.”

“Professor Brundle-”

“Trust me on this,” he stands in front of you and hands you his coat. With the both of you holding onto it, he smiles and looks into your eyes more than he should’ve. “And no more calling me Professor Brundle. You can call me Seth now,” he says and walks off. 

You don’t know why you found that so hot. All night since seeing him you’ve been trying to wrap your mind around why you’re finding your old professor so attractive to the point of seeing him as sexy. He’s not what you go for at all. You’ve never ventured with the more nerdy guys, especially older men at that. But this combo is leaving a new, sweet taste on your tongue that you could get used to. 

Your eyes spot Seth from the entrance door, talking to your date. You just hope he doesn’t embarrass you in any sort of way that could lead to making a scene. Whatever he said worked because the man looks flustered and trying to explain himself to the woman in front of him. She looks shocked and walks away from him in the opposite direction. 

“Okay, let’s get out of here!” Seth leads you out with his right hand on the small of your back. His touch left you feeling wanting more of it – everywhere else on your body. 

“What the hell did you say to him?”

“I may have pretended to know him and thanked him for an exquisite experience the other night at his place.” he mischievously smiles and you let out a cackle. Catching your breath from the laugh, you were about to open the door, but Seth beat you to it. 

“You think I’m going to let you open doors for yourself? C’mon now.” 

Jesus, guys your age you’ve encountered could never. Their chivalry has yet to kick in meanwhile Seth was as old school as they came. Unfortunately, the bar of expectations out of the men nowadays is dropping as the years roll by.

“Thank you,” a soft smirk is planted on your face while you look him in the eyes as you make your way into the car. “How’d you know that was going to work on them?” you ask him once he sits in the driver seat. 

“What I didn’t tell you is that I know of the woman he was with. One of my buddies in my department at the school, she’s his girlfriend’s friend. She is homophobic, I do not like her at all, so they got what was coming to them tonight since they both suck as people, clearly. And it’s perfect that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even remember who I am.” He revs the engine on and you were ready to let him put his key in your ignition. 

“Oh, I meant to ask: did you want me to drop you off at your place? You’re more than welcomed to come back to my apartment too since we still have some catching up to do,” he rambled on. Not his best excuse to hide his feelings for not wanting this night to end. 

“We can go back to yours,” you say to his surprise. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

<><><>

His apartment was kind of out of the ordinary, but then again, Seth was an out of the ordinary person. The place matched him: half living space and half lab, organized but still somewhat chaotic, and cozy. 

It was a very open kind of space, but you put the pieces together that this technically wasn’t supposed to be a traditional apartment. He managed to turn what is supposed to be his lab into his apartment for the price of one. You started remembering that he has vaguely talked about this before and how bewildered you were when you found out. 

“Now how in the hell did you manage to get that piano up here?” 

“Don’t even get me started. It was a nightmare that almost landed me a broken toe,” you giggle and set your purse on the couch. “Would you like anything to drink? Water, wine, champagne I have yet to pop open?”

“Could I please have some water? No use for a perfectly good bottle of champagne to be popped when there’s nothing to celebrate.”

“We could celebrate this reunion, if we really wanted to find an excuse to have some,” he says as he hands you your water. Your hands brush and the both of you are trying to hold it together, even after such a miniscule touch. The same thought process crossed your minds’: popping the champagne can increase the chances of something happening, but you wouldn’t want to have it occur this way. Then again, self control exists. 

Yeah, you two are adults with self control that can keep this at bay. 

“Honestly, why not?” Seth widely smiles at you, then goes to get two cups of champagne. 

A few cups and some scoops of mint chocolate chip ice cream later, you two weren’t able to shut up. Various topics were discussed, geeking out on science, him explaining his teleportation ideas, the night was never ending for you two. 

His fingers work their magic with playing beautiful music on his piano. Your arm is resting atop of it with your chin on your palm, watching him. 

“Physics and piano skills, who knew?” he snorts a bit from your comment and gestures with his eyes for you to come sit next to him on the bench. You obeyed and realized how close you sat next to him until you felt your legs brushing up against each other. His cologne warps your mind for the second time that night. 

Like you thought, you have self control and this man was just your professor a year ago. 

“Do you know how to play?”

“Oh, it’s been awhile for me.”

“Let’s see that muscle memory, then,” and you start playing some keys while he’s going at it too. It sounds jumbled, but also good at the same time. It makes you giggle, this whole moment. Honestly, you felt that it was quite sweet and endearing. You two are just adults rekindling a bond that you thought you would never get to endure again with him. 

Your left hand moves on top of his right one as you two were reaching for the same keys. His skin was at the level of flower petal softness. Your mind brings that to a whole other dimension you never thought it would go when it came to Professor Brundle. The wonder of how those soft hands would feel on your bare skin. 

“Oh- I’m sorry,” you say and retreat your hand towards yourself. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the pent up denial he had, but whatever it was possessed Seth to grab that same hand and bring to his lips for a kiss. 

Your heart fell in the pit of your stomach. It’s almost as if you could hear the impact of the fall.

Before you knew it, you both were leaning into each other. Self control was banging on the wall of your brain, but that little voice was muffled out. 

It went silent once Seth’s lips were on yours. 

Never has a kiss felt so wrong and right simultaneously before. It felt like every satisfying little thing coming together that can bring a smile to your face. The pop of a champagne bottle on New Years Eve. The first firework to hit the sky on the Fourth of July. The sight of the first snowfall during Winter. 

You would’ve taken him on that bench at that moment if you could. Of course, the reality was the opposite. 

You were the one to pull away, not being able to look him in the eye after what just occurred. That little voice was coming in loud and clear now. 

“I should probably get going home.”

Seth was ready to admit defeat. Wave his white flag and accept that he only got a kiss. It proved everything he was pushing away since last year and he knew it was going to drive him crazy from now on.  

Sometimes craziness can drive a person to confidence that they never knew they had. 

“You’re more than welcome to stay. And before you say anything: you can borrow my clothes to sleep in and I will gladly take the couch. Plus, who wants to take a taxi at this hour anyway?” You give him a look and he puts his hands up in defense. “I swear, this is out of pure intentions despite what we just did.”

You couldn't help but to believe him. You could just see it in his face because it was the same energy he gave you when handing you over the duplicate key to his office. Being this trusting of a man was never part of you, but Seth was the only exception. 

