#i mean I left people out but I don’t think I left out anyone important lmao

[krosiefics]

let’s fulfill the prophecy • minsung x reader

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: you and your best friends, Minho and Jisung, don’t mind talking about your sex lives and desires. Though one night when Jisung makes a suggestion about a fantasy all three of you share, you can’t help but take the offer.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: PURE SMUT, pwp, smut, afab!reader, softdom!minho, switch!reader, sub!jisung, bsf!minho, bsf!jisung, piv, unprotected sex (PEE AFTER SEX AND USE PROTECTION), same hole double penetration, threesome, vaginal sex, double creampie, jisung is super vocal while minho isn’t, oral (f&m receiving), nippleplay (f&m receiving), some m/m action, breeding kink, pet names (baby, princess, pretty, good boy), friends to idk what(lovers???)…probably forgetting some- tee hee sorry

a/n: imma go touch grass now just like chan told us

Even though your two best friends are boys, you never thought much about talking to them about your sex life, they never hindered from telling you theirs either. So tonight didn’t seem any different.

The three of you gathered around the short wooden coffee table that laid in the middle of the living room, blabbing about things that happened this week.

“Ooh! There was a girl that was all over Minho this week!” Jisung exclaimed as if he just remembered the most important thing in the world. His words peeked your interests, you turned your gaze over to the previously mentioned boy, giving him a knowing look.

Minho’s shoulders rose from being put on the spot, “She wasn’t all over me…she was just there?” Minho furrowed his brows in a questioning manner. “She was totally into you! She was hot too!” Jisung said matter-a-factly, crossing his arms and jutting out his chin. Minho simply rolled his eyes at him.

Minho isn’t necessarily the type to have one-night stands unlike Jisung who likes to play around a bit. “Well what about you Ji? You’ve snuck your way into anyone’s pants this week?” Minho changes the subject. Jisung’s eyes usually light up like a kid on Christmas when he’s asked about his sex life. Liking to recall everything while you and Minho just sit there listening…internally disturbed at some of the things he says.

Though, this time, Jisung’s eyes didn’t have that spark. The round cheeked boy simply shook his head, “I’ve been left blue balled all week. That one girl I told yall about got a family emergency notification while we were grinding on each other!” Jisung threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

You let out a snort and Minho chuckles at his words. “What about you?”

“Me? Nah, haven’t gotten laid in a few weeks. Though when I went to the bar last weekend these two random dudes offered to do a three way with me-“

“Shit, a threesome sounds like so much fun! I wanna do one!” Jisung cut you off, “How was it?!”

“Well if you would let me fucking finish- I turned them down cuz my friend I was with puked.”

“Aww, would you have said yes if she hadn’t puked?” Minho pokes at you jokingly.

“Yeah probably, it’s seems like it’d be intresting- but at the same time I’d want them to be trustable people since I’m guessing it’d hurt like fuck! Don’t wanna be just left to clean up myself, you know.”

As you rambled you failed to notice Jisung suggestively nudging Minho with his elbow. Minho stared between him and you, before realizing what Jisung was indicating. “Jisung what the fuck?” The black haired boy stared at the younger. You look between the two confused.

“Oh c'mon Min! It’d be fun don’t ya think?!” Jisung whined, Minho continued staring at him as if he was crazy. “What is it?”

“This dumbass just suggested that we have a threesome.” Minho spat, though he’d never admit aloud that the idea slightly aroused him.

“Wait…you wanna try it too, right Ji?” You ask, Jisung nods frantically in response. “Do you wanna try it Min?” Minho stared at you as if you’d lost your mind by agreeing with Jisung. “I mean…I guess, but won’t you think it’s weird?”

“Oh c’mon! It’s for scientific research to determine if we like it or not.” You whine just as Jisung had done prior. “I guess.” He answered unsure. You notice his uneasiness, “Hey, if you don’t wanna do it we won’t.” Minho smiled at you appreciatively, “No, I want to do it.”

“Are we doing this or what?” Jisung grinned, popping up from his spot on the floor and making his way to your bedroom door. Your heart raced with anticipation, you’d be lying if you said you’d hadn’t thought about this before…when your best friends are as hot as Minho and Jisung are, how could you not fantasize about them at least one time.

You bolted up from your spot on the floor and towards your bedroom, pulling Jisung inside. “C’mon Min!” Jisung called out to the elder who just watched as the two of his best friends just ran off to a room to have sex together. Nonetheless, Minho rose from his spot, walking towards your now open bedroom door. As Minho neared the door, he watched as Jisung had his lips attached to your neck.

You tilt your head, allowing him more space to nibble and suck at. Your eyes shifted to the man who was standing at your door, you motioned for him to come over. “We’re actually doing this then?”

Minho sighed, arousal shooting quickly to his cock. “We can stop if you want.” You stated, Jisung whining at your words. Minho shook his head as he neared the two of you. “You guys are actually insane.” The feline-eyed boy chuckles, cupping your cheek in his hand. You melt into his touch with a sigh.

Small moans began flowing from your mouth as Jisung bit down along your collarbone before licking a stripe on the spot. “Ji,” You scrunch your eyes, hands flying to his hair. Jisung pulled away from your neck with a smirk. As Jisung fully removes himself from you, Minho decides to take the lead and back you towards the bed, falling onto the bed when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

Minho guided you gently to lay down. “You sure you want this?” He stared down at you, he noticed how flushed your cheeks were and the multiple marks that Jisung had left on your skin. “God yes, shit, this might just be an excuse at this point.” You bashfully confess, turning your head away to avoid eye contact. “Oh, she thinks we’re hot!” Jisung piped up, you felt the weight of the bed dip to your left. Jisung hovered over you, his face coming into your sight. “Don’t worry babe, I’ve thought about this before too. How could I not, you two are ridiculously hot.” He grins before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes follow Jisung’s as he turns his gaze to Minho who just stands there, lip caught between his teeth. “He’s probably fantasized about this more though.” Though you weren't looking at him, you knew he wore a teasing smirk. “Oh fuck you Ji.” Minho groaned, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “That’s what I’m trying for you to do.” Growing annoyed, Minho pushes Jisung onto the bed, harsher than how he guided you down.

“Hey pretty,” Minho turned his gaze to you, his eyes burning with lust, “Wanna help me out with this one while I take care of you?” You can feel your heart hammering in your chest, Minho’s sudden change in demeanor fully arousing you. You quickly rise from the bed and straddle Jisung’s hips. Jisung stares up at you with rosey cheeks. “You gonna take care of me baby- oh fuck!” His teasing was cut short with the roll of your hips. His hands fly up to your hips, trying to guide you to move faster, but you’re faster, slapping his hands away. “If you’re a good boy I’ll let you touch later.”

Jisung groans loudly at your words, you note how his cock twitched under you at the pet name. You continue rolling your hips into his, soft whimpers falling from both of your mouths. Suddenly, a pair of hands start trailing along the curves of your body, trailing their way down to the hem of your t-shirt. You could feel Minho’s warmth behind you. His hands stop right at the hem, as if the boy behind you were asking to continue. You were quick to nod, pleas flowing from your mouth.

Minho tugged your shirt up and over your head, your chest now almost fully exposed to your best friends. Jisung watched as you grind down on him as Minho took your shirt off. He could see how your nipples pebbled through your bra. Jisung’s hands unconsciously moved to touch them, but yet again you smacked them away before he could touch you. “What did I say?” You tsked.

Jisung simply whined. “Shirt.” You order below, he’s quick to understand what you mean, peeling his shirt from his body, tossing it somewhere in the room.

You stared down at the flushed boy, his abs flexed and his nipples hardened. You reach down and pinch one of his nubs, twisting and pulling at it as whines flow from Jisung’s mouth. “Fuck, baby c’mon! Lemme touch you already…I wanna touch you.” He babbles. You hunch over, taking one of his nipples in your mouth, nibbling at the nub teasingly as Jisung’s cock throbbed against your cunt. “Holy fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Suddenly you’re pulled away from Jisung’s chest. Hands harshly gripping your hips before hesitantly cupping your breasts, you throw your head back, resting it on Minho’s shoulder. Minho takes this as a chance to suck at the skin of your neck. Trailing his teeth along your neck before leaving feather kisses under your ear.

Your hips rolled needily into Jisung below you. The latter staring up with an arousal driven gaze as he watched you grind into him, the feeling of your warmth against him, Minho kneading at your tits and his mouth all over your skin…the skin that he, Jisung, wanted to so desperately touch. “Baby…please. I’ve been a good boy- I’ll keep being a good boy, just let me touch you.” Jisung fisted the sheets next to him as your hips edged him towards his climax.

“Fuck, Imma cum.” He warned. And almost immediately you lifted yourself from him, a broken moan slipping past his lips from the loss of friction, Minho also frowning at the loss of contact with your tits. “Baby, why’d you do that?”

“You said you were gonna be a good boy, no?” You teased him, his round cheeks flushing an impossibly deeper shade of red. You smirk at his reaction.

You tugged at the elastic waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs till you could kick them off somewhere. Both Jisung and Minho watched as you removed the articles of clothing, the sight making their cocks throb in their pants. “Min, care to help tease him for a bit.” You offered, your eyes burning into Jisung’s. Minho nodded, his eyes turning towards the younger boy. Minho didn’t fail to notice the bulge Jisung was sporting through his jeans.

“Pretty boy, you want help with these?” Minho smirked, his fingers trailing along the hem of Jisung’s jeans, looping around one of the belt loops. “God please- fuck Min!” Jisung groaned, willing to do anything at this point to be touched or touch someone. Jisung reached for Minho’s wrist but stopped himself, assuming he’d get rejected again.

Minho let out a deep chuckle before wrapping his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and guiding it to his face. “I’ll let you touch me for now.” He cocked his head as his fingers worked Jisung’s zipper down. You watched as the two boys maneuvered around to get Jisung undressed, until Jisung laid there fully naked. His cock erected, resting on his lower abdomen. Your mouth watered as you stared at the pretty boy’s cock. You wanted him in your mouth- no you needed him in your mouth.

“Minnie, can you prep me?” You asked Minho though your eyes remained on Jisung’s cock. Minho’s gaze shifted from Jisung to you. He noticed your staring and shifted over, freeing up space between Jisung’s legs. “You sure?” Minho asked as you bent over, leaving your ass exposed to him. “Yeah, I am…are you guys?”

“Fuck yeah.” Minho breathed out. “Can one of yal fucking touch me…please?” Jisung cried out, his cock leaking precum as it throbbed painfully.

You roll your eyes playfully before leaning in and taking the whining boy into your mouth. A waterfall of ‘fucks’ and ‘so good baby’ fell from his mouth, Jisung’s eyes screwed shut, but not until he started feeling vibrations against his cock. His eyes snap open, seeing how you took his cock into his mouth so easily, your lips so pink and wet around his shaft.

Another wave of vibrations surrounded his cock, he finally noticed that they were your moans. Your moans as Minho ate you out from behind, wet sounds of your juices mixing with his spit as his fingers pumped into your sopping cunt. “Fuck Min, keep doing that! She’s taking me so well!” Jisung cried out, his knuckles were white with how tight he was holding on to the sheets, just like how he was holding off his climax as best he could.

“I think you’re good now, pretty.” Minho said with a huff, his face wet with your arousal. You pulled away from Jisung’s throbbing cock with a ‘pop’.

Swinging your legs over the younger’s hips, straddling him as you had previously. “You ready Ji?”

“More than ready, princess.” Your eyes go wide at the sudden nickname, your heart unreasonably hammering into your chest. You shake your head out of it. The messy haired boy hisses as you guide his cock towards your entrance.

You sink down slowly onto his cock, the two of you letting out pornographic moans at the feeling. His cock fit you so well, you could feel every vein and curve of his cock as you unconsciously clenched around him, prompting him to buck his hips slightly.

Jisung’s gaze fell on your face, how your eyes scrunched up with pleasure as you began rolling your hips onto his, the new feeling already edging you both towards an orgasm. His gaze fell to your lips and how they formed a small ‘o’ shape as breathy moans left them. Fuck, he wanted to kiss you so bad. You must’ve picked up on his desire because before the two of you knew it, you were kissing.

Lips moving sloppily against each other as your hips started moving faster and as Jisung started thrusting into you. “Sungie.” You whimpered into the kiss, his hands flying to your face, cupping your cheeks gently. Jisung didn’t even care if you’d be upset at him touching you. But you didn’t care, you need his hands in you. “I’m right here princess.” He cooed as his hands made their way down to your hips, steadily holding as he thrust into you.

You moan into the kiss when you feel something else probing at your entrance. It was Minho’s finger. The older boy watched as his younger friends made out like hormonal teenagers. His finger traced along the rim of your pussy which was currently taking Jisung. “I’ve waited a bit, no?”

Minho smirked as he pushed his finger inside your hole, both you and Jisung letting out moans.

Minho worked his fingers in and out of you, stretching your hole even more while Jisung pounded into you. “You ready?” Minho asked, his hands rubbing circles on your waist. “God, need to feel both of you- fuck, now please Min- fuck Sungie!”

“Oh fuck!” Jisung and you moaned simultaneously as Minho pushed his cock into your tight cunt. The stinging pain of both of their cocks only turning you on more. “Fuck, Imma cum- fucking shit.” Jisung warned, his cock twitching deep inside you along Minho’s. “Fu...f-fill me up- you’ve been a good boyf fill me up baby.” You slump your head against his as Minho pounds you from behind.

Jisung spills over the edge, filling you up with every last drop of his seed, your pussy milking him so perfectly. Minho continued rutting into you, Jisung cried out from the overstimulation but nonetheless didn’t pull out. “Fuck, Minnie Imma cum- fuck Min!” A tear fell from your eye as your mind went blank with ecstasy. Your climax hit you like a truck as you squirted around both of their cocks, leaving Jisung’s abdomen soaked.