“Fine, you win. I request a baggy t-shirt and a pair of boxers, though.”

“Making my palace yours already?” He cracks a smile and gets up from the bench. You follow him into his bedroom area, his bed made and looking divinely comfy for you to slip in. “Here you go. One baggy top and a pair of boxers. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” you nod and feel the heat in your neck surface from the eye contact you had with him. 

A good hour or so has passed. The place is completely dark except for the lighting shining through his windows. The ceiling has become the best place for you to stare at as you’re trying to sleep. Nothing is working – for the both of you. That kiss reigns over your thoughts’ with an iron grip. 

As expected, this led to the never ending list of questions while also pondering what exactly would’ve happened if you never broke away from the kiss. 

You were ready to find out what the night would’ve looked like if you didn’t pull away. 

You sprang out of the bed and turned the corner to go to the couch, but come face first into Seth’s chest. Before you could stumble backwards, he catches you by your waist. 

“Well hello to you too,” he says with a laugh. His hair was more curly and tad messier from the pillow he was laying on. The only thing he had on was pajama bottoms, no shirt covering his toned upper body. You had no idea what he was hiding under those suits after all these years. 

You didn’t know what to say or how to explain what you were feeling towards him. Words fell short, but you reaching up to grab his face and kissing him said everything you needed to get out. 

Seth got the memo real quick and started walking you backwards towards his bed without breaking the kiss. You fall back onto the bed, making yourself comfortable as you watch him climb over you. God, if only college you would be a fly on the wall right now. 

His head was spinning. He was focusing on you intently while trying to grasp that this was happening. You both could read each other; a cocktail of nervousness and neediness radiating. 

You connect to his lips once again, then take off the white t-shirt he let you borrow. If he was in awe of you in the dress you were wearing, then he was in heaven seeing you almost naked. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N,” he whispers, causing you to blush. 

“Like what you see?”

“How about I show you just how much I like it,” he dives back in,  going for your neck. Your fingers find their way to his hair, running them through it and tugging on it when he gets a little rough. 

His mouth trails a line of kisses from your jaw all the way down to your breasts. Seth knew not to rush his work as the outcomes never came out the way he wanted it to. Taking his time to get it just right was his forte. He was doing exactly that to your body all with his lips, now peppering kisses on your breasts, licking your nipples, and feeling up your clothed sex to build you up right where he wants you. He was starting to feel your wetness through the cotton of the boxers, a low groan escaping him at the touch. 

“Seth, this all feels fucking fantastic, but I’m losing it over here.” he looks up at your a smirk.  He’s turned into a totally different person before you.

“And what exactly do you want? I need words, baby. Can’t give you what you need without the proper instructions,” and he goes back to sucking on your nipple. Your fingers tighten their grip on his hair as you arch your back from the pleasure ripping through you. 

“I-I need you, please.”

“But you already have me-”

“Oh, you know what I mean! Fuck me!” your sexual frustrations got the best of you – as well as his obvious teasing. 

“My goodness, Y/N, you could’ve just said that,” Seth says in a mocking tone. 

He slides the boxers you were wearing down your smooth legs, having you completely naked in front of him. He’s been with gorgeous women, no doubt about that, but you just became the pinnacle of a Goddess for him. 

You left him speechless. 

His trance was broken when he felt your hands grabbing at his waistband, pulling them down. His hardened cock sprang out and your eyebrows shot up real quick. You always heard the jokes that the nerdy ones have the packages, but you weren’t a firm believer. Until now.

“Like what you see?” he asked you in a husky tone, his eyes set on yours. That sweet but serious professor you once had is temporarily dead. If this is how he is all the time in bed, you weren’t giving him up that easily. 

“Fuck yes,” and the kissing resumed, harder and rougher this time. He even bites on your bottom lip and tugs on it a bit. You were just about ready to explode. 

Right when he could feel where he needed to be, he pushed in slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. 

The ecstasy was revving up for the both of you, the want of going animalistic on each other bubbling to the surface. Each thrust Seth did, the more feral you felt yourself getting. You understood why he was being somewhat gentle, not wanting to escalate things too quickly. 

It was when he was quickening his pace that your nails had a mind of their own, scratching down his back. You knew for sure that was going to leave marks in the morning. 

“Seth, yes, yes- oh my fuck!-” he kept a hard, steady pace that was sending your eyes in the back of your head. This was sheet gripping, profanity screaming, nail scratching sex that you’ve been searching for since the first time you ever experienced it. 

He stops and flips you two, you being on top of him now. You weren’t stopping what you started and started to ride him. To get that itch from this position, you go into a squat with your feet planted on the bed. 

The light bulb went off in Seth’s brain and he makes you lift yourself a bit, then mercilessly pounds into you. The sound alone make you dizzy, but seeing the look on his face, watching himself fuck into you makes you about to snap. 

“Baby, I’m close,” you cry out, but that just fuels him to keep going. 

“You really want to come? Get those fingers down there for me, will you?” without hesitation you slip your middle finger on your very wet clit and start rubbing it. 

It didn’t take long until your orgasm hit you, your moans heightened to almost a scream. Seth was slick with sweat, but he couldn’t stop now that you were screaming his name over and over, sounding heavenly to his ears with an angel on top of him. 

He stops and lets you go back to riding him like you were. Seth sits up and starts guiding your grind by his hands on your ass. Your high is still cascading over your body, still wanting more. You place your hands on the sides of his face and make him look up at you in the eyes. 

You’re going to be mine, you thought to yourself with his hazel eyes setting you on fire. 

Between the sloppy kissing and you picking up your pace, Seth was ready to bust. 

“C’mon, professor, I know you want to come for me.” 

That little nickname was what sent him over the edge. He knew exactly what you were doing, using that out of all things to push the buttons of his twisted fantasy. Wet dreams have occurred, ones where he wasn’t proud of since you were the star of them. They started for him right before your graduation and it was that little nickname that would roll off your lips. 

Hearing it in front of him, from you of all people, had his cock twitch inside you. His grip on your ass tightened – definitely going to leave slight bruising by the morning – as he was releasing. The moans were becoming uncontrollable and he even slapped your ass from the heightened pleasure he’s felt for the first time in forever.

Seeing the state he was in, needing to hold onto you for dear life while you felt his cock twitch from coming stroked your ego a tad. Such a dominant lover turned pathetic for you was so appetizing to you. 

You climb off him and plop down on the bed, your head hitting the perfect spot on the pillow. It seemed to you your restlessness was cured. 

“Where are you going?” Seth goes to his bathroom and comes back with a small damp rag to clean you up with. 

“I am a gentleman before an animal in the sack,” and you cackle out a laugh, then he goes to help clean you up a bit. Him seeing his cum drip out of you was fuel for his cock to harden in the next five minutes. He was just praying you were wanting another round. 

You didn’t even want to know what time it was. It didn’t matter though because you were willing to fuck him until you knocked out. 

“Round two?” you asked, filling the silence of the room. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” and you laugh into the sweet, all consuming kiss he gives you. 

<><><>

Present day…

Y/B/F/N’s jaw was on the floor while their hands were covering their mouth. They were in utter shock and you just sat there, slightly disassociating at the memories of the night before.

“Do not tell me you’re having sex flashbacks in front of me right now!”

“Huh- No! Anyway, yes, it happened. Yes, it was life changing sex…and yes, I indeed fucked my old professor. Did I mention he’s 34?” and now their eyes bugged out of their head. 

They looked at you with the “okay, what happened next?” face. 

“That’s it? Nothing in the works?”

“Well-” then the phone started ringing. “Ugh, fuck, let me get that,” and you trot to the phone on the wall near the kitchen. “Hello, Y/N speaking.”

“So you did give me the right number.” His voice sends chills down your spine in such a way that you want to lean against the wall and slide down. 

“You thought I was going to give you a fake? I see how you think of me now, Brundle and I’m offended.” You can feel the cartoon hearts pop above your head after hearing his hearty laugh. He’s quickly turning you into a mush and you only spent one night with him.

“I was actually calling to see if I can take you on a proper date. We can do whatever you want, no issue, sweetheart.” you turn your head to see your roommate silently cheering you on, knowing you were on the phone with him. 

“If I really have the choice, then what I would want to do would keep us cooped up in your apartment.”

“Easy there, tiger. You’ll be getting your fixins’, don’t you worry about a thing.” you could’ve screamed from the flirtiness alone. You’re too happy and pleased that you got to unlock this side of a man who used to show his introvertedness in front of you. 

“Okay, okay, fine. We can take this slow, nothing too nice yet. Want to kick it old school and have a lunch date in your office? For old times sake?” Seth was silently celebrating while his voice gave a cool, calm, and collected answer. 

“It’s a date.”

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 7 Prompt: Wayne

note: this one is in Wayne's POV and it's a little different than how I usually write, but it means the absolute world to me, so I hope you all enjoy it!

read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

Wayne Munson remembers the exact moment he found out he was going to be an uncle. 

It was a frigid January morning in Hawkins. The heater in the Munsons’ trailer had stopped working a week before, and Wayne had been too busy working days and taking night classes at the junior college in the next town over to fix it. 

His mama had said she would call Al to come help, but Wayne knew the odds of him stopping by were slim to numb. He had better things to do than check in on his mother and younger brother. Things like keeping the Hawkins police department busy with his petty crime schemes and treating his latest girlfriend with little to no respect. A packed schedule in Al’s eyes. 

So, when Wayne stepped out of the trailer that January morning, bundled in his worn winter coat, he nearly tripped and fell on his ass when he spotted Al on the hood of his car, leisurely smoking a cigarette. 

“Evelyn is pregnant,” Al said between puffs of smoke. “She’s keeping it. M’gonna be a pa.” 

A range of emotions washed over Wayne at that moment. Anxiety for Al and Evelyn and their unborn child. Al wasn’t exactly father material, and it’s not like they had a dad to learn from. Happiness for their family and the joy a new baby would bring the Munson’s. Worry, mainly for Evelyn and the baby, but also for Al and how something like this was going to affect the small gains he’d made that year. 

But mostly, and Wayne would never tell anyone this, he felt jealous. 

Wayne was the one who babysat the neighbor kids when they were younger to make a quick buck while Al schemed. Wayne was the one who always waved to babies in the grocery store line. The one who always snuck his coworkers’ kids candy at the annual Fourth of July BBQs. And remembered to send well wishes home on their birthdays. 

Wayne was the one who loved kids. Who wanted kids. But would never, ever get to have kids for reasons he was too ashamed to admit most days. 

Unlike Al, who would have let the jealousy fester into something nasty, Wayne choked it all down and gave in to the happier emotions. Promising to be there for Al and Evelyn and his new nephew. 

A promise he kept for all nine months of Evelyn’s pregnancy (going on midnight craving runs when Evelyn moved into the Munson trailer after getting kicked out of her own house and then nervously pacing the maternity ward on Halloween night when she finally went into active labor after three false alarms). He kept his promise for the entire first year of Eddie’s life. Helping with feedings and changings. And anything else he could do. 

Wayne was the one to drive Evelyn and Eddie to the hospital the first time he caught a cold and wouldn’t stop coughing. He was there the first time Evelyn fed him mushy baby food that Eddie ended up spitting up all over the place. He saw Eddie roll over for the first time and crawl. He was even there for Eddie’s first nonsensical word — a bastard version of “mama” that sent Evelyn into hysterics and had Al rolling his eyes. 

Wayne was ready to be there for all of Eddie’s first, but then fate reared its ugly, no-good, wicked head, and suddenly, Wayne was being shipped off to boot camp to fight in a war he spent the last three years protesting against. 

But his birthday was called, and Wayne had no choice but to suit up and fight. 

Well, no, that’s not true. 

There was one way to get out of the draft. 

But the thought of admitting to having homosexual tendencies was more terrifying than dying overseas. So, he kept his mouth shut and went and did his time. 

Five years to be exact. 

Five grueling, traumatic, waste of his youth years. 

Most importantly, five years without his nephew. 

Eddie was six, almost seven years old, when Wayne finally made it back home to Hawkins. Unruly curls, just like Wayne once had before the military got involved. Big brown eyes that, despite only being 7, he knew how to use to get him out of trouble. And a brilliant, imaginative mind that captivated Wayne the moment he scooped Eddie into his arms after coming home and Eddie asked, “Ma, who is this bald guy? And why is he trying to squeeze the poop out of me?” 

Wayne knew he’d never get those five years back, but he promised himself to try and make up for them every chance he got. And so “Waynesdays” was born. 