“Fucking hell.” Minho grunted at how tight you clenched around him that it sent him over the end. His hips stuttered as he filled you with his seed, both his and Jisung mixing within yours.

Your body felt limp as they both pulled out. The icky feeling of their cum rushing down your thighs made you cringe. Minho guided you to lay on your back before running off somewhere.

Both you and Jisung laid there staring at the ceiling, chest heaving and faces flushed.

“We just did that.” You huffed out a laugh.

“We just did that.” Jisung confirms, his voice sounding so raspy.

Minho returned with a warm towel, nudging your legs open before cleaning you. “I love you guys.” You said after cleaning up everything. Minho turned to you with a small smile on his face, his hands moved to cup your cheek before leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips. The two of you pull away, a grumble catching both of your attentions. Your gaze shifted to Jisung who pouted, wanting a kiss for himself.

You giggle before giving him a kiss as well. Jisung melts into your touch so easily, “I love you guys too.” He sighed into the kiss, pulling away before cuddling you into his chest. “You guys are still crazy for that.”

“Oh c’mon Min, you know you liked it.” You scoff, the feeling of Minho’s arms wrapping around both you and Jisung comforting you. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I love you guys too.”

[pucksandpower]

Fairytale

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend

Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.

“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.

“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.

“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you’re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”

“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”

The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.

“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”

“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.

Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.

“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”

“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.

“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.

Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.

You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”

Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”

Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.

“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”

The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.

Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

***

Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.

“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”

Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.

Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”

“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”

Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”

Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”

Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”

“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”

Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?

“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.

“No.”

Silvia blinks. “No?”

“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”

“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.

Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”

“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.

His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.

Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋

Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.

He quickly types back.

I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️

He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.

Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.

***

Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.

Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.

“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”

Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”

“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”

Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.

“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”

Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”

“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”

Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.

“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”

Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?

“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.

“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.

Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.

“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. ���It hurts.”

“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.

“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”

“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”

Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.

Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.

“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.

“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”

Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.

***

Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.

“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.

“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”

Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”

Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.

After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.

“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.

“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”

Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.

“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.

Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”

Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.

“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”

Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”

“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”

Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.

Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.

As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.

He feels his heart sink as he reads.

Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.

Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.

Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.

***

Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”

Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”

Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.

Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.

“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.

“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.

Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”

Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.

“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”

Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.

Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.

“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”

She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”

Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”

You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”

As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.

Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!

As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.

The podium ceremony.

And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.

He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.

But not anymore.

At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.

Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.

At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.

In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.

“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.

“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”

Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.

Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.

But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.

Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.

“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.

Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”

You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”

Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.

When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”

“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.

***

“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.

“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.

“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.

“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.

“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.

An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.

“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.

The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”

You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”

But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”

The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”

“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.

You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”

Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”

“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”

Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”

You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”

“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.

“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.

More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.

“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”

He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.

“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.

“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”

The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.

After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.

“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”

Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”

“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.

“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.

“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.

Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.

And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.

[messyoungie]

HABITS TO DROP WHEN GETTING YOUR LIFE TOGETHER

➝ CREATING UNAUTHENTIC & UNINTENTIONAL GOALS

the biggest mistakes you can make when creating goals is making goals that aren’t true to you and making goals for the sake of making goals.

it can be so exciting when you decide to get your life together. I mean, of course it is! there are so many possibilities! but when you start planning, don’t just write down the goals you see circulating on social media. what works for someone else may not be what works for you. don’t make your goals and habits based on what’s trending or popular in the self improvement community.

think about what you actually need for a minute. what is actually necessary? your goals and habits aren’t here to be glamorous, they’re here to help regardless of how simple or small they are. the point of thinking up new habits is to improve your life, so be intentional with your goals. what will practicing this habit or achieving this goal give you?

when you’re first starting out, your goals don’t have to be anything too crazy or intense. for example, let’s say you want to become a pink pilates girl and get into fitness. you shouldn’t jump right into it and say your goal is to work out for 2 hours 5 times a week. let’s consider some factors first. have you been living a completely sedentary kind of lifestyle? then try looking for exercises that’ll wake up dormant muscles. your goal should then be to repeat those exercises for how ever many times a week. then you’ll work your way up from there. (it’s important we don’t harm the body, so be mindful with your fitness goals.) what about your schedule? how much time can you actually give to working out? can your body even endure working out for that long?

anyways, hopefully you see what I mean. when creating goals, it’s not about having the “aesthetic” habits and goals that you may see on tiktok or tumblr. it’s about doing what is actually good for you and what’ll help you the most with where you are now in your journey. so please put some thought into your goals and where they’ll take you. creating unauthentic and unintentional habits will also mean you’ll be less likely to keep practicing them after a few times. at the end of the day, that doesn’t help you achieve anything and you’re left with a broken promise you’ve made to yourself. which leads me to my next point…

➝ NOT KEEPING YOUR WORD WHEN IT COMES TO YOU

let me start off by saying this— if you don’t even listen to yourself, why should anyone else? (harsh, ik)

a HUGE reason as to why people have no self confidence is because they don’t listen to themselves or keep the promises they’ve made to themselves. if you have no self trust, how could you have any self confidence?

now, building discipline can definitely be a challenge so if you want to start somewhere easy, nip your false promises in the bud and stop yourself from making them. that’s what I did when I was first trying to stop this habit. when my addiction to tiktok was at its peak I would always tell myself the usual “ten more minutes and then I’ll stop scrolling.” when I wanted to stop making false promises, I knew I had no control or discipline so the only thing I could do is be real with myself. I’d cut myself off when I heard myself say “five more minutes” because I knew it wasn’t going to happen. if I wasn’t going to quit my bad habit, then the least I could do is be honest with myself.

the things that you are constantly telling yourself, whether they’re mindless or intentional, matter.

so, stop telling yourself seemingly harmless lies. unnecessary false promises that you know are false will only fill you with tension.

➝ SEEING FAILURE AS AN INVITATION TO GIVE UP

this applies to so many things.

you wanted to be consistent with your reading goals but haven’t read a chapter in a week? dont give up. don’t tell yourself that being consistent is too hard for you, that since you missed a week this habit isn’t for you. make your goal a bit easier or give yourself another chance.

you wanted to spend more time doing art but it’s not turning out how you expected? dont give up. dont give yourself the title of a “bad artist” and never pick up a pencil again. move forward, give yourself another chance.

you wanted to quit your Instagram addiction but after a couple days you went back to scrolling for hours on ig reels? Don’t give up. dont tell yourself that this addiction isn’t gonna go away, don’t go back to the bad habit because you slipped up. give yourself another chance.

I think a lot of us (myself included) tend to give up at the first sign of failure, instead of reminding ourselves to keep going. it’d be wonderful if you could get it right on the first try. if you could read ten books a month right away after not reading a book in three years. if you could watch hours worth of tutorials and sketch the perfect portrait on the first attempt. if you could uninstall instagram for good and never feel the urge to go back. that would all be so amazing, but it’s not always the reality. expect the best from yourself and do the best you can, but also give yourself some compassion. keep in mind that you won’t always do things perfectly right away and that’s one thousand percent okay. when you feel yourself slipping up on your brand new goal, don’t end it there at the first failure. allow yourself to move forward, because the only other direction to move is backwards.

[fireinmoonshot]

can you make a fiyero fic where we tries to distract the reader while they study 🙏🏾

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Word Count: 1.2k A/N: Thank you to everyone that's read my first Fiyero fic and to everyone who's sent in requests as well! It means the world to me. I've been itching to write more for him for days but have had a crazy busy week and finally had time to sit down and write this request this afternoon – this idea is so cute and so Fiyero, so here it is! I really hope you enjoy and I will 100% be writing more for Fiyero!

The library at Shiz University is not known for being especially quiet. Especially when Fiyero Tigelaar is inside of it. The man is never in there to study – of course not –  but where you go, Fiyero goes, and you happen to spend a fair amount of time in the library, meaning Fiyero has no choice but to spend time there too. 

You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve told Fiyero that he doesn’t have to sit with you while you study. You’d take no offence to him going off to do something he’d enjoy rather than sit beside you, bored out of his mind, but Fiyero insists on staying every time.

It’s just ticked past 6pm when you feel a finger poke into your arm. You blink, looking away from the book you’d been studiously reading, and up into the bright blue of Fiyero’s eyes. “Can I help you?” You ask, slightly amused by the look on his face. 

“Darling, we’re going to miss dinner if we stay here any longer,” he says simply.

You laugh breathily and shake your head. “There’s nothing stopping you from going and getting something yourself. I still have a hundred pages of this book to get through before the exam so I’ll be a while longer.”

Fiyero lets out a long sigh and slumps down onto the desk. You smile to yourself as you go back to reading, jotting down notes every now and then when something sounds important. Unsurprisingly, Fiyero stays beside you, unmoving. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you feel an arm snake around your waist, followed by the warmth of Fiyero’s body leaning into your side as he tugs you a little closer to him. You look up, moving your book closer to you so you can still read it. 

“Fiyero,” you sigh, meeting his eyes again.

“What?” He asks, expression innocent. “Is it a crime to want you as close to me as possible? Surely, after all these hours in the library, I can at least have that.”

Once again, you laugh to yourself and go back to your reading. “If you insist, my love.”

It’s a little while later, when you’re in the last thirty or so pages of your book when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice Fiyero’s face moving closer to yours. He surprises you when he nuzzles his face against your neck, before pressing a soft kiss to the skin there.

“Fiyero!” You almost shriek, before remembering you’re in a libraryand need to keep your voice down. “What if someone sees? We’re in the library, you know!?”

He moves away from you so you can see his face and the cheeky grin on it. “Darling, the library is empty. You are the only person left studying in here, so there’s no one here to see,” he explains. “And even if there were people here, everyone at Shiz already knows we’re together. I don’t think it’d be particularly shocking to anyone.”

His arm is still around your waist from when he’d moved you closer to him earlier, and he gently gives your side a squeeze before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek. He enjoys making you flustered… and if it distracts you from studying, then that’s even better. 

Much to his disappointment, though, you simply shake your head and divert your eyes back down to the book in front of you, choosing to ignore him all together and not even bother to grace him with a reply. If Fiyero wasn’t so head over heels in love, he’d be annoyed.

He leans down and rests his head on your shoulder, smiling a little as he feels you startle at the movement. “I’ll just stay here till you’re done then, darling. Since I am being deprived of a sleep in a comfortable bed, I suppose this will have to be the next best option,” he sighs.

Fiyero can almost sense the smile forming on your face as you shove your shoulder upwards, knocking him off of you. He looks at you with mock shock on his face. You reach up and take his face in your hands, palms cupping his cheeks. 

“Can you last another twenty minutes for me to finish this book or will you positively combust if you have to stay another second in this library with me?” You ask, trying your best to keep your laughter at bay.

“Oh, I’m already well on my way to combustion, darling,” Fiyero nods, though really he’s just enjoying the fact that this is the first time in hours you’ve paid full attention to him and the added bonus of the feeling of your hands on his skin. 

He can’t help himself from leaning in and pecking your lips when you start to smile at his words. You are just simply too irresistible, and while he loves how much you care about school and studying… he has also had enough of the library for one day (or four) and wants nothing more than to whisk you back to his dorm and spend the evening doing anything other than studying with you. 

Fiyero especially enjoys the surprised look on your face when he pulls away from the kiss. You drop your hands from his face, letting them rest in your lap, and clear your throat. 

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you say, marking your spot in the book and closing it, beginning to pack up your things for the night. You can just come back and finish the rest tomorrow, you suppose. It is getting rather late.

“Who said anything about bed?” Fiyero smirks. 

He stands, then, happily stretching his arms above his head and letting out a fake yawn. You smile to yourself as you stand, picking up your now full book bag from the table. Before you can throw it over your shoulder, though, Fiyero grabs it from your hands and puts it over his own shoulder. You know better than to argue.

“Okay,” you extend a hand for him to take, knowing how much he likes to hold your hand whenever you’re walking somewhere together. “You lead the way.”

Fiyero takes your hand in his, holding it tight. “Just one quick thing before we go,” he says, and then he takes you by surprise for probably the seventh time in a matter of hours by, stepping in front of you, cradling the back of your head in his free hand, tilting your head up a little and pressing his lips to yours. 

It’s a much longer kiss than the peck that he’d given you before, and it’s definitely not entirely library friendly. It’s the kind of kiss that would likely get you kicked out of the library were you to do it in broad daylight. But Fiyero has clearly decided to take advantage of the empty library while he has it. His lips move against yours, tongue prodding against your bottom lip, his hand still holding yours tightly. 

When he pulls away, both of you are a little out of breath. Your free hand is knotted in the back of his shirt and you awkwardly clear your throat as you let go and try to smooth down the fabric, failing miserably. 

“Now we can go,” Fiyero flashes you one of his signature smiles and starts to move, tugging you along behind him, finally out of the library. If there’s one thing Fiyero is sure about, it’s that he will always get his way – even if it involves several hours of boredom beside you in the library. He’s certain that it’s worth it. 