Every third Wednesday of the month, Wayne would spend with Eddie. Sometimes, he’d show up at Evelyn and Al’s trailer early in the morning to pick Eddie up before he went off to school. With Evelyn’s permission, Eddie would ditch and they’d spend the day uncle-nephew bonding. Other times, Wayne would be waiting outside the gates of Eddie’s school, ready to whisk him away as soon as the dismissal bell rang. 

(“Uncle Wayne, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie would shout, running into Wayne’s arm with enough force to send them toppling into the grass. The falls weren’t great for Wayne’s war-torn body, but he never complained. Nothing a frozen bag of peas and a cigarette couldn’t fix the next morning.) 

Whatever the case, the third Wednesday of every month was dedicated to them. 

The first few years, it was simple things. Wayne would take Eddie out for ice cream before stopping at the library. They’d spend hours walking up and down the aisles. Wayne telling Eddie stories that rivaled the books on the shelves. They’d go antiquating — a hobby Wayne inherited from his own mother that Eddie seemingly inherited when he took an interest in Garfield merchandise. 

(“He’s just so fat, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie laughed, squeezing the plush belly of a Garfield stuffed animal. “I want to be fat like him one day! Don’t you?”) 

As Eddie got older, their adventures stretched beyond the Hawkins city limits. Wayne took him to Indianapolis at least twice a year. Introduced him to music. Took him to see movies at the fancy cineplex in the city that sold a tub of popcorn bigger than Eddie’s head. He even promised to take Eddie to the colorful bar they always passed as soon as he turned 21. 

(“But that’s such a long time away,” Eddie had whined, grubby fingers pressed into the glass of the window as he peered inside. “Are you sure I can’t go in there now? They have an arcade machine! Those are for kids!”)

In the summers, Waynesday because Waynesweek. 

When Eddie was younger, they spent the week camping. Two sleeping bags side by side in a tent. They’d trade imaginative stories around a campfire and roast marshmallows until they were burnt to a crisp. The trips were hard on Wayne at first — bringing back memories of the war. But seeing Eddie smile and roll around in mud without a care in the world was worth every sleepless night. 

(“If I catch the frog, can I bring it home?” he shouted one summer, arms already elbow-deep in the swampy puddle. “I promise to take care of it!” 

“M’sure you would, boy,” Wayne said, cigarette between his lips. “But your ma would kill me if I let ya bring a frog into r’home. You know she’s afraid of ‘em.”)

Eventually, Eddie grew out of camping, and then their summer weeks were spent lounging in the trailer. They’d go days without leaving, living off of the groceries they stocked up on on the first day of Waynesweek. The couch always had a permanent butt dent after those weeks, but Wayne loved them all the same. Especially the ones that were spent hunched over board games and later hunched over scribbled-out notes and too many-sided die as Eddie explained some new, complex game to him. 

(“Okay, Uncle Wayne, so now that you made it to the fortress wall, you have to roll this one,” he said, passing Wayne a hexagon-looking dice. “And then whatever you get, we multiply it by the number here, and then if it’s high enough, you get to come inside.” 

“Now how come you can do multiplication in this game, but your ma says you got a bad grade on your last math test?” Wayne asked, brows raised as he rattled the die in his hands. 

“‘Cause school math is boring!” Eddie said, rolling those big brown eyes of his. “There’s no dragons in Ms. Tabbot’s class. Just boring old numbers!”)

Waynesday was a tradition Wayne held so near and dear to his heart that even after Evelyn unexpectedly passed away, Al landed himself permanently behind and Eddie ended up moving into Wayne’s trailer, he still kept up. 

Sure, things got a bit more complicated between them now that they saw each other every day, multiple times a day, with no breaks. They sure got on each other nerves a bit more.

(“Dammit, Eds,” Wayne cursed, tripping over a pair of Eddie’s boots thrown haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “What’d I say about leavin’ these things lyin’ ‘round. They’ve got a home, put’m there.” 

“Fine,” Eddie groaned, coming out of his bedroom to pick up the shoes. “But then stop leaving your half-drank coffee cups in the bathroom! Why are you even taking it in there?”) 

And they fought, like most children do with the authority figures in their lives. 

(“That’s the second time Hop has let you off with a warning,” Wayne tsked, stalking behind Eddie as they climbed up the few steps to the trailer. “Neither of us are gonna be too nice if it happens again.” 

“You make it sound like I was stealing. I ditched one class. It’s no big deal.” 

“Those grades of yours say otherwise.” 

Eddie growled, rolling his eyes as he tore through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a snack. “This again? My grades are fine, Wayne. Okay. Stop worrying!”)

Sure, things were tough at times, but they also learned some important things about each, too. Things neither one of them thought they’d ever share in common with someone in Hawkins, Indiana. 

(“Where ya going, boy?” Wayne asked one night a few years ago when he walked into the trailer to find Eddie shoving random things into a duffle bag. The same duffle bag that Wayne had carefully placed in the backseat of the truck all those years ago when he picked up Eddie for the final time. 

“M’leaving,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “And don’t even try to stop me, Wayne. Trust me, you’re not going to want me anymore.” 

A million and one things ran through Wayne’s head in that moment. Had Hopper caught Eddie ditching school again? Had he got his hands on that letter from Al ,Wayne had been hiding in the junk drawer? Was Eddie in some kind of trouble? Bigger trouble than ditching school and smoking pot at the quarry?” 

“Boy, what are you talkin’ about?” Wayne asked, stalking over to where Eddie was currently shoving tape after tape into the duffle bag. “M’always gonna want ya ‘round.” 

Eddie scoffed and kept his eyes trained on the tapes. It was easy for Wayne to see that Eddie was barely holding it together. The tapes shook in his hands and his growing hair did little to shield his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Eddie,” Wayne sighed, slowly lowering himself to the ground despite the protests of his body. “Come on, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.” 

“You—you can’t. Not with this,” Eddie said, violently shaking his head. And then, in a moment of bravery, Eddie lifted his head and looked Wayne square in the eyes and said, “I’m gay, Wayne. Okay? That’s why m’leaving. And don’t even—“ 

Wayne cut Eddie off before he could finish whatever insult or wrong assumption was sure to follow. He pulled Eddie into his arms, tucked the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and held him tight. The same way he did all those years ago when he had to be the one to tell the boy that his ma had passed. And Eddie cried. Then and now. Big, fat, hot tears that soaked Wayne’s shirt. 