[atrwriting]

more, more, more — carmy x reader

carmen berzatto x coworker!reader

listen to me. this man? this man?? so fucking slutty. so fucking slutty i can’t even think straight. i am absolutely AGHAST at how little writing there is of this man online. absolutely OUTRAGEOUS. he looks like that and none of us have done his character justice?? DISGRACEFUL.

i wrote this in direct response to how angry i am at how little there is.

as always, warnings… SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck on a table i mean in bed

also, minors fuck RIGHT the fuck off

barely edited we die like men

i stole that joke don’t come for me

anyway....

you didn’t really know how it happened.

you were once an unemployed law student, scared of drowning in bills, and eagerly awaiting a call back from anyone that would hire you — when she called.

natalie berzatto.

her voice was warm and comforting on the phone, and very eager to have you come in. she was relaying important information to you on the phone, and while you grabbed bits and pieces, it was hard to focus on anything else besides the sheer excitement of finally having a job. the job would be stressful, sure — but at least you wouldn’t be broke and stressed.

unfortunately, your first couple of shifts were a mess and a half. you took instructions well, and performed well, but in the hospitality business — that means nothing when an oven burner is out, a dishwasher doesn’t show up for a shift, richie starts barking, or when carmen’s upset.

carmen.

fucking carmen.

while soft spoken, there was nothing that could compare to the look of approval in his eye when you had completed a task to his standard. most people would consider the job of a hostess useless, or not a job at all — something to laugh at, but carmen? no. that man took your job very seriously, as he knew what it meant to provide the full experience to the customer.

however, when something was lacking in the kitchen and that experience was interrupted… carmen took the look of approval, almost gratefulness, away and replaced it with something that everyone felt like they had to walk around shards of glass.

when he was angry? oh, fuck… that could ruin anyone’s night.

the worst of it happened when his sister unexpectedly went into labor. two weeks early.

carmen had left the place screaming, and, in the process, had also left his things at the restaurant, including his jacket, wallet, keys, the lot — so to be nice you went to drop it off at his place. worried that he might be at the hospital, you texted him.

you: hey, going out for a drink. saw you forgot your stuff at the restaurant so i grabbed it because you’re otw. you home?

carmen: oh shit thanks. i’m home

so there you stood. at his front door, his stuff in hand.

you quickly adjusted your long hair, worried about your appearance. it was weird to show up to carmen’s place in your regular attire — seeing as though your regular attire on a night with your friends was black flare jeans, a tight black long sleeve v-neck that showed off your cleavage — you were concerned that he might be concerned with who he exactly employed. however, his niece was just born… he had more important things to worry about.

so you knocked.

and barely waited.

carmen was barely at the door a few seconds later before you came face to face with the man who constantly let exhaustion ride on his back.

“you good?” you immediately asked, handing over his stuff.

he nodded. “yeah, uh — thanks.”

“you look like you could use a drink,” you laughed. “want to come with?”

he shook his head, the corners of his lips somewhat curving upwards. “nah. day was hectic. you want one? come in — for a drink?”

you smiled. “i don’t want to intrude, especially after the berzatto family excitement of the day.”

“i owe you,” he sighed. “but don’t let me hold you up if your friends are waiting.”

you smiled. “one drink won’t hurt.”

one drink definitely did not hurt.

drink two and three definitely didn’t, either.

how much carmen made you laugh definitely made your stomach hurt, though. in a good way.

“you’re killing me,” you cackled. “who knew quiet carmen berzatto was such a good host.”

“you can call me carmy, y’know,” he spoke, saying his cigarette before pouring you another drink. “everyone else does.”

you shrugged. “you’re pretty professional in the kitchen. didn’t want to impose.”

“i don’t think you could impose a day in your life,” he chuckled. “i think you’re the only one that knows boundaries in that fuckin’ place.”

“says the mysterious one,” you giggled. “the only reason any of us know your nicknames is because richie likes to share your baby stories.”

“speaking of babies…” he took a drag. “thank you for helping sugar out so much. she told me to tell you how much she appreciates it.”

you shrugged. “‘s nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffed. “you keep her sane. definitely keep me sane.”

“always got your back, chef,” you giggled.

he smiled, and ashed his cigarette once more. his long, thick fingers stretched around the circumference of his glass. one fingertip tapped against the glass and a few droplets of condensation fell to his countertop.

you were twisted around in your seat to face carmen, eyeing his attractive hands. in your peripheral vision, you saw him lift his head to cock it towards you and stare at you. the longing look sent shivers up your spine, but you gazed at him through your long lashes as you waited for his response.

“you do,” he spoke. “always have. we were lucky to find you. i - i was, i mean.”

“more like i was lucky get a call from natalie,” you laughed. “it’s so hard to find a well paying job nowadays.”

“heard,” he rasped. “you happy at the bear?”

“very,” you replied. “staff keeping you happy, chef?”

he chuckled. “when i’m not made to scream, yeah.”

“that’s fair. we’re lucky to have you.”

there was only so many things you could think of to say to carmen before you began to consider that you were imposing. you slapped your hands against your thighs — a implicit signal it was time for you to go. he led you to the door, where he reached out for your coat. you smiled at him, thanked him for the drink, and slid your arms through the jacket as he held it out for you.

you don’t know what caused you to, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you — or maybe it was how good carmen smelled — but you glanced up and over your shoulder at the polite man behind you.

you didn’t have anything to say. frankly, you said something last — it was his turn. however, carmen’s sense of societal expectations started and ended with the door to the kitchen. but there, by his front door? basically holding you by the shoulders, and staring back down at you? he had nothing to say.

however… his eyes could share a thousand things about him. more specifically, emotions. carmen’s eyes showed exhaustion, a bit of dehydration, to keep it a buck, but there was so much intensity in those crystal irises. they were a stunning, clear blue… but with the way carmen was gazing down at you, there appeared to be no clear thought in his head.

and he did nothing.

so you could do nothing.

you found yourself disappointed at his actions, or rather — lack thereof.

you simply smiled, and went to turn away. you reached for his door knob, when you felt the slightest brush of calloused fingers against the skin of your wrist. the feeling shocked you, pricking at your nerves, but you didn’t stop until you felt those fingers enclose around the circumference of your wrist.

like they had with the glass, moments ago.

you turned back, letting your long and thick eyelashes ghost over your line of sight. all you could see was a frozen chef, standing tired, but staring back at you.

when his gaze fell to the floor, you stepped closer. he glanced up.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you softly asked, “what’s up, carmy?”

“first time i had someone over.” his parted lips closed so he could swallow, and his eyes drifted between your lips and the floor. the words were right there, on his tongue. they were so close you could feel them, taste them. he replied, “i, um… don’t want it to end, uh — i guess.”

you smiled and turned around in place, barely inches from his face. his breaths were pushing past his lips in small, light puffs that hit the tip of your chin. it was like he was conscious of everything he was emitting; his vibe, where he was looking, even his fucking exhales. he was cautious and frozen and all you wanted was for him to be relaxed, or as close to, as he was moments ago.

“already drank you out of house and home, carmy. what else you got in mind?”

his eyes widened, but his voice stayed level. “what else i got in mind?”

you hummed in agreement with a coy smile on your face. you folded your lip between your teeth and stepped backwards. carmy glanced at your hips and feet hesitantly, shifting his weight slightly. while his eyes were trained on you, his parted lips quivered slightly which told you that there was still some nervousness lingering in him. with every step you took, carmy took one as well. you kept stepping backwards, and carmy kept stepping forwards, until your back was pressed against the wall.

carmy’s lips weren’t slightly quivering anymore. there was no hesitation in his figure when he leaned down slightly and rested a flat palm against the drywall above your head. his breath was hitting you on both cheeks — as if they weren’t hot enough already. inside you were screaming. you were screaming, and screaming, and screaming and all you wanted to do was grab both sides of his face and smash your lips to his. you wanted to, but you wouldn’t. you wanted to see if he would.

“you know,” you spoke, raising your back. your cold palm pressed against his cheek. it was burning — almost as bad as yours. “even though you’re the boss… never seen you actually taste anything.”

“no?” he rasped. the gruffness in his voice pricked at your cheeks and went straight to your core. “and what do you want me to taste, sweetheart?”

you released your grip from his cheek and brought your hand down to your face. with a manicured nail, you tapped the plumpness of your bottom lip. you stared into his eyes — a dare.

“fuck.”

with his free hand, carmen wrapped your hand in his own and pressed it to the middle of his chest. he held it there, pressed against his heart, and surprisingly it was the exact spot you wanted to hold him. you wanted to hear — no, feel his heart that was beating slightly faster than normal. when carmen finally pressed his chapped lips against yours… you saw stars.

the alcohol coursing through your veins made you melt into the man before you. his hand on the wall slid down until he was rubbing the side of your neck, and then gripping the base of your skull. his fingers, his beautiful, skillful fingers threaded through your hair like it was one of his pieces of art and he was creating something. he twisted your strands until he had your head bent back, practically supported by the heavy palm of his hand. the motion made you gasp into his mouth. carmen swallowed it whole. every. last. bit.

“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned against your lips.

you hummed with him. the warmth of his body engulfed your body into his until the moment started and ended with carmen anthony berzatto. you could taste the liquor on his tongue that danced with your own. with every breath he took, bits of smoke would linger between the two of you. it went straight to your head, swallowing your senses whole. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or carmen himself, but you felt like you were swimming.

“this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling away for a second. a thumb of his stroked the skin of your cheek as he stared at you, waiting for feelings of regret from you. “d-do you want me to stop?”

“please don’t stop, carmy,” you gasped, pulling him back into. “you’re perfect.”

you didn’t expect that would make carmen slide his hands down your body and grasp the back of your thighs. his fingertips pressed into your skin, pulling your legs up and around his waist. you squealed against his teeth and couldn’t believe you had found yourself in this situation.

it’s not that carmen wasn’t handsome, no. the man was drop dead gorgeous in a tortured artist way, and you always had a thing for men that looked like they needed a hug but wouldn’t admit it. but… he was your boss.

what could you do about that? it’s not like you could stop now. even if you had told him to stop, got your shit and left — the damage was done. you both had crossed the boundaries, and you were going to reap what you sewed.

in that case… might as well have a little fun with it.

he had placed you on a neighboring table. his large hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and you couldn’t help but whine into his embrace. his tongue glided over your lips and teeth and with your tongue in the messiest way possible and all you could chant in your head was more, more, more.

and that’s when you found yourself pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.

he stepped back slightly, throwing his shirt over his head. his swollen lips were parted, and his eyes searched your face. you found your chest rising and falling with anticipation, and realized you should’ve been more concerned with how he was dealing with all of this.

“you okay, carmy?” you whispered.

he nodded, letting a few fingertips of his ghost over the skin of your cheek. his crystal eyes glanced down to your lips.

“we can stop, you know,” you whispered again. “it’s okay.”

he nodded again before dipping his head down to the side of your neck. his plump lips left wet kisses on the sensitive skin and you moaned into the open air. you widened the space between your knees, allowing for carmen to wedge himself between your thighs.

“you’re always talking such good care of me, sweetheart, so good to me,” he rasped against your throat, sucking on the skin. “but all i want to do right now is have my fingers inside you. y’gonna let me?”

“yes, carmy,” you whined. “yes please.”

“such a polite girl f’me.” carmy’s mouth was attacking your throat. moans escaped passed your lips like carmy was squeezing them from you, claiming them. his fingers traveled down the front of your clothes and stopped at the button of your jeans. sliding it open, carmen berzatto slipped his perfect hands into your jeans.

“right there, please,” you gasped once his fingers found your bundle of nerves.

his fingers dipped into your core and spread it all over where you needed him most. warmth began to spread through your hips and your knees widened for him. his drew circles different ways until he noticed that when he drew counterclockwise circles, you bit your lip and your eyes appeared to involuntarily flutter shut. you felt carmy smirk against the skin of your neck.

“what made you this wet, baby?” he hummed, sucking at the base of your throat.

“you, carmy,” you whined. “felt it as soon as i saw you when i first walked in. needed you so badly.”

he smirked again. “so bringing my things wasn’t of the purest intentions?”

heat rose to your cheeks with the sensual actions that were taking place below the belt and carmy’s accusation. you grew worried at what he would say if you said no, that you honestly just wanted to help him out… but if carmy wanted to play like that, you could play.

“n-no,” you whined as the pleasure began to spread throughout your whole body.

carmy was holding you so close to him. it was like he was your support — supporting you through such a physically vulnerable moment. your legs were practically shaking at this point, trying to take everything he was giving you and not start sobbing. you were grabbing at any piece of him you, wanting to kiss him — but he wouldn’t let you. fucking bastard.

“good,” he stated, staring you dead in the eyes. your mouth fell open at his response, a pant pushing passed your lips. “i don’t have the purest of intentions when i do this.”

carmen berzatto slid two long, thick fingers inside you ever so slowly. the motion pulled small moans out of you like you were a pathetic mess of a puddle and the sun rose and set with him. you felt his fingertips press against the upper wall inside you, while another finger worked at your clit, and all you could do was hold onto him tighter.

“it feels so good, carmy,” you whined. “i love your fingers so, so much.”

“yeah, baby?” he breathed against your ear. “you wanna cum f’me?”

“faster, please, i will,” you sobbed. you fucking sobbed as the tapping motion inside you hastened. “oh god — oh my fucking god —“

“that’s it, sweetheart? that’s what you needed?”

“yes, yes — fucking — fuck — yes.”

“f-fuck —“ he groaned broken, incoherent phrases against your throat. his breath was hot and heavy on your skin and all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you, and also how badly you wanted all of him inside you. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke, “show me how good it feels, baby. finish all over my fingers f’me.”

that broke you.

that fucking broke you.

it was like a shock of lightning hit you straight in your core and the power from the strike spread throughout your entire body. every muscle of yours went taut as you arched your chest into carmy’s.

with his expert hands, he fucked you through the orgasm. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. keep cumming for me.”

it was like carmen berzatto knew everything to say to make you shatter. you couldn’t even breathe — all you could do was give into the spreading feeling of bliss and hold your breath while it washed over you. it was wave, after wave, after wave of mind-numbing orgasm and carmen held you through all of it.

“pretty girl.”

“i know, baby. you’re such a sweet girl f’me.”

“that’s it, sweetheart. take it.”

once the waves finished hitting you, your chest was rising and falling heavily. carmen peppered light kisses along your neck, being gentle as to your state, but you were having none of it. you reached for his belt.

“greedy.”

you smiled lazily at him. “any objections, chef?”

he smirked at you, letting his fingers ghost over your sensitive core. a shiver ran up and down your spine at the almost painful action. “be careful — or i’ll make you cum again.”

you knew he wasn’t joking. you let out a slight giggle before you dragged the zipper and his boxers down. freeing his cock, you pumped his shaft.

carmy was once dominantly kissing your neck and whispering mean things in your ear, but now he was using the crook of your neck to support his forehead.

“you have such a pretty cock, carmy,” you whispered in his ear. there was something so comforting about being intimate with a man where you both could be vulnerable, and you weren’t sure if you would ever let it go. you want him everywhere he would let you have him. “i don’t know if i want it in my mouth or inside me more.”

he chuckled at that, crooning back into your embrace when you would touch a very sensitive part of him. “dirty girl — you’re so fuckin’ evil.”

you were worried the friction was becoming too much for him, but you didn’t want to raise your hand to your own lips, so you swiped some of the juices from your core and used it to lubricate the skin of carmy’s cock. it was a quick motion — you didn’t think he’d notice, and plus his eyes were most likely closed.

but when he spoke, you froze.

“do-do that again.” his voice was rough with lust. “do that again for me.”

you were hesitant at first, but you decided to make a show of it. you slowly dragged two fingers up the length of your slit and rubbed a very slow circle around the circumference of your clit. you gasped at the sensitivity, slightly jumping at the touch.

“fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, breath humid on your neck.

you smirked at his response and reached for his cock. your hand slipped along the smooth skin of his cock, drawing a deep groan from carmen. the poor man was so sensitive — almost aching from what giving everything he had to you previously felt like.

“so big, carmy,” you breathed. “so big and pretty.”

“y’know what would be prettier?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw line. “watching you put it inside you. can you do that, baby?

you smiled at him devilishly. carmy’s hands shoved the rest of your jeans down your legs and flung them somewhere in the room. your pussy was aching — dripping for the man before you. the sensitivity had left you, no longer prickling at your nerve endings. all that was left was the want for more — anything carmy had to give you.

“please,” you whined, rubbing the head of his cock against your glistening folds.

“i love when you beg f’me,” he groaned. “such a good fuckin’ girl.”

both of your lines of sight drifted down to the view of your hips. you both watched in awe as you lined carmy up with your entrance as he pushed his hips towards you.

the throws of passion and want for carmy were intense, sure — but so was the want to enjoy this while he could. he pushed in the tip of his cock, groaning slightly as your tight hole encased him. you whines at the barely filled feeling — so empty, needing more. carmy, however? carmy didn’t care. he wanted to feel every push and pull of your muscles between your hips.

carmy kept his eyes turned down at your pussy and you swallowed more and more of him inside you. he gripped the flesh of your waist, fingertips digging into you. your own hands were splayed our flat against the cool countertop of the table — a direct juxtaposition of the boiling feeling that electrified the top of every inch of your skin. you whined as carmy took his time with his thrusts, pulling back every so often when he felt resistance, and then pushing back in ever so slightly, yet slightly farther, each time.

“please, more,” you gasped, folding your lip between your teeth. “i want all of you.”

“baby isn’t patient, huh?” he asked, continuing with his motions. “gotta have it all, when you want it?”

“i can’t be teased right now,” you sobbed. it was pathetic how needy you were, but fucking christ did it turn carmy on.

“this what you want, baby?” he asked, pushing into you deeper.

your walls were squeezing him like he was the only thing that existed to you. the burn at your entrance was something so bittersweet, something so delicious — you didn’t know how you were going to keep control and make this special for him as well, let alone how you weren’t going to cum right then. but you didn’t care — you didn’t have the strength to care.

“yes, carmy — please,” you begged, bucking your hips into him weakly. “fuck — your cock feels so good.”

“yeah, baby?” he pressed into deeper. “so impatient you can’t handle it slow?”

“i want you to fuck me, carm,” you bit with lust dripping from every word. “fuck me — use me however you want — please.”

fuck.

that set him off.

carmy was a patient and low maintenance man, sure, out of necessity and convenience mostly. however, when he had the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with a dirty mouth to match, talking back to him, and begging him to be selfish?

fuck patience. fuck ease. and fuck being selfless.

carmen’s grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed the last parts of his cock inside you.

it immediately hit you right where you needed him — that soft, sensitive spot so deep that barely anyone before him could dream of reaching. your walls gripped the smooth skin of his cock and you screamed. you fucking wailed when he finally pounded into you painfully, but so fucking sweetly.

“dirty — fucking — girl,” he grunted, thrusting upwards into your pussy.

there was nothing like the sight of carmy finally taking what he wanted. no expression of shame, or guilt, or hesitation on his face — just a man, slightly bent over before you, inside of you, holding you so close to him because, in that moment, you could give him what he wanted — needed. and, in that moment, all he needed was you.

the side of his face was pressed against yours, breathing heavily into your ear. the few groans he let escape his throat were guttural — almost animalistic. they went straight to your core, practically flooding around his cock. your whines of pleasure forced his hips forward and back faster and harder with each motion. balancing your weight and carmy’s with a firm hand of yours behind you on the table, you clamped your free hand on the back of his neck. you twisted a few stray strands of his hair around your fingers, tugging at them. every thrust caused you to pull his hair, him, closer and harder into you.

“laythefuckdown,” he spat, to your surprise.

the command startled you, sure — but it also made you bite your lip in anticipation. he pressed a wet, heavy kiss to your cheek, throwing butterflies in your lower stomach, as you released him. before you could lay down, he stopped you.

“you want to give me what i want, baby?” he whispered against your lips.

you nodded, gazing at him with dark, lust filled eyes.

“then i want your pussy to finish around my cock,” he stated. “think you can do that f’me?”

“y-yeah,” you replied, shakily, but full of trust.

you laid down and carmy regained his footing at the end of the table, keeping his cock pressed firmly inside you as he stood above you. his cock twitched against your most sensitive spot inside you, and you whined at the new angle. he gripped one of your hips firmly, but let his other hand ghost up your glistening lips.

“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, gazing at it. “takes my cock so well. but right here…”

he pressed his thumb against your clit.

you would’ve jumped if his hand wasn’t keeping you locked to the table.

“this is what i want,” he spat. “so fucking pretty.”

he began rubbing rough, fast circles on your clit. your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, and you thought you could cry from the sensation. your back arched off the table, and your hands struggled to find something to grip — to balance you as carmy tortured you.

but then his cock started working itself back into you again, hitting that spot that needed him so badly.

“think you can cum like this, baby?” he asked, taunting you. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“yes — !” you groaned, reaching for the end of the table with one hand. grabbing it, you tried to steady yourself, but it was no use. not with carmy. “fuck — it’s so much — it’s too much carmy —“

“gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

you threw your head up to stare at the man. he was rocking into you like that was the only thing he knew, fucking you like it was the only thing he wanted, but there was so much focus on his eyes. so much focus on you.

“gonna give me what i want?”

“yes, yes,” you were nodding your head so pathetically, so sweetly for him. tears were practically threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes, but they glistened at him, and only him, and god did it fuck with him. “please, carmy — let me cum for you.”

“do it,” he ordered. “fuck, baby — cum for me.”

your hips were bucking against his pelvis and his hand, too erratic for him to be precise like he wanted to. you were chasing his fingertips, chasing the orgasm that even in his selfish state he was so generous to give. whines left your throat involuntarily as the intensity in your lower abdomen grew, and grew, and grew. your eyes were screwed shut as you pushed yourself to your elbows, holding yourself up as you couldn’t help but curl into yourself. carmen may have been looking at you, or something else — it didn’t matter. all you saw was the black of your eyelids, until is was white.

white. pure white.

your finger nails dug into the meat of your palms as the heat spread from your womb to the entirety of your body. every nerve ending and hair rose to the highest point of height they could, and you held your breath. the feeling of immense pleasured you washed over you — wave after wave, after wave, after wave. it hit you, it crashed into you, it fucking drowned you — it swallowed you whole until you were gasping for air. your orgasm was violent — practically mine splitting. you were shaking. you were sensitive beyond belief, beyond repair — and the prickling feeling wouldn’t stop. you were gasping for air as you looked down, only to find carmy’s hand still working between your thigh.

still rubbing those fucking circles.

“c-carmy,” you sputtered, tears wet in the corner of your eye. “please — i c-can’t.”

“shhh,” he whispered. “just keep cumming, baby. just keep cumming for me.”

your chest split open at that, throwing you back against the table top. shivers went up and down your spine as you took carmy’s torture.

“that’s it, baby. that’s it.”

his words were music to your ears as you screamed for him.

“ohh, fucking shit — that’s it —“ he hissed. “just like that. take it all for me — oh, fuck.”

you were dazed and confused on carmy’s table, basically seeing stars. absolutely useless, fucked out beyond words. you felt the weight and warmth of carmy’s body lean over, and rest against yours, as his hips sloppily rocked into you.

you wrapped your legs around the middle of carmy’s back, locking him in place. one hand went to clamp on the back of his head, and the other pressed against the side of his cheek.

against his lips, you whispered, “cum for me, carmy, please. i want to feel you inside of me.”

“good — fucking —“ he grunted, pressing his lips to yours in a farm, hard kiss as he shook. carmy’s tongue shoved itself into your mouth, and down your throat. carmy was everywhere — so deep in every part of you. you hummed with each moan of his you swallowed, rocking your hips against his and rocking him through his orgasm. gasps left his lips as he gripped any part of you he could, doing anything he could to hold onto you and keep you in place.

“holy f-fucking shit,” he gasped against your cheek, pressing kisses to your cheek and the length of your neck. “that — that was — it was so —“

“i know,” you spoke, giggling slightly.

carmy laid his head against your collarbone and you weaved his wet curls around your fingers. he rested fully against you, completely relaxed.

“fuck your friends,” he mumbled. “stay here tonight — as long as, um — you want to, that is.”

your giggle hummed in your chest. carmy’s confidence leaving him in the middle of the sentence surprised you slightly, but not enough to leave you unamused. “‘m not imposin’?”

he chuckled at that, and pulled you up from the table and into his arms. "fuck off."

-----

lmk what you think :) love yall -L

[marilynthornhilllover]

Can you please write rough smut for grey hair Emily Prentiss that’s just… total shameless filth😭 like choking, breeding kinks, semi public sex (in her office)

I could eat that girl for lunch

Emily prentiss x Fem!reader

Warning: smut 18+, breeding kink, semi public sex, breast kink, spitting kink, choking kink, praise kink, mommy kink, one slap, slight cunniligus, fingering, slight strap fucking, etc.

A/N: oh I lost it with this one🤭enjoy sorry it took so long 😭

You knew it was wrong to think of your boss Emily in such a way.... but God damn it. You just couldn't control yourself anymore. I mean come on she's the Emily prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, who wouldn't be obsessed with her, sorry in love with her. She was insufferable, almost irresistible like a drug. The way she would bite her lips when ever she laughed or was focused on something very important.

Or The way she held her hands in her pockets and stood against door frames or leaned against desks. The way her hips would sway whenever she struts down the hallway towards her office and finally, the way she looks at you. The way this woman would look at you was everything. Her eyes, they were always glued to you when you were busy doing your work. She thought you didn’t notice her but gaze detection is a real thing that works.

Emily would stare at you as if she wanted to devour you. And it always made you weak. It made your skin get heated and your mind go dizzy. You couldn’t focus when her eyes were on you, it was as if every cell in you wanted to explde. The time you wore a strapless shirt to work because it was too hot out, and for the entire day she couldn't find the decency to stop her eyes from roaming over your collarbone and shoulders, and the other time you wore a mini skirt and a top that had a zip in the middle that was pulled down just enough to see your cleavage. She went nuts.

Emily knew of your angel face, but she didn’t let that fool her. She knew you had dirty thoughts of her, you even went as far as making a dirty jokes about her. One time she overheard Jennifer asking you if you were to fuck anyone in the office who would you fuck and you had chosen 'Emily'.

You always had a thing for older women, and everyone in the office knew, so maybe it’s obvious that you had quite a massive crush on your boss as well. You heard rumors of Emily being “ talented” with her tongue and “skilled” with her fingers. You did have the privilege to meet one of Emily’s ex-girlfriends at a seasonal greeting event, and by her words “ Emily almost took her out of the world”.

You did try to do your work as best as possible and tried your very hardest to keep out of her way. And for some time it had seemed to work. Emily caught onto the drift and sensed that you were giving her the cold shoulder and the both of you stuck to strictly business and work professional procedures and encounters. But none of this stopped Emily from winking at you from time to time and even going as far as moving you aside by your waist using her hands when you were both in the kitchen getting lunch at the office.

Her hands in your waist sent electric shocks throughout your body, and each time she gave you a sly smirk. You did try to ignore her most of the time. And for a while it lasted.

So tonight you don’t know what possessed you to sneak into Emily’s office. There was a big case that was on the table and it required all hands on deck. You had decided to stay back and help Emily crack some codes but after half an hour in she left. It was pretty late, around 10:38 PM and you were exhausted. Your eyes flicked up to inspect your surroundings because sometimes people break into police departments to steal evidence.

That’s when you saw her that her office light was on and had decided to go turn it off and then after you would finish pack up and then leave . It wasn’t the first time being in her office, but it was the first time alone, by yourself….. with just her stuff. Her jacket was thrown on the back of her chair and a couple of her personal belongings sprawled out on her desk. You had already checked for cameras and any audio devices, there were none. So you took off your pants and panties, shirt and bra leaving yourself completely naked in your boss office.

Absolutely downright crazy, bat shit crazy. You sit in her chair and gently began fingering yourself at a slow pace, but quickly increased it as you became more desperate and needy. Your eyes were tightly shut closed, as your hand worked it’s magic down between your legs. All that can be heard was the wet sounds your cunt was making when you thrusted your fingers in your pussy, your weak hoasty moans and your loud and elaborate breathing as you neared your peak.

Your orgasm washed over you almost knocking you out of the chair and onto the floor causing you to topple over yourself . Your eyes hastily as you swallowed thickly and bit your lips.