“Eds, boy, look at me,” Wayne said later when Eddie’s sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears. “You ain’t going nowhere, okay? And you ain’t alone either. I know what you’re goin’ through. M’like you, too.” 

“Y-you, you’re gay?”  

“Yeah,” Wayne said after a painfully long moment. It was a truth he had never let himself think too much about. But now, sitting in the presence of his nephew, who was more like him than he originally thought. Well, now, Wayne thought it was time to accept that part of him. Especially if it would help his nephew. “Yeah, boy. M’gay.”)

So, yeah, living with Eddie full-time had its ups and downs. But no argument, even the ones that lasted days because they were both too stubborn to apologize, was going to stop them from celebrating Waynesday every third Wednesday of the month. Nor was Eddie’s newly minted twenty-year-old selfless heart that worried way too much about Wayne. But he can’t really fault the boy for that.

(“Wayne,” Eddie had sighed just last month. “We really don’t have to keep doing this. You should be able to rest on your one real day off of the month.” 

“Nonsense boy,” Wayne said, shooing Eddie off with the back of his hand. “Only thing I want to do on my day off s’spend time with you. Unless you’re too busy for your old uncle now.” 

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “You know I always have time for you.”

“Good.” Wayne smiled. “Then get that boney ass of yours over here and let’s watch that movie you picked up before I get charged another late fee.”) 

Nothing had ever come in the way of their Waynesday tradition before, and Wayne sure as hell wasn’t going to let something break the tradition now.

“Hey, boy,” Wayne says, settling himself on the worn visitor chair in Eddie’s hospital room. “S’the 16th. Know what that means, right?” He pauses and waits for Eddie’s answer, which he knows isn’t coming. It’s been almost a month since he last heard Eddie speak, twenty days since he stumbled into Hawkins Memorial to find his nephew hooked up to machine after machine. But Wayne’s not giving up hope. Not even close. He’ll be sitting here ’til the cows come home.

“Yep,” he says eventually, patting Eddie’s IV-covered hand. “It’s Waynesday again. I’ll tell you what, time sure is gettin’ faster and m’getting older.” 

The steady, rhythmic beats of the machines keeping Eddie alive echo off the walls of the too-white room. Wayne listens to them for a moment, a weird sort of peace washing over him. S’long as they’re beeping, my boy’s still here, he thinks. 

Sighing, he reaches into the small backpack at his feet. The one he’s been carrying back and forth from the hospital when Eddie’s friends come to take the morning shift. He pulls out a blanket, shaking it out before draping it over his own body. And then he pulls out a worn paperback book. 

“Now, I know it’s been a while since we had one of those readin’ days you loved so much, but I thought maybe we could bring’m back,” he says, carefully opening the pages of the book. His hand traces down the first page, past the sticky finger stain of Eddie’s youth. “You best be patient with me, Eds. Y’know these names always trip me up. But m’gonna give it my best, okay?” 

Wayne pauses again, waiting for a response he knows he’s not going to get. And then he takes a deep breath and brings the book closer to his face. “In a hole in the ground there lives a h-hobbit.”

Eventually, the words start to blur together. Sentences turning into one long, giant word. And then, soon after, the letters start to blur too, until Wayne’s eyes are drooping and the book falls from his shaking hands into his awaiting lap. 

It’s not long after that Wayne’s soft snores fall into a steady rhythm with the beeping of Eddie’s machine. 

Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. 

And so it goes for several hours until—

Beep, beep, beepbeepbeepbeep. 

Wayne shoots out of the chair, wobbly feet struggling to find their footing as he turns to the bed. Eddie’s lying there, like he always is, except this time, his big brown eyes stare back at him. Full of life and love and fear as he reaches a weak, shaky hand up to claw at the tube shoved down his throat. 

He doesn’t remember calling for the nurse, but they rush into the room in an instant. Circling Eddie’s bed like an animal stalking its prey. Its minutes of chaos. Nurses running to fetch doctors. Machines beeping erratically. Alarms blaring. Orders being shouted left and right.

Someone is crying, Wayne thinks, as his ears cut through the cacophony of noise when he’s pushed into the hallway. Oh it’s me, he realizes as he reaches a hand up to his tearstained cheeks. 

And then, just as quickly as it started, the chaos dies down and Wayne is let back into the room. Just Wayne and Eddie. Alone. Alive. Together. 

He doesn’t wait a moment longer and wedges himself onto the small hospital bed next to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his frail nephew. 

“D-d-did I miss it?” Eddie stutters out.

With a gruff laugh and a tearful glance at the watch on his wrist, Wayne turns to Eddie and smiles. “No, son, you made it just in time.” He twists his arm, showing Eddie the watch. The big hand points almost completely at the 12. The smaller hand settled perfectly over the 58th tick. 

“Our streak continues,” Eddie whispers before his eyes flutter shut, and his body falls into its first machineless slumber in twenty days. 

[ctrlmay]

ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇsᴛ

sɪʀᴇɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ

★ Word count: 2k+

★ WARNINGS: Smut (mdni!!), blowjob, public sex

★ Note: need to get this out of my drafts so I can move on, and start other writing projects. Happy New Years everyone!

★ read the first part before reading this

Despite nearly losing his life a few months ago, Osamu continued his trips to the sea as he still had a business to run, but he consciously looked for you. He didn't understand why he was determined to search for the one who attempted to take his life, but he followed his heart nonetheless.

He searched for you in every inch of the ocean. Through waves and storms, he waited for the day he would catch even a glimpse of your silhouette again.

He spent days on end scanning the horizon, hope flowing through him one day when he saw a tail that was similar to yours. However, his hope turned into disappointment when a dolphin leapt from below and danced in the air, taunting him before diving back into the water.

Though he didn't give up, he continued to listen to your familiar symphony. Then, one day, when hearing echoes from deep in the waters, he looked over the edge, expecting you, only to find a whale swimming underneath his boat, teasing him with a song he should’ve known was incomparable to yours. The same occurrences continued, and you were nowhere to be found, leaving him to return to his restaurant with a boat full of ingredients and a heart that remained empty.

“Have a good day," Osamu sent off yet another satisfied customer. It was a busy day at Onigiri Miya; behind the sent-away customers were many more in line, waiting for their meal. He had a long day ahead of him. As the customer left the restaurant, one of Osamu’s employees rushed in with a panicked look on his face.

"What's going on?" Osamu's concern heightened.

"There's a creature—no, a monster by the shore," his employee exclaimed, urgency edging his voice. "The others are trying to drive it away, but it won’t leave!"

The words creature and monster weren’t the words to describe you, but upon first glance, to those who didn’t understand your beauty do come to mind. The customer and his employee didn’t get the excitement on his face, but he knew it was you.

"Stay here," Osamu instructed his employee, a determined glint in his eyes. Leaving the evening rush of hungry customers to his employee, Osamu went outside, making his way to the shore, following the yells and screams of his employees.

His eyes widened at the sight of you; he had searched everywhere for you, and there you were simultaneously on the shore, your otherworldly form exposed for everyone to see while you sneered at two of Osamu’s employees, who used sharp sticks in an attempt to ward you away. His heart skipped a beat, a wave of protectiveness washing over him.

“Hey, stop!” Osamu raised his voice, grabbing the sticks from the hands of his employees.

"B-but boss, it's a monster!" One of them protested, their voice trembling. Offended by their choice of words, you gave them a fierce snarl as a warning, and they silenced their objections, stumbling back away from you.

"Let me handle this." Osamu's voice was softer now, a gentle reassurance as he looked at you with a mixture of concern and relief. "You two, get back inside."

“You hear that? You’re dead meat!” One employee taunted, feeling more confident with Osamu there.

"Yeah, maybe the boss will make you into a good Onigiri snack!” The two employees snickered at you behind Osamus' back, but their laughter quickly died as you bared your teeth, revealing your razor teeth, sending them retreating, tripping over their feet, and back inside the restaurant.

Osamu's words tumbled out when his employees were out of sight: "Why are you here?"

You regarded him with a familiar smile. "Did you miss me, sailor man?" Your voice was sultry and enticing, as he remembered.

Osamu's heart raced as he found himself slowly falling into your trap of allure, though he knew how to avoid it. "No," he lied, his voice soft but determined. "Go back into the water before someone sees."

Your laughter danced on the sea breeze, sending shivers down his spine.

"Why? Won’t you protect me, sailor man?"

"Stop calling me that. And get back; there are people everywhere." He repeated.

Though you weren't worried about anyone else, there was a reason you came to the shore. You wanted to continue the conversation, so you slithered closer to him. "What's your name?" you inquired.

Osamu's heart raced as you came closer till you were at his feet, his resistance failing against the heat of your presence. Grabbing a hold of his ankles, you knocked Osamu down onto the sand, and you lay on top of him, your face centimeters away from his.

"What are you-?"

"Tell me your name." You stated again your tone more serious. His defenses crumbled against your command, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Osamu Miya," he breathed, his voice carrying the weight of defeat to resist you.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips. "Osamu, what a pretty name," you whispered, your words caressing against his ear. Your sharp nails are gently dragging down his neck.

"Do you want to know my name?" You questioned.

Osamu's heart raced as you slithered down his body, with the point of your nails trailing down, feeling as if the world around him dissolved into your haze of allure.

"I want to know why you're here," Osamu replied, trying his best to keep his composure.

"You humiliated me, Osamu," you revealed. "You evaded my lethal song, leaving me weak. I’m dying, Osamu."

“I was trying to save myself from you, who tried to kill me!” He retorted.

"Are you still mad about that?" you huffed. “I’m sorry, ok? But I need you to help me.”

All he heard in that sentence was, ‘I need you.’ You needed him. He owed nothing to you, yet he felt in his heart that he had to, and he didn’t want to lose you again. "What do you want me to do?"

"All you have to do is say my name," you revealed.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Y/n.” It was, as expected, a name that matched your beauty and was perfect for you. But he despised it, knowing it had made him fall deeply in love with you.

"And then what?" he questioned.

Instead of answering, you made your way to his pants.

"W-what are you doing?" Osamu asked, startled, his heart pounding in his chest.

"You'll help me, won't you, Osamu?" You asked, your eyes locking onto him with an intense and desperate gaze.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Then all you need to do is say my name and look into my eyes.”

Dipping down to his crotch, Osamu's breath hitches as you unzip his pants and reveal his hard length bulging through his boxers. He was overwhelmingly big in length and width, and as much confidence you exuded, you'd never been as close to or ever come into contact with a man as you are now with Osamu, let alone given a blowjob to anyone before.

"What, you can’t take it?" Past the view of his swollen cock, you saw the smug look plastered on Osamu's face. It’s clear this wasn't his first time; he's done this before, probably with people more experienced than you. But that only fueled your determination to captivate him, to have him under your spell, which he's escaped before, though this time you'll have him succumb to his knees. It was the only way to save your life.

And so you took your time wrapping your hand around his shaft, slowly pumping him, and running your protracted tongue along the veins of his base to his swollen tip, catching the pre-cum that dribbled.

"Oh fuck," He can't help himself; the sight of you is making his body shake with need. It made his mind go blank. He wanted nothing more than to praise you and beg you for more, but he didn't know the troubles that would fall on him if he chanted your name.

You wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking him into your mouth and letting him fill your throat. In pleasure, he threw his head back, digging his hands into the sand for leverage as a stream of strained moans tumbled from his lips. He cursed, and you glanced up at him, expecting to meet his eyes, but instead were met with Adam's apple that bobbed.

"Osamu, look at me." Your velvety yet sultry voice is what compelled him to obey; he lowered his head and locked eyes with you. Your eyes brimmed with lust and desire, making him feel as though he’d plunged into the depths of an enchanting abyss full of secrets and allure. Unable to look away, Osamu knew he was entrapped in the effect of a siren's gaze.

With his attention on you, you dipped back down to his cock, dragging your tongue against his length before hollowing your cheeks to take him into your mouth once again. He guides his hand to your head, his fingers delicately entwining in your hair, trying to maintain his composure as he slowly unravels under your touch.

He moans again, and you feel him throbbing as you slurp him deep, drowning out the sounds of the waves and the distant calls of Osamu’s name.

It wasn't until the voices were close that Osamu heard his name being called. It was his employees checking to see if Osamu was still alive. Which he was. Alive and balls deep inside your mouth. The two of you were behind a large rock out of view, but the voices of his employees got even closer, and he didn't want to be seen or interrupted.

"Shit, I need to get up," he whispered.

But you didn't care; you've yet to reach your goal, so disregarding Osamu, you continue bobbing your head fast, and he bites his lip, the pain only making him harder.