“ well” a voice says, half disappointed half surprised. Your eyes snap up towards the entrance of the office to see Emily standing there. Her expression was unreadable. You felt all the blood drain from your face as your entire body freezes with both fear and shame. Emily smirked at you before she took a step into the room, closing and locking the door behind her ( you forgot to close the door?!) . She took slow strides towards the table as she pushed her hands into her pocket.

“ you know I really thought you were just a shy little good girl who knew her worth and knew how to ask for things…. But I guess I was totally wrong wasn’t I?” She asked, carefully walking around the desk, she stopped and stood in a position where she was pressing all her weight on one foot as she titled her head, inspecting you. She chuckled silently and further approached you.

“ could have fooled me babe” she says plainly, she then grabs you by your jaw and forces your face upwards to look at her. Still you remain frozen. A part of you couldn’t believe you had gotten into this situation and another part wanted to curl up into a ball and completely disappear for all eternity, never to be seen again.

“ look at you, I stood there for over 20 minutes, all in which you did nothing but fuck yourself senseless to the thought of me, don’t you see it now y/n your my slut” she says, purring the last two words, that may have reheated something in you because you need her all over again.

“ uh oh, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or did you lose your voice after screaming my name so loud? Oh Emily , fuck yes Emily, fuck me Emily” she mocked you and that’s when a realization of being naked hits you. You were completely bare before this woman. In her own office. Such a shame.

Emily’s eyebrow quirked in amusement as she looked at you shy away from her and look everywhere but into her dark eyes. She took the opportunity to look at your body intensely. With a silent hum her eyes wondered down your chest, stoping to look at your breast and how perked your nipples were. She then moved further down your body and her eyes landed on your vagina, from the way you were sitting she couldn’t see much but just the thought of fucking it got her going.

In one swift moment Emily grabbed you by your waist and tossed you onto the desk. You whined at the sudden action and prompted yourself up onto your elbows to remove some objects from behind of your back before you proceeded to lay down. Your legs opened up involuntarily which caused Emily to smirk as she stood between them causing them to spread even wider. Regardless of your previous orgasm you were already so desperate for this woman’s touch.

Emily took off her jacket and soon everything else went with it. She was bare in just her pants alone. You wanted her to remove it but you were too mesmerized by her stern breast to give a shit. Her pants were high waisted but allowed you to see her toned abs a little. God you wanted her so badly. Your shaking hands made their way up to her skin and you gently placed your hand on her abs admiring them, god she must work out real good. For a moment you thought that you were lost in heaven until you felt her remove your hand.

“Getting touchy now are we? That’s slutty behavior” she laughed, she loved teasing you and seeing you squirm beneath her. This wasn’t the first time Emily had you under this choke hold. There were many other times where she was able to get under you skin….. but those are stories for another time. She leaned down and hovered her lips over your mouth, contemplating if she should give into you or let you go crazy over her some more. Even though Emily could see the pleading look in your eyes she knew better than to give the devil what she wanted.

Emily chuckled as she removed a strand of hair from your already sweaty forehead to behind your ear. Her hand stayed there, behind your neck, for a while her grasp tightening every few seconds which caused you to release a quiet moan from your throat. Emily looked down at you in deep thought before her eyes flicked down to your lips. Her thump caressed your jaw for a little while before she spoke.

“ open your mouth” her request definitely caught you off guard but the way she said it made your thighs clench but you remember that she was laying between them, making it hard to do so. You looked up at her confused as your breathing got shallow. You gulped and did as she asked. For a while she did nothing but then she opened her mouth and slowly poured her saliva into your mouth.

You were a little disgusted because back in high school you were always the one to say that you’d never allow anyone to do this to you but things have changed, it’s Emily fucking prentiss. Sorry. It’s mommy. And something about this just turned you on more because you could feel the slick that was pooling between your thighs from your pussy. Emily stopped and watched you close your mouth. She gave you a look and you knew what she was asking without words. You swallowed. She then started kissing you. It was rough but slow at the same time, she made you feel as though you had all the time in the world.

She broke the kiss before you even had a chance to deepen it as she moved down to your breast. She left pecks all across your chest, small sucks and bites that will most definitely leave marks later on, not that you care. She continued her assault until she moved down to your nipple. She swirled her tongue around the small bud first before she looked up at you with mischievous eyes before then enveloped the entire bud into her mouth. Your head fell back and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to just feel. She abused the small bud by gently biting it and sucking on it like a baby enjoying your moans.

Her hand fondled with the other neglected breast as the other made it’s s way down to your pussy, Emily knew you weren’t paying attention to her works so without notice she carefully pulled your lace pink panties to the side and inserted two fingers at the same time without warning. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. Your hands immediately flew to the edge of the table for support. Emily smirked and released your nipple with a ‘ pop ’ sound as saliva made a bridge from her mouth to the bud to which she broke by licking her lips.

“ that’s it baby, just like that? You like when mommy gives you what you want without you having to ask her?” You couldn’t even respond to her, your mind was clouded with her insufferable praises, perfume and god did her fingers do a number on you. Everytime her digits slid out of you and back in her lips twitched. The sound of your cunt squelching against her fingers and your petty moans and grunts as your body began to spams made Emily want to do more despicable things to you until you couldn’t walk.

“ fuck so good, this is squeezing my fingers so fucking good baby, I wish I had a fucking real cock to split you open with, get you pregnant with my babies, you’d like that huh?” She whispered, increasing her pace as she curled her fingers deeper into you cunt, touching your g-spot every few seconds as she buried her fingers knuckle deep into you. You could feel your skin heat up as a familiar feeling of pleasure built up within your lower abdomen. Your hips bucked up towards every thrust of her fingers as your hand grabbed her wrist to slow her actions, you wanted to last longer to prove to her that you weren’t just some cum hungry slut. But that would be pointless because you are just a cum hungry slut.

But with her praises and her fingers moving at the speed of light it was truly impossible. You tried to pull it off a little longer but you couldn’t.

“ I feel you clenching me so tight baby, let it go for mommy, I wanna feel you drench my fingers so bad baby” she purred in your ear, her breath hot against your skin, and with that sentence you came for her. You eyes rolled back and you could feel your juices pouring out of you and onto her fingers. Emily kept fucking you drawling out every whimper, twitch and cry that you had to give. You were completely dumbstruck and spiraling.

You felt as she withdrew herself from between your legs as the sound of her jeans being removed. You stayed there trying to catch your breath. You looked down to Emily and that’s when you see her pulling off her pants completely, a strap around her waist. It was a clear light purple with small glitter pieces in it and it was huge. Without even realizing you tried to back away from her but Emily was two steps ahead, catching onto what your intentions were she pulled you back down by your ankles and forced your legs apart.

Emily placed her hands under your knees and pushed them up above your chest. You’ve never seen any strap that big or long and you anticipated how well she’d fuck you with it for your first time. It was as if you became a virgin again.

“ why are you running now darling? You wanted mommy to fuck you so badly when you were in here all by yourself. Your gonna take it like a good girl now” her tone was so dark and seductive it made your skin crawl and your insides burn with desire.

She pinned your hands above your head and slowly sank the tip of her cock into you forcing a moan out of you. Your eyes slammed shut as you tried to focus on the stretch, the way she made the pain and the pleasure mix so good. She let loose of your hands and gently started choking you. The deeper she buried herself within you the more your eyes would roll back and your legs would quiver. You desperate pleas of moans and cries filled the room as Emily started thrusting into you with full force. Deep and fast the tip bruising your sweet spot every time.

Emily angled her hips ever so slightly, just enough to push her cock up against your cervix. Gently at first, but when she heard the mewl that escaped your mouth at her action and the way your body convulsed it became rougher each time. You trembled as she kept thrusting into you.

“ oh— oh GOD— Emily please, fuck I can’t TAKE IT ANYMORE” you cried but it fell on death ears. You tried to close your thighs to eliminate how well her cock drives into you but Emily’s grip on your neck made you mind mush. Continuing your attempt you tried to move away from her but that resulted in you getting a hard smack across your face as she choked you much rougher. Her nails digged into the flesh out your waist as she started pounding your pussy brutally whispering insults that you couldn’t quite hear due to your moans and the sound of her thighs connecting with your slick.

“ fuck that’s it, right there? Mhm? Right fucking there” she cooed as she pushed your legs further apart and circled her hips as she made her thrust more curved. Your body began to tremble and Emily chuckled as she looked down at the white circle ring around her cock. She felt as your body tensed up and you let out a pornographic moan of her name. She kept thrusting after you came until you whined and pushed her away with a hand on her abs. She pulled out and kneeled down eye level with your cunt.

She cleaned up the mess with her tongue. Cautiously sucking and pulling at your clit until you pushed her head away. She smiled at her work and at herself and looked up at you. Your chest raised and fall with every breath you took and your thighs were still shivering. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before whispering.

“ round two? We’ve got all night and I’m sure i recall you saying your flexible….”

[holylulusworld]

Not alone any longer

Summary: You try to believe in your blooming friendship with Clark.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, fluff, Lois bashing, Lois is the worst, destruction of a car

Catch up here: Alone again - Naturally

“Clark, you came,” you gasp as Clark stands in front of your home. He’s got a bouquet of daisies in his hands, offering them to you. “I mean, you’re early.”

“We have a date,” he half-laughs. “You remember we wanted to go on a date.” Clark nervously looks at you. “Did you change your mind?”

“No!” You hastily say. “I didn’t change my mind. It’s just…uh… I didn’t know what to wear.” You drop your gaze. “It’s been a while since someone asked me out. I didn’t know where we were going and tried on so many outfits that I forgot about the time.”

Clark flashes you a soft smile. He seems almost shy when you take the flowers out of his hand, and invite him in.

While you look for a vase, Clark looks around your small apartment. It’s nice, cozy and inviting. You’ve got fluffy pillows on our couch, and lots of plushies keeping you company while you try to write.

“I read one of your articles. Uh-the one about the missing cat, and how the owner did everything to find them. It was heartwarming how you described their reunion.”

You awkwardly look down at your shoes. Embarrassed about your meaningless article, you sigh deeply. “You shouldn’t have read that crap. No one does read it.”

“I liked it very much, Y/N,” Clark softly says your name, making you feel warm. You can see the honesty in his eyes when you finally look at him. “You’ve got talent, Blossom. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You shrug. “I’ll never win a Pulitzer Prize, or be as famous as Lois,” you sniffle. “She’s a star, and I’m the dirt under her shoes. Let’s be honest. Out of all the people I know, I’m the loser among them.”

“Y/N, that’s not true!”

You raise your hand and shake your head. “It’s okay, Clark. Why do you think none of my so-called friends stayed in touch?” You wipe your eyes. “Lois only invites me to rub her success and fame in my face. She didn’t even recognize that I left the party. If not for you, I’d be dead, and she wouldn’t even care. No one does.”

“I care,” Clark steps closer to grab your hand. “Not only because I saved you, Y/N. Before, during the party, you caught my eye. You looked as lost as I felt. I sometimes don’t know why I live here, among people who’ll never understand the burden of my powers and origin.”

“Oh, Clark.” You suddenly wrap your arms around him to comfort Clark. The strongest and bravest person you ever met. Running your hands up and down his back, you murmur his name. “I babble about my unimportant life and ignore that you must be struggling too. Hiding your true nature must be exhausting.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. Clark holds you close to his warm chest, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He hasn’t felt a connection with a person for a long time.

“It’s easier now that I got someone important in my life,” he whispers against you. Clark buries his face in your neck and sighs.

“Oh, who’s that? Did you meet someone nice?” You innocently ask, dipping your head to look up at Clark. “I hope they are nice.”

“Blossom, I meant you,” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know about my secret for weeks, and didn’t try to take advantage of it.”

“Why would I? You’re a hero, and it’s an honor to know about your secret identity,” you shyly glance up at Clark. “Even though, flying still scares me.”

“I promise to fly carefully with you in my arms.” He smiles when you shy away. You didn’t think Clark wanted to see again, let alone, fly with you again. “I’ll not drop you.”

You giggle when he tells you. “What if you sneeze, and I slip out of your hands? I’ll end up as a pancake on the ground.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Not the red you saw in pictures or videos on the news. No. Worry, fear even. “I never get sick.”

“You never get sick?” You wonder aloud. “Oh, that’s good. I think. I mean, you’re from another world. Makes sense that our diseases can’t harm you.”

“Sometimes I wish that I was a normal guy, with normal problems and a normal life. No one would believe that Superman lies awake at night, dreaming of losing his powers.”

“You do?” you whimper. “I didn’t know you were lonely and sad too.” You hide your face in his chest. “But we are friends now. So, you’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “We are friends now…”

“Lois, what’s wrong?” You gasp watching your friend storm into your home. She huffs and throws her locks back while brushing past you. Lois looks around your living room, sneering as her eyes land on the daises Clark got for you.

“You know exactly what’s wrong,” she twirls around to glare at you. “Your life must be extremely shitty if you must go out with my boyfriend!”

“Your boyfriend?” You frown deeply. “I thought you’re single. And I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Clark Kent!” She spats. “You had to date my boyfriend, didn’t you? Just you know, he only feels sorry for you. Pathetic little Y/N, always so lonely and sad, standing in the corner to lure sweet Clark in.”

“He’s not your boyfriend,” you’re getting angry. “You broke up with him over a year ago. And, when he talked to me, I didn’t even know he was your ex. What Clark and I do is none of your business. We are friends and like spending time together!”

Lois wrinkles her nose at the word friends. “Does he know you’re a frigid, emotionally disabled and whiny little bitch? I guess not.”

She raises her hand to slap your face. You flinch and prepare for the impact when something outside your window explodes. Dropping to the ground, you press your hands to your ear as Lois screams in terror. She needs a moment before running toward your balcony.

Ever the investigative journalist, she steps onto your balcony to look down at the sidewalk to see her car got destroyed. It seems like it got cut into two halves. “No, what…” She shakes her head. Lois knows there’s only one person in this world able to cut her car into two halves within the blink of his eyes. “Why would he do this?”