" they'll find-" He was cut off by the feeling of his balls in your hand, his body tensing up. Osamu could hear his employees getting closer, and you continued sucking his cock, ignoring him as he tried to warn you again. 

"You're going to get us caught," Osamu growled, and he felt you smirk around his cock. His grip on your hair tightened. His employees were calling for him again, though he kept as quiet as possible, holding in his grunts and moans. Osamu could only listen helplessly as his employees got closer to where the two of you were.

Osamu's body tenses again, the feeling of him about to explode, and his grip on your hair tightens. His employee now only stood inches on the opposite side of the rock. Osamu held his breath as his employee went to look on the side of the rock where you two were, his fingers grazing on the rock, looking around for his boss. He looked to the left, then turned his head towards where he would find you and Osamu.

When another employee called after him. The first employee's attention was diverted before he could see you and Osamu, and he retreated back toward the restaurant.

When the employee's footsteps disappear, Osamu grabs a handful of your hair, throwing your head back and releasing your mouth, as the saliva that had formed between him and you spills out from your mouth as his dick slips out with a pop. 

"You've been so naughty today," Osamu's voice is deep and full of desire. Without waiting for a response, Osamu thrust his cock deep down your throat, a gagging noise escaping from your mouth as your eyes rolled back.

"First, you come to my restaurant for everyone to see, after I searched for you everywhere." He continued at his ruthless pace, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat while a mixture of tears, drool, and pre-cum coated his cock.

"And then you decide to tease me and play with my mind and my feelings." He continued, "Your tight grip on his waist grew weak, and he didn't bother with gentleness, his hips moving recklessly.

"Did you think I would fall for your game again Y/n?" He rasped. A mortal man has uttered your name... the only way for you to gain your siren abilities back, to save your life. though it couldn't be just any man, but one, who was in love with you.

His hips sputtered as he chanted your name in praise, and with every chant, the hue in your eyes intensified, strength surged through your veins as they pulsed, and, most importantly, your song found its way into your vocal cords.

You let him take over and do as he pleases, enjoying his loss of control and how you're the only one who can make him like this. He was now under your allure with no way to escape; you had full control over his mind, heart, and life in your hands.

As his hips started to move faster, you felt him throb and knew he was close. He didn't want it to stop, but his body felt like it wasn't under his control anymore, and he couldn't stand anymore. His cock was pulsating as he came into your mouth again, and his hot cum coated the inside of your mouth.

When his cock slipped from your lips, his legs gave out, and he let his head rest on the face of the rock. As he lay on the sand, catching his breath, he looked at you, a slight smile plastered on your face and cum dripping down the side of your mouth.

"What did you do?" he muttered.

"I didn't do anything," you replied, still smiling.

In the distance, a shout of Osamu's name rang out from the restaurant, diverting his attention away from you.

"This was fun, though you should get back to work, Osamu," you suggested, already retreating into the water.

"Where are you going? You can't leave yet."

"Don’t get sentimental on me now," you teased. “You know what they’ll do to me if they see me."

"I’ll protect you." He suggested also entering the water and wrapping his arms around your body. His lips met yours in an instant, and a passionate kiss was shared between the two of you as the waves crashed around you.

Your plan had exceeded your expectations; he was captivated and in love with you. His devotion toward you endeared you; you’d come back for revenge, and fear it has backfired.

Another call to Osamu's name echoed, and in the distance, he spotted his employees making their way toward the two of you, now out in the open for everyone to see.

"Stay with me," he urged. You were taken aback. A wave of déjà vu swept over you; you’d also tried to coerce him once, as he is doing to you now. It was a new sensation; you, siren, had never fallen for a man before. You wonder if he was the one doing a spell on you.

"Come with me," he repeated, searching your eyes for a response.

Though it was too late, as Osamu's employees reached the shore just a few feet away, they called out, "Boss! What are you doing in the water?"

Osamu looked at his employees in a panic, fearing you might have been seen. When he turned his gaze back to you, you had already submerged in the water, bidding him a heartfelt goodbye with your eyes.

There is no spell; your newfound emotions are inexplicably real.

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter one: the city of forks welcomes you

masterlist ౨ৎ chapter two

summary: y/n swan has lived in forks all of her life, but when she takes her summer-long vacation to california to visit her mother, she returns to a strange new family accompanying her small town.

warnings: swearing, angst

words: 1.8k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so so long and tbh i haven't written a fanfic since i was 12... and i'm fr 22, but i've ran out of twilight fanfics to read (i've been waiting weeks for one specific one to update and i'm going crazy)... so anyways !! hope you enjoy !!

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the trees of Forks, Washington. After an almost four hour drive, I could sense that I was nearing my home as the city was nowhere to be found. Instead it was replaced with deep green trees, dim skies, and the small shops that swept by as my dad drove.

I liked Forks, more than I probably should. Everyone here, mostly the kids, sulked about big bright cities where the sun would actually make an appearance. They longed for the liveliness that Forks had never given them.

But me? I secretly adored the quietness of it all. But of course, I had a disadvantage. Every summer I bathed in the sun rays of California, visited the busy cities, the warm beaches, and the overall liveliness that was craved from everyone else. But I was drained. Normally, it would be the opposite from any other person, but I always loved the cold. Ever since I was a kid, my little brain was wired to believe that Forks was almost like Christmas every single day of the year. So, rain, snow, or even ice (even with the ungodly amount of times I've slipped) never had me in too big of a rut.

With my mom back in California, though I loved her to death, was an absolute headache most of the time. And unlike my dad, she hovered. But, it wasn't her fault. The summer is the only time she had me, the rest were reserved with Charlie, which had resulted in this summer's mishaps: she begged me to stay longer. One would think that school would be an easy get out, but she knew the first month was nothing but dry introductions, syllabi, and effortless assignments. It was partly my fault. I was never one to turn her down, perhaps it was guilt because maybe she and I felt deep down that I favored my father more because who could ever turn down a chance to live in the perfect bustling city of San Francisco over Forks.

So I stayed. But now, it's the beginning of October. Thankfully, I was able to get in contact with the school in order to get all of my classes in order, as well as the help of my best friend, Angela, who emailed me all of the assignments. Jessica on the other hand, filled me in on all of the gossip. Her phone calls consisted of talks about her massive crush on Mike as well as the new and "totally weird" (as Jessica put it) family. "Suuupperrr pale, but weirdly GORGEOUS. I mean this Edward guy, he's wow. I swear if Mike doesn't make a move soon... I wonder if I could make him jealous?" The conversations were mostly one-sided, always either complaining about Mike's obliviousness or never catching that new guy's attention.