Superman floats high above the sky, unseen. Watching Lois yell at you, he got angry. Even more, when she raised her hand against you, he couldn’t hurt her, so he did the next best thing. Clark sent a warning to her.

“You destroyed her car,” you glance down at the people in the streets. They look like ants as you float above the city. “Why?”

“She wanted to hurt you,” Clark holds you safe in his arms as you cling to him. You’re still scared of flying around with him, but he asked you to come with him so sweetly, you couldn’t deny him. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I got so mad and… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

“I’d smashed her car too if I had any powers,” you give him a cracked smile. “She was vile and mean without a reason. Lois only got mad because we are friends now. She is like a kid wanting her toy back after she threw it away.”

“I’m a toy?” He looks at you in his arms.

“No…that’s not…” you sigh. “I didn’t mean it that way. She’s just…”

“I know, Blossom.” Clark presses his lips to your forehead. “What she said was mean. I couldn’t let her hurt you even more.”

“She’s not wrong,” you sniff. “I’m not good with dates and such. Men usually run for the hills after one date because I get nervous and anxious easily.”

“Y/N, I like you the way you are,” he whispers. Clark dips his head to press a soft kiss on your lips—a short and sweet one to test the waters. You giggle as your cheeks heat up. “I like you a lot, Blossom.”

“I like you a lot too, Clarkie,” you smile at Clark, feeling your heart flutter. “Can you…” You giggle, “Kiss me again?”

You don’t have to ask twice. Clark kisses you again, soft and sweet, while you float about the city. You forget about Lois and the rest of the world. It’s just you and Clark, and that is enough…

Part 3 - FIN

Tags in reblog.

[subwaysurf45]

She’s Not Mad

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways. 

Words: 9k (if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been...)

Warnings: Bucky has mommy issues, mentions of oral sex, nudity, angst, fluff, college!bucky, slow burn

A/N: thanks for the patience! 

Masterlist

A Couple of Weeks Ago…

“So, you’re not a thing?” Bucky asked as he shoved his laptop and notebook back into his bag, grabbing the handle of his water bottle and choosing to carry it with him for the walk. 

The two boys were higher up in the rows of the lecture hall as they peered over the two girls talking to the professor. Steve had his eyes drilled into Natasha, the girl standing off to the side as her friend went over a question she had. 

“She told me she is still figuring out her feelings since her last serious relationship,” Steve sighed as he packed up as well, “and I told her I’d wait- apparently this guy’s parents had given their family engagement ring and everything.” 

Bucky pulled the corner of his lips out tight as they began to walk down the stairs, “who’s the other girl?” 

“The one that was just asking the question is Y/N,” Steve watched as both girls left the room, “good friends, met last year, live together now.” 

“She’s cute,” Bucky said purely, no smirk or innuendo.

********

You sat over your laptop in the library with both hands acting as a brim to cover your eyes from the people around you. Tears rolled down your face as you studied the practice question, you felt pathetic and you tried to sniffle as quietly as possible. If anyone saw you silently bawling you’d drop out, it was stupid enough already when the librarian walked over and dropped a tissue box off without saying a word. 

“What do you mean?” you whispered to the page for the hundredth time, hoping for some answer. 

You had done the homework, you went to the study groups, you even extended your prof's office hours because you wanted to make sure you were doing everything right. Yet here you were, sitting alone on a Friday night because you still can’t do the practice assignment. Quitting felt like the only option, it wasn’t like everything was going to click; it was too late. 

This was just going to become the thing that you could never do, simple as that. Sometimes there are subjects that no matter how hard you try, you don’t have the flair. It was a tough pill to swallow but you’d never be able to do any work if you’d continue to hold yourself to a high standard, it was a win to get the little things right, not the entire question. 

The idea of failing was new to you. The jump from high school to college was still something you never adapted to, you always expected nineties on everything and not the mindset that C’s get degrees. 

Trying to do the question was like beating a dead horse, you needed a break. You ran your hands over your face and leaned back in your chair, hearing pops from your back as you did so, until you were leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. When you looked straight you saw someone already staring at you. 

He had longer brown hair that hit his jawline, blue eyes that jumped out at you, and a very concerned look on his face. He was familiar but you didn’t know what it was from. 

“Are you Natasha’s friend?” The guy came up to your empty table. 

“Yeah?” You wiped away your tears, extremely confused as he pulled out the chair right beside you to sit at the eight sided table. 

“I’m good friends with Steve, I think the two of them have something going on- not important, but I kind of know you and I'd rather not leave someone I kinda know alone crying, so…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you rolled your eyes and faced your computer again, “the absolute last thing I need is something watching me cry, alright?” your bottom lip wobbled as you kept your eyes away from his at all times. 

He was still staring at you, “come on,” he sighed and moved his hand to comfort you but thought otherwise, “I’m not going to laugh at you or run and tell everyone I know I saw a girl crying in the library- y’know what they’d say?” You could see him tilt his head, “they’d say what’s the big deal, haven’t we all?” 

You scoffed, “no they wouldn’t.” 

“You’re calling me a liar?” 

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Bucky,” he stuck out his hand, “Bucky Barnes.” You shook his hand, “and since I am a Barnes and was raised by my ma I simply can not let this continue, it’s my obligation to either cheer you up or take you home.” 

You scoffed again and tried your best to hide your smile, “and I’m Y/N, and in my family we stress about everything and never give up so I can’t leave until I get this question, so…”

Bucky’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he flipped the laptop to face him a little better, “this is the class all four of us have together, alright,” he read over the question and immediately furrowed his brows before looking at you again, trying your best to hold it together. He knew the answer but couldn’t bear to see your reaction, it was painfully obvious you were beating yourself stupid over these questions. 

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked like he was talking to a child. 

“I barely know you, dude,” you crossed your arms and ripped your laptop back to face you, “and I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to come in here and explain everything to me, alright, I’m going to figure this out on my own and I don’t need you, okay? So just head home, tell Steve I say hi.” 

Bucky took a deep breath himself, “that question isn’t marked on the homework, the reason you can’t get the answer is because the way to get it has most likely not been taught yet,” he paused and saw your face crumble, “and I didn’t want to freak you out because you look like you’ve been here a while and you seem to be beating yourself up and I just couldn’t-”

“Stop,” you whispered and covered your face with your hands, “just stop talking.” 

And he did. 

Trying your best to calm your breaths, it didn’t work. So fucking stupid, unbelievable, there’s no way you just spent close to an hour staring at a problem you didn’t even have to do in the first place. 

“Can you walk me home?” you squeeked. 

“Of course,” Bucky stood up right away and started helping you pack your bag, “I have some water, do you want it?” He held up his water bottle. You nodded and began drinking as you both made your way outside and towards your off-campus house. 

“Did you need to study?” you asked as you screwed on the cap. 

Bucky laughed and looked up at the night sky, “I was going for a walk because I heard there was a blood moon tonight, and there is, look,” he point up and saw the red mood looming above both of you, “and I just happened to walk past the library, I looked in the window and recognised your laptop as well as your hair, funny enough,” he laughed as he looked forward again. 

“So you just came in to see me?” you needed to make sure you were hearing this right, it’s not like it happens often. 

“I was going to introduce myself to you actually,” Bucky shrugged and looked over at you, “I know Steve and Nat are trying to figure things out and I thought friends of two people who might date should know one another. Then I saw you crying so I changed my game plan.”

You just nodded, slightly brushing into Bucky’s arm as you walked. It was hard to stay straight with the exhaustion taking over, every now and then you’d brush your knuckles past Bucky’s. He was a cute guy, and something about him being oh so caution around you made you feel important. 

“This is me,” you said later as you walked up the steps, “thanks Bucky, I hope we can be friends.” 

Bucky smiled and stood at the bottom of the steps, “if you ever get in your head again like that and need someone to pull you away, let me know- even in the middle of the night, alright?”

“Alright,” you laughed with your hand on the door handle. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. I look after the people close to me, I look after friends of friends like siblings,” there was no joking in his tone, it seemed other people doubted him on this promise. “I’ll give you my number,” he hand reached out for your phone. 

“I’ll be fine, you seemed to have good luck running into me,” you giggle and open the door to your house. Before it fully closed you felt resistance, looking over your shoulder you saw Bucky holding open your door. 

He was smiling, “then give me your number for another reason.” 

“Oh?” you turned and placed a hand on your chest, “you’re rather forward. 

“Well being cryptic didn’t work, did it?” He laughed and held out his hand again, “come on, I might need a study buddy one day- or even better, a lunch buddy.” you laughed as he tried to duck to meet your eyeline, “you don’t want to be my lunch buddy?”

“I’ll be your lunch buddy,” you giggled and handed him your phone, he wasted no time adding it in. “Goodnight,” you whispered and made it into your house, leaning back and resting against the door. You thought for a moment before breaking into a massive smile, replaying how he tried to keep eye contact with you. Or how he’d been so proud of how his mother raised him- “son of a bitch,” you whispered. 

He walked you back home and cheered you up. 

Just like he said he would. 

A Few Days Later…

Your phone must be hacked or something because your weather app said it would be completely clear today and sunny in the afternoon. As you sat in the cafe you thought it would clear up but it was only getting worse. 

All you needed to do was brave the rain and make your way home, but waiting for the perfect time when everything would let up for a moment was pointless. 

Walking as fast as you can with your head down, you saw your grey sweatpants become a darker shade instantly. It was a straight downpour with absolutely no sign of letting up, you swore you heard thunder when you waited at the crosswalk. Due to your phone lying to you, you had not brought a hooded article of clothing or umbrella so you just had to deal with everything going wrong. 

There definitely was thunder and the lightning was right above you, it seemed like you were the last person on Earth because everyone else was smart enough to stay inside right now; but not you. Down your little street you began to run, trying to get away from the lightning that was chasing you. 

If you could guess you’d say most people who had been struck by lightning most likely thought they were too far away, in denial as the sky opened up from above. It was hard to admit you were actually a little scared at that moment, rain getting in your eyes as you sprinted down to your house that was now in view. 

With your key at the ready you fell inside, slamming the door behind you. 

Natasha rounded the corner, “you idiot, I was trying to call you!” She screamed and saw your state, “Steve and Bucky are over-they drove over they could have picked you up,” Natasha got in your face to peel off the sweater, taking it off right over your head and leaving you in your bralette and those drenched sweatpants. 

“You took off my shirt when there’s boys here?” you whispered as you began to shake, covering your chest with crossed arms. 

“We guessed you were walking back so we put towels in the dryer,” as if on cue Bucky rounded the same corner with your fluffy towel ready, “thank you Bucky,” Natasha wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Hi, Bucky,” you squeeked, “glad we keep meeting like this.”

Natasha had walked upstairs, most likely getting different pants. Bucky got down on one knee and slipped off your shoes, “like what?” he asked as he looked up, he reminded you of a little puppy somehow. He was as big as a great dane but there was an underlying softness that made you want to hug him or just let him wrap his arm around you. 

You huffed as you pulled the towel tighter, “when I’ve just done something embarrassing and you’re there to save the day.”

Bucky stood up with his arms crossed, “only you would think crying or getting caught in the rain is embarrassing,” he shook his head and reached out to rub your shoulder that was covered by the towel, “I like helping and I like making sure people I know are okay, you know this.”

“I do,” you whispered and walked further in your house. Before you could get anywhere near comfortable Natasha whisked you away to change your soggy pants as well as throw on a sweater, they had also been thrown in the drier, everything was very toasty and warm.

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intensely at the football game going on. Natasha guided you back in and towards the couch. There was enough room for four of you but you knew thighs would be pressed up against one another, you were okay with that if Bucky was sitting beside you. Though you don’t see him often it was nice when you did even though you made it seem like it was embarrassing. Something about having someone who loves taking care of people take care of you so well caused you to crave it a little more. 

Bucky came around the couch with a mug, “hot chocolate for you,” he whispered and took the spot beside you, next to the arm rest. You thanked him and let your hand slightly burn on the mug when you held it, liking how the warmth began to spread up your arms. Natasha found her spot on the other side of you while Steve stayed on the edge, leaning forward and never looking away from the game. 

“This is really good,” you sipped it and whispered to Bucky, he just smiled and leaned into your side for a moment. 

“What were you working on?” he asked after a moment. 

“I was at the cafe for a little treat but before I was doing my elective course,” you spoke softly. It seemed like everything happened for a reason because you only got food at the cafe which left room for this hot chocolate now. 

“And that is?” Bucky giggled as he leaned forward again. 

“Art history,” suddenly, you were coy. Most people thought your elective was a bird course but to you it was actually interesting, it wasn’t often you were met with a positive response. 

His eyes got wide, “that’s sick!” Bucky readjusted himself off the couch, “I would have never even thought of that course, wow, that’s really cool. So, like, what do you-”

“Bucky, I love you, brother, I really do but-” Steve sighed, “can you please be quiet, this game is very important.” 

“I didn’t think the Big Game was on today?” you asked as you took another sip. 

“It’s not that,” Steve places his beer down, “it’s the State Cup Finals, it’s college football.” 

Natasha smiled and looked over, “his team’s the underdog and are actually on the road to winning the entire thing!” She giggled and linked an arm with Steve who was happy to cuddle up with her, “it’s actually very exciting once you learn the ins and outs of it.”

You just nodded and faced forward again, seeing Bucky out of the corner of your eyes rubbing his thumb on the neck of his beer bottle, staring off into space. The moment you leaned your head on his shoulder he looked over at you, your heart broke when you saw a sad smile. He was just trying to talk to you, he got excited for you and here he was being scolded. 

“Do you want to come look at some of my notes, or are you into this game?” you whispered and saw his eyes light up, both of you quickly stood and headed up stairs with your bag slung over your shoulder. 

The moment you walked into your room you felt everything slow down, Bucky slowly walked in and looked around. He was smiling to himself as he l took in your photos on the walls or posters, even your to do list seemingly growing on the white board you have mounted to one wall. 