Now that I knew I was caught up on everything to do with school, all I wanted was to bury myself in bed and prepare for an alarm that hasn't been set in months.

I awoke to the sound of a car honking outside my window, assuming it was nothing, I settled back into my pillows, throwing my purple duvet back over your head for hopefully another thirty minutes of sleep.

"Y/N/N!" I heard my dad's voice accompanied by one of his famously loud whistles from outside of my window. That's when I finally got up and peered over with squinting eyes to see my father coming out of a car that most definitely wasn't his squad car.

Once my vision settled, I saw a green Volkswagen beetle parked in the driveway. No fucking way. I sprinted down the stairs and flung the front door open to see my father with a wide grin, gesturing the keys in front of my face.

"For me? You're joking?" I said in complete shock.

"You want me to be joking? Cause if so I can just bring this right back to Billy and let him sell it to some other geezer."

"No! No! No! I mean... Thank you, dad. Oh my god, how did you guys even find this?"

"Well, consider it a late birthday present. Billy and Jacob found it back in May for your birthday and decided to fix it up for ya, free of charge, but I paid 'em of course."

"Thanks dad and how about we invite Billy and Jacob over sometime and I'll cook? As a thank you?"

"You bet."

Once I parked in front of the school, my group of friends welcomed me with open arms, with Angela and Jessica squealing about how much they missed you and the boys, mostly just Mike, trying to awkwardly hug me.

I knew Mike had a crush on me, since third grade to be exact, which only made it worse for my friendship with Jessica, which made it worse for Lauren, Jessica's bestest friend to have an even better reason to despise me.

The first four classes: English, Government, Trigonometry, and French were surprisingly a breeze thanks to the assignments either Angela or the teachers sent over while I was away.

While at lunch, a new, unfamiliar bunch emerged from the cafeteria doors. They were beautiful... and also extremely pale even for Forks. So, this was the family Jessica was practically drooling over?

"Who are they?" I questioned anyways.

Jessica leans in, being careful to whisper, "It's the family I was telling you about. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They all moved down here from Alaska like last month."

I studied the first girl who walked in, bleached blonde hair, almost black eyes that were almost unsettling, she wore a thin grey coat and a knitted white scarf that matched her icy skin, and a necklace with a large charm that looked to be a family crest of some sort.

"The blonde girl, Rosalie, and the big dark-haired guy, Emmett..." Jessica continued.

More of the family gathered in slowly, the blonde was linking hands with a man with jet black hair, with the same family crest residing on his wrist.

"... they're a thing. I'm not even sure that's legal." Jessica grimaced.

Angela piped in, "Jess, they're not actually related."

"But they live together and all wear that weird creepy crest like some sort of cult. And the little dark haired girl, Alice, she's really weird..."

Despite Jessica's remarks, Alice was the one who caught my eye the most so far and not in a negative way. She reminded me of a fairy almost with her pixie-like hair cut, her style, and the way she carried herself, which was pretty whimsical in a way. Her arms were locked with a man beside her, bleached blonde just as Rosalie was.

"... she's with Jasper, the blonde who looks like he's in pain" Jessica continued on, "I mean, Dr. Cullen's like this foster dad slash match maker."

"Maybe he'll adopt me." Angela giggled.

The last Cullen to enter, I assumed it was Edward, the man Jessica claimed to be weirdly gorgeous and 'wow'. 'Wow' was the perfect word to explain how I felt as he strode down the cafeteria. I couldn't keep your eyes off of him, even as he went past your table, I was oddly captivated by his presence. He had a lanky body, matched with the same pale skin as his siblings, bronze hair and striking smirk. You could've sworn he heard Jessica's whispered remarks from across the cafeteria.

"He's totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, no one here is good enough for him. Like I care." She does. "Anyway, don't waste your time."

"I wasn't planning on it." I looked away before his eyes could find mine and once I did, I felt as if holes were practically burned at the back of my head. Was he staring?

Out of curiosity, I peered over my shoulder, quickly glancing, seeing his eyes on mine and quickly turning my eyes back, slowly hiding behind my hair.

Before I walked into Biology, I shuffled through my backpack to look for the assignments I'd done in your time away, settling them in my hands as I walked through the door.

Greeting Mr. Banner, I handed him my completed assignments that were neatly put together with a paper clip.

"Finally nice to see you Miss Y/L/N, how was your summer?" Being great at biology put you at an advantage, not only for assignments, but because Mr. Banner didn't question much about my month long disappearance, but I couldn't say the same about PE...

"It was good, thank you."

"Well that's great, I'm glad! And I appreciate your completed assignments, not even people attending have it all quite done like you have!" He rambled. "So! Your seat... There's a seating chart, but there should be an empty seat I left for you...,yes! Right there, next to Mr. Cullen." Mr. Banner pointed to the right side of the classroom to the seat next to the Cullen boy.

Edward's eyes once again felt as if they burned through my own, staring at me as if you had wronged him in some way. The hatred in his eyes was well aware, but for what reason?

With each step I took, the more disgust in his features appeared, almost as if he was holding his breath. Did I stink or something? I attempted not to smell myself to see if perhaps I had raging body odor or even a bad breath that radiated from across the classroom. No one else seemed to have an issue besides him.

Once I was sat, I heard him mutter into a cough, but I only made eye contact with his beading black eyes and said nothing at all. He only pushed the microscope towards me slowly, being careful to not come any closer to me as if he would catch something.

I sighed loudly, making my annoyance well known. He only just tensed.

Throughout the entirety of the class, the tension continued. I even considered going up to Mr. Banner and asking to switch seats with someone, but that only sparked the possibility of Mike forcing Eric to switch seats and I honestly couldn't figure out which would be worse. So, I decided to suffer through the entire hour and perhaps learn to suffer the entire year partnered with a man who could hardly even look me in the eye without being utterly disgusted.

At first I was hurt, but the hurt swiftly turned into annoyance once the partner sessions began. He didn't even consult with me, rather he just scribbled as fast as he could, only of what he was able to see through the microscope, only handing it to me after to check his answers. All correct, surprisingly.

Staring at the clock, I was counting down the time until the bell. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Edward had gotten up, practically running out of the classroom before the bell had officially rung.

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