You sat on the corner of your bed as he flipped through your notes, “so you’re, like, breaking down these paintings, it's not just the history of when they were painted?”

“Oh yeah,” you fiddled with the hem of your dry sweater, “most of these artist go insane and we look for that in the work or even just what was happening during the time with stuff that you’d learn in a normal history class but we look at if and when it get put into art,” this was your little thing you could talk about for ages, “very cool stuff.” 

Bucky nodded and flipped the pages, “your notes are amazing,” he whispered, “you’re a pretty good student, huh?” he looked over his shoulder and saw you sitting there, just staring at him as he made his way around your room. “What?” he giggled and made his way over to you, holding his hand out to get you to stand up. 

“Nothing,” you tucked your chin to your chest, getting coy at the attention. “You’re just…y’know, sweet.” 

Bucky just smiled and rubbed your arm, giggling as you both stared at one another for a moment. “Do you want to go back down?” 

“Sure,” you nodded and leaned forward, smiling as you both made your way back downstairs. 

The rain still worked its way down your windows as the beers and wine kept flowing. The game had ended a while ago but Steve and Bucky didn’t see a reason to leave, it was a good moment that no one wanted to end. You had finished your hot chocolate and moved onto wine, sipping it slowly as everyone talked. It was nice to be brought into this group even though it stemmed from Nat and Steve, there was good chemistry between the four of you. 

Talking to everyone was effortless, you didn’t need to act like someone else to fit in. no one was yelling over someone else to get their point across, there weren't any passive aggressive tones in anyone's jokes, it was carefree. It was relaxing to have people this easy to talk to. 

The only thing that wasn’t relaxing was the amount of times you caught Bucky staring at you. Everyone had migrated to the floor with their backs against different furniture so you could break out the board games, Bucky was sitting adjacent to you on your right and Steve adjacent on your left, Nat right in front. Every single move whether it be placing a card down or moving your little object around the board Bucky would find a reason to look at you. 

“Good one,” he’d pat your shoulder. 

“Let me move your piece for you,” he’d say before you could reach across the table. 

“Sorry…” he’d smile before taking your little object and moving it back four spots. 

He was very attentive, always watching and scanning. But the more you noticed it the more you figured out he was doing it to everyone, including Steve. Something happened whenever Bucky would either move Steve’s piece for him or go get another beer so he wouldn’t have to stand up, Steve would give this look. It seemed as though he was silently telling Bucky he knew something or he was pointing something out that had been a topic of conversation before. Bucky would try to laugh it off but Steve was very protective of Bucky, you just didn’t know why. 

The games had slowly come to a close, everyone not drunk but a little more than tipsy. Giggles flowed freely around the table as the conversation resumed again, your eyes were growing heavy as you traced the rim of your glass. 

“I’ll be back,” Bucky muttered as he headed to the washroom. 

The moment the door closed Steve sighed, “this kid.” 

“What?” you were getting protective, why was Steve about to talk shit about his best friend? 

Steve just shook his head, “It’s hard to see how badly Winnie fucked him up.” 

Your heart plummeted. Any tiredness had left your body faster than the little gasp escaped your lips. Who was this Winnie girl and why did he mess Bucky up? The thoughts circled your head, was he in an abusive relationship? Natasha looked like she didn’t know either, pouring more wine into her cup. 

When Bucky came back he sat closer to you and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrapped your arm around his. He must have been a little surprised but you rested your head on his shoulder and continued on like it was nothing. 

You were half asleep when Bucky tried to do something for Steve, maybe get him another beer but whatever it was it left Bucky looking like a sad puppy because Steve said, “Buck, relax, I can get my beers, thank you, but I got it, alright?”

Steve's tone was soft but also commanding, he wasn’t annoyed at all. With your eyes closed you pieced it together that Steve was trying to help Bucky in some way, maybe get him to relax a little more. It was out of love but Bucky was very quiet for the rest of the night. 

********

You and Bucky had started hanging out a lot more on your own. There were a lot of late night drives or study sessions, Bucky always came to the library to walk you home if you stayed late or had turned your brain into mush during your studying. 

What Steve had said stuck with you more than you thought it would, it didn’t impact how you saw Bucky but it made you more aware of his people pleasing tendencies. You wanted to do the same as Steve, tell him it was okay but you weren’t as close. You saw how hurt he was the last time and you just couldn’t do it to him. 

Currently you were both sitting on his bed, the movie was wrapping up. Half of his laptop sat on one thigh and the other half sat on Bucky’s, your arms were linked and there was a steady brushing of your thumb on his forearm. In all honesty, you thought you were lulling him to sleep when you looked up five minutes ago to see him fighting his dropping lids. 

When the movie faded to black both of you sat there for a moment, content with the sitcom that was coming up next. You looked up again to see him with his face scrunched up, his other hand was on his back. 

“What is it?” you asked and leaned over, he was rubbing a specific spot on his lower back with his thumb. 

Bucky held his breath as he leaned forward to move his hand, “I was working out this morning and there weren't any belts left for my deadlifts and I did something to my back.”

“Do you want a massage?” you offered, he’d do the same for you. 

“I’m okay, thanks,” he looked down at your head resting on his bicep. 

“I didn’t know you worked out,” you smiled, “you don’t have the, like, bodybuilder physique.”

Bucky laughed and wiped at his eyes, giggling to himself before answering. “I don’t want that look, but…” you could see the boast on the top of his tongue, he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek. 

“Tell me!” you sat up, taking the laptop off your lap so you could fully face him now, “are you, like, ripped or something?” you both laughed as he hugged himself so you couldn’t feel or see anything, “you are, shut up!” you placed both hands on his shoulders, his face so red from laughing and embarrassment you just wanted to take a bite out of it. 

“Steve calls it a sleeper build,” Bucky managed to wheeze out, he was trying to play-fight you off of him. 

“What the fuck is that?!” you gasped as your hands reached out but he copied you and intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“It’s when someone has muscle but you can’t really see it in normal clothing,” his face was calming down as well, but that stupid smile was still on his face. “It just kinda happened, just how I am.”

You tried to move his arms around but you couldn’t, his fingers were still tightly woven with yours. You just laughed and fell back into him, cuddling up again. “I had a friend's mom who was an actual masseuse, so…” you shrugged, “I actually know what I’m doing because she’d give me massages and walk me through her process.”

“You just want to take my shirt off, don’t you?” Bucky taunted. 

“I want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable the entire time we hang out and for the rest of the week,” you giggled before snuggling into his arm again and watching the show that had come on randomly. 

It took three days before Bucky came back for that massage. 

You were hanging out again like normal and he was still trying to relieve the ache in his lower back. It was becoming sad to see him so uncomfortable so you kept reminding him of your excellent massage skills. After what you counted as his third groan of pain you just looked at him and soon enough he was asking you to turn around so he could take his shirt off and lie down. 

Choosing your angle to stand with your back to him was a science, you wanted to make sure you had the mirror to look at but you also didn’t want to make it obvious. Part of you hated yourself for wanting to catch and peek at his body but it was infamous now, you just had to look. 

And my god was it worth it. 

It wasn't an obnoxious amount of muscle that made it seem like the strength drained from his brain and into his arms. The sleeper build comment was right, you had no idea. His chest made you feel comfortable and protected, the kind of chest you’d want to fall into when the subway starts up too quick and you’re not holding onto anything. His arms were, and you already knew this, amazing at covering so much surface area for hugs. They were secure and trustworthy, you knew that when you hugged him he had you; it also helped to remember when he’d whisper it in your ear. 

“Okay,” his voice was muffled by pillows at the top of your bed. 

You turned around and were greeted by his back which was also an amazing sight, the kind of body sculptors would use and their go-to subject if no one else was there. “I have some lotion on my hands,” you warned and pressed your palms onto his back and quickly began spreading the lotion around. 

Though this wasn’t a proper table and he was resting on one cheek instead of face down you knew this was the best he’d get for a college kid. You started all over and slowly worked your way to focusing on his lower back. When you felt the knot you knew you found it, the thing was massive. The low groan Bucky let out was close to pornographic as you dug into him. 

Something about seeing him grip the sheets, making his veins pop out, did something to you. At first you only really saw Bucky as another friend or a good member of the friend group you stumbled your way into. But the more you spent one-on-one the more you realized he was your perfect guy. Any guy can be perfect physically but his personality enhanced your view for him, it made you appreciate his looks even more. 

His laugh always brought out the crinkle in his nose and those pretty teeth, the sound of him giggling was music to your ears and also was the perfect accompaniment to his squinted eyes or broad smile. The same with his little fist pumps he does when beating you at a game either around a group of friends of a video game, that stupid celebration he does every time causes him to flex his bicep but that’s secondary to the little circles he makes with his fist.  

You kept working away and looking at his rested face once in a while, seeing his eyes closed and the relieved look on his face. There was something so pure about watching the guy your slowly obsession over fall into simple relaxation all because of you, it was a treat. 

“How’s that?” you whisper, “Bucky?” trying to make sure your pressure wasn’t too hard for him you wanted to check in, but he had fallen asleep. With the opportunity in front of you, you reached out and placed your bent knuckles along his cheek, feeling the stubble tickle your fingers. 

You found him blanket on his bed and covered him up so he wouldn’t get cold with his shirt off, before leaving you placed a kiss on his forehead before heading downstairs for a snack. You also wanted to give him space, let him sleep peacefully. 

Steve was down there when you got there, another roommate of his cooking as you found Bucky’s section of snacks to choose from. 

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked as he looked over his shoulder, not for long due to the football playing on the TV. 

“Sleeping upstairs,” you ate the goldfish as you rounded the couch to watch the game. 

He seemed taken aback at your casualness, “what did you guys do…?” he slowly looked over, most likely trying to see if your hair was disheveled or anything was blossoming on your neck. 

“I gave him a massage,” you shrugged and fell back onto the couch, “his lower back has been killing from his workout a while ago.” 

You could see Steve look over his shoulder to see if his roommate was also hearing this, he looked over at you again and squinted. “So- and correct me if I’m wrong here- you gave Bucky a massage and put him to sleep and now you’re down here getting a snack?” 

“You would be correct,” you smiled, “would you like to do a once over of my neck for hickies or maybe rummage through the trash for condoms?” you sassed and plopped a few more goldfish in your mouth, “I was helping him.” 

That statement made Steve look over his shoulder again. The roommate just shrugged with a smile before heading down to his room in the basement, noodles steaming from the cup. You just looked at Steve as he tried to piece together everything, it was actually funny to see him try to understand. 

“Bucky doesn’t accept help from anyone,” Steve turned to face you, “it’s his thing to never want to be in debt with anyone when it comes to favours of any sort.” 

“Well,” you just sighed, “I’ve been picking up on that too but I got to him I guess, he let me do something for him.” That was all you could say because you didn’t have a full background of why Bucky didn’t accept help from anyone you just knew he didn’t; the only clues you had were Winnie and her role in this. 

“That’s good,” Steve quickly added, “I’m far from saying it’s bad, trust me, it’s just he’s been in a funk for a while when it comes to that stuff, it ebbs and flows.” 

“Do you think he’ll ever tell me?” you asked as you watched the game, too embarrassed of the question to look at Steve. It seemed there was this vital piece of information that made Bucky who he was that was dangling right in front of your face, you were falling for him but that thing that made him him was out of reach. When Steve first made the statement he siad that this Winnie girl fucked him up which implied something bad much have happened and that can also mean something isn’t necessarily right. You were never going to fix Bucky but you did want to understand so you could help be a better friend to him and not unconsciously get in the way of his mindset. 

Steve nodded, “he’ll definitely tell you,” he looked over and smiled, “I mean, you’re all he ever talks about, this kid is head over heels for you  it’s just…some guys have hard times coming to terms with their past, he’ll get there though.” 

“I know,” you nodded, “I’ll obviously never force it out but I do want him to be aware I’m here to listen, y’know?” 

“He knows,” Steve laughed and stood up, going to the cupboard and grabbing a little snack for himself as well. 

You took a deep breath before standing up and heading back upstairs, you were guessing Bucky was still fast asleep. When you opened the door you found him still laying on his bed in the exact same position, only now there was little snores coming from him. 

With a pout you crawled back onto the bed and sat next to him, placing your hand on his back and sliding it down to his arm that was bent up so his hands could rest under the pillow. Your thumb gently rubbed his arm for a moment before pulling out your phone and scrolling through it. 

The boredom ate away at you, instead of scrolling through your phone you went to his dresser to find some clothes you could change into so you could crawl under his sheets and sleep over. When you pulled open his top drawer you were met with his underwear and socks as well as a box of condoms tucked to the side, you just giggled to yourself at the painfully college male sight in front of you. 

Something about wearing his boxers made your face heat up, that was a level of intimacy you wanted to reach with him one day but you didn’t know if it was time. Looking over your shoulder after a particularly loud snore you smiled to yourself and picked up a black pair, as you held it up you remember seeing the waistband sticking out of his jeans while he reached above his head to grab something for someone - you weren’t focused on his actions at the time. 

Quickly slipping your pants off and pulling up the boxers you maneuvered to his closet, finding your favourite hoodie he wore very often. This moment of intimacy, moving around Bucky’s room while he wasn’t aware, caused a surge of confidence to shoot through you. Though you had never talked to Bucky about what the relationship between you was, you knew both of you could agree there was no room for girlfriends or boyfriends for either of you, this was the time to build the foundation for something better later. Having this idea of only being the girl in his room you took off your bralette and tucked it back in his top drawer, across from the condoms.

You didn’t choose this bra specifically but you were wearing a slightly lacey bralette, it was far from lingerie but the lace added something to it. Making sure you put it where it wouldn’t be obvious but also not hiding it, you grew giddy at the image of Bucky finding it. 

Before getting in his bed you tugged and tugged the sheets under his body before managing to get the covers fully out from under him. You scooted in and pulled the sheets up to cover both of you, it seemed he really needed the sleep because nothing was waking him up, not even the little hug you gave him before turning off the lights and falling asleep beside him. 

********

You were sitting in class aimlessly scrolling through your phone during your five minute break in your lesson, your art history professor was one of the best teachers you've ever had. She was funny but also well informed, she also had a big heart and didn’t need a eulogy as a form of proof if someone asked for an extension due to a funeral service that day. 

Bucky: What the hell is in my dresser? 

Without knowing the tone or context your heart dropped. You read the text with Bucky’s voice as if he was screaming at you, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. It was in your head, you didn’t know if it was a flirty tone either. 

You: Just my bra, when I stayed over a couple of nights ago I changed into your clothes and just absentmindedly put my bra in your top drawer. I probably was just going through the motions and thought I was at my place. 

Bucky: Can I pick you up from class, when does your lecture end?

Something about him completely disregarding your explanation - lie or not - gave you the worst feeling in the world. Ice poured down your back as you watched your prof make her way back up to the little stage she teaches on, you couldn’t keep the conversation going and just needed to deal with it later. 

You: sure, it ends in an hour. 

Bucky: I’ll be there. 

Part of you didn’t want to leave when your lecture was over, you stayed in the hallway for a moment and thought of every single end of the world situation that could happen in the car. Bucky didn’t seem like a guy who hit women but your anxiety didn’t let you leave out that thought. He also didn’t seem like the guy who’d reveal he’d been dating another girl the entire time but who knows, he could be in a three year long relationship as you stood there. 

With all these terrible situations playing out in your head you decided to face it head on, you’d walk in there and wouldn’t let him talk; just saying your apologies with your eyes closed before he could get a word out. 

You walked down the steps and to the right to find Bucky’s car parked in front, coming up in the blindspot. You took a moment to take a deep breath, opening the door and sitting down as quickly as possible. 

“Do you-”

“Bucky,” you put your hand out but kept your eyes casted down, “I am so unbelievably sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I don’t know if you already have a girlfriend and she found it and it caused a rift in your relationship, or if you like to sleep with other girls and one of them found the bra and got jealous so you lost your credit. I don’t know what made you angry but please, I am so sorry for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I just put it in there and I-...” you just held your mouth open as you looked at the center console, you had run out of things to say. “Um,” you slowly looked up to see him frozen in shock, mouth still slightly open from when he began to say something, “sorry, you were about to say something?” 

Bucky had to physically rattle his head to get out of the shock he was in, “do you want to get some coffee?” 

Your eyes flicked up and it was your turn to stay frozen, “what?” 

Bucky pulled his brows together, “I was making a joke about the bra thing,” he seemed concerned at your extremely anxious state, “I don’t care what you leave at my place, I really don’t,” normally someone would laugh in awkward situations but Bucky didn’t, it felt like it made everything worse. “Do you want coffee?” 

“What is going on?” you couldn’t believe the situation you had put yourself in, nothing was making sense. 

“Don’t get all mad at me,” now it was time for him to scoff, “you’re the one that thought I was sleeping with multiple women while I’m actively pursuing you, you idiot.” 

“Don’t call me an idiot,” you huffed and faced the front of the car, crossing your arms after putting on your seatbelt. 

Bucky laughed as he reached over and turned your face so you’d look at him, “that’s what you took from that statement?” He giggled, “babe, I just said I was pursuing you, does that just fly over your head?” 

“Wait, what?” you grew more interested, “you want to date me?” 

Bucky nodded, “have I not made it obvious?” You just shrugged and began to feel small, curling yourself further into the seat of his car, “I would like to take you out and I would like to continue to collect little pieces of you at my place while doing the same to yours, does that make sense?” 

“Then what were those condoms for?” 

“The same reason our house keeps tampons in our main bathroom,” Bucky put the car in drive and began working towards to coffee shop, “if you ever need a tampon you go and grab one, if Steve ever needs a condom and he’s out of stock in his room he comes to me,” Bucky looked at you at the stop light. 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

“But let me get a few things straight,” Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, “I’m not sleeping with other girls, I do not have a secret girlfriend, I am not mad you left your bra in my dresser and I tried to make the text seem flirty, and finally,” he went at the green, “I really like you and I would like you to be my girl whenever we get there.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’d like that too.” 

“Then it’s settled,” it was a short drive to the cafe, “let’s celebrate over coffee, shall we?” 

You looked down at his hand on your thigh, “yeah, we shall.” 

********

Your body felt like it was floating, your legs tingled and it was hard to catch your breath. As you laid on your back with your hands on your bare stomach Bucky worked his way back up from between your legs while leaving kisses on your hip bones as well as your stomach when you lifted your hands. 

“How was that?” Bucky asked breathlessly, licking his lips before kissing you. 

You kept your answer waiting, probably because he knew it already, kissing him slowly as he wanted. He was fully in control right now, setting the pace and tone of this entire afternoon. When he pulled away for a moment you complimented him like always, your hands reached up to his shoulders and tried to push him to lay on his back but he stayed strong. 

“Flip over,” you whispered and ran your hands down his chiseled stomach, working your way up to his shoulders as your fingernails raked up his back. 

“I’m all good,” he shrugged. 

“But you’re painfully hard,” you tried again to get him to move but he just fell beside you on his stomach, not allowing you to touch him where he was in fact, extremely hard. “Come on, you always do this.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled and pulled you down with him. 

“I just want to do something nice for you, you never let me do anything for you or give you any favours,” in your head it seemed like a normal observation, it was true that Bucky didn’t let anyone do anything for him while he actively tried to help everyone in anyway he knew how. 

That seemingly struck a nerve, “alright then,” he sighed and got up from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he left you naked and alone on his bed, the most lonesome feelings in the world. 

“Where are you going?” you sat up, grabbing your shirt from the edge of the bed. 

“Going to go jerk off in the shower,” he said as he closed the door. 

“You can’t be serious,” you quickly stood and made your way to the bathroom that was connected to his room. You opened the door to see him already adjusting the tap before starting the shower. “Bucky, it’s the truth, it’s who you are but it’s the truth and as your girlfriend I want you to feel good, I want to give you pleasure like you do to me.” 

You reached forward and placed your hands on his back, slowly working your way to his shoulders so you could turn him around. There looked like shame had overtaken him as he stood before you, though he was larger in size he shrunk himself down to look small. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, he didn’t know what to say. 

“If I can’t give you head then can I come in the shower and wash your hair?” you didn’t even put on the shirt you grabbed, it was dropped to the floor. “Come on, honey, it’ll feel so good.” 

Bucky only nodded before stepping into the hot shower with you. You made sure he got most of the stream on him, you stayed in front and made sure his hair was soaked before getting any product. You could see his tenseness at first but the moment your hands made contact with his scalp his eyes rolled back, his shoulders relaxed. In that moment it occurred to you that you had actually never seen his relaxed state before. 

“Doesn’t this feel good?” you whispered, making sure you used your nails to really cleanse his scalp. “Doesn’t letting yourself relax and breathe feel so good, Buck?” 

“Yeah,” it came out quiet and broken. 

Your eyes were focused on his hair the entire time, making sure you lathered up and took your time. You needed to savor this moment for both you and Bucky, you wanted him to be relaxed for a s long as possible as well as taking advantage of doing him a favour; never knowing when your next opportunity would come up. 

Gently tapped his forehead, you got him to lean back. The water immediately took off the top layer of suds but you needed to rub out the deeper layers as well. Your fingers scrubbed until the trail of water rolling down his body was pure water and had no shampoo in it. 

“I’m going to- oh, my gosh Bucky,” you reached out and saw his red eyes, “when did you start crying?” 

“I can’t remember,” he whispered and tilted his head down, the water pushed his hair to cover his eyes. 

You pushed his hair back and pulled him out a step further so the water hit his back, your thumbs quickly wiped away a mixture of water and tears off of his face. He couldn’t stop crying as you tried your best to keep his face clear, “honey, what’s wrong?” 

“I-” he choked on his own words, “I’ve never let my guard down this much,” he admitted before breaking off into harder sobs, you swooped in and pulled him tightly against your chest. 

“I know it’s a new feeling,” you whispered, “but I want you to be able to do this all the time, let your guard down around me,” it was a shot in the dark by saying this but you did it anyways, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll never take advantage of your guard down, love.” 

It must have struck something because his knees buckled, his hands gripped tighter as he desperately kept you close to him. You didn’t know if you were making him feel better or worse but the act of letting go was needed for him, you kept holding him until there was nothing left to cry. 

When he pulled away he stayed close, close enough that you kissed him under the gentle rain of the shower and played with his hair at the base of his scalp. His hands stayed on your back and held you close to him, making sure you were always touching him in some way. You tried to get a good read on him but he kept his head low and gently ran his hands up and down your sides, just feeling you. 

“You’re very safe,” you whispered. 

Bucky looked up at you for a moment before keeping his eyes down for a while, his brows pulled together and it seemed like he was trying to say something but didn’t know how. Both of you were open and vulnerable, naked in the hot shower. Tears threatened to spill over at the picture of Bucky crying in front of you. 

“It was my mom,” Bucky whispered, “the one who broke me-”

“You’re not broken,” you quickly corrected, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb, “don’t say that.” 

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m the oldest, I have four sisters younger than me - all different dads.” Bucky took a deep breath and pulled you closer, “my mom…Winnie was an interesting woman who never wanted to be pregnant but somehow always ended up pregnant anyways, it also didn’t help none of the guys wanted to stick around.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him the easy opportunity to hug you if he needed to. Nodding along, you encouraged him to keep going. 

“When my mom realized I could do the dirty work she would take advantage of that. I basically raised my sisters and somehow she managed to worm into my head,” he let out an angry laugh, “she’d say she loved me if I did things for her and I was a bad boy if I couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, she would say I didn’t love her if I didn’t change my sister’s diapers or bathe them while she sat on the couch.” 

“Bucky,” you were the one to instigate the hug, “that’s awful.” 

“And I’m aware of how I act now, all I’ve ever known is helping other people to make sure they love me,” he laughed again, “and it sounds stupid but I can never break out of the cycle, I always think I’m doing a good job or not being overbearing but then I start to second guess myself, you know?” he pulled away and looked at you, you quickly nodded. “I start to think about what people are saying behind my back and so I keep doing what I’m doing to stay on the safe side, I know it’s fucking annoying but I can’t help it.” 

“It’s not annoying, baby” you leaned past him and turned off the water as it grew cold, “and if you’ll let me I can help with that, I don’t want to fix you or change you, I just want you to be comfortable in this relationship and not think I’m secretly mad at you because you didn’t get me a glass of water.” 

Bucky nodded, stepped out of the shower with you and grabbed two towels. The conversation had naturally ended, Bucky didn’t have anything else to say. It was hard not to think he was overthinking again, the idea that you were causing him to stress out stressed you out. You were being truthful when you said you wanted him to be relaxed in this relationship, the last thing you wanted was underlying tension. 

Back in bed Bucky rolled over and cuddled into your breasts, holding you closely as you watched his head rise with your breath. You had no idea if he was asleep or not, you knew he wouldn’t mind either way if you played with his hair. 

“Thank you,” was all he whispered before falling asleep. 

********

You all sat around the couch to watch another big game. Though you had no idea what was going on you were just as into it as Steve. Half time had just started and you all took a collective breath, the two college teams were close. 

“Want another beer?” you asked as you stood up, looking at Bucky who was sitting on the couch. Steve and Nat had already filled up, you wanted another cooler and Bucky was almost done. 

“Yeah,” he quickly downed his final sip of beer before handing the bottle off to you. 

There was this anticipation in the room, you smiled and took the bottle and walked past Steve who was already looking at Bucky. The room seemed still when Bucky didn’t move, just pulling out his phone to look at something while the commercials played. Before making it into the kitchen you looked over your shoulder and saw the back of Bucky’s head, you bit your lip to suppress the smile that was growing. 

The moment you got back and sat next to him Bucky took your hand and pulled it into his lap. He fidgeted with your finger before looking over at you, “how’d I do?” he whispered. 

You laughed and leaned into his side, “how much did that make your cringe?” 

“I was in pain for a moment,” he answered as fast as possible before giggling with you as you clink your glasses together and take a long swing. With a deep breath he looked back at the game and kept your hand in his. Bucky must have not been paying attention but his phone buzzed, illuminating and accidentally showing his lockscreen. 

It changed from the photo of the two of you to a black background with white writing on it: 

Trust me, she’s not mad at you.

********

Thanks for reading, feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!

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[mamashenanigans]

When my head isn’t filled with “keephishandkeephishandkeephishand” on a loop, I actually think about more stuff from 407.

Someone on X pointed this out, but how wittle baby boy Yoichi is shown here…

Makes it seem like the people that AFO just killed had maybe beat him up. Of course, AFO is taking their metapowers away too, but it’s an interesting catch. And, yes, Yoichi is wearing fitted clothes while AFO walks around with something just wrapped around him.

You know how Yoichi still believed there was good in his brother because of the kindness of his “hand”?

Well, in case you missed it…

They were born apart with their hands already reaching out to each other. They are on their backs right now, so those are the same hands that are holding/being held.

This means…

AFO grabbed Yoichi and dragged him with him. What you’re seeing in that top panel is the water starting to overflow the river and rush past. AFO pulled Yoichi out of the water and on to their mother. He is also using the spike quirk for teeth and on his hand to grab onto their mother and pull them up. The bottom left panel is him biting into her dress as he pulls them out of the danger of the water. Yes, AFO saved Yoichi when they were fucking newborns. THIS is what Yoichi has a faint memory of. That was the kindness.

I know some people have been wondering if they’re fraternal or identical. This seems to suggest that they are in fact sharing the same umbilical cord. It’s rare for fraternal twins to have this. It’s crazy to think that Yoichi may have looked just like AFO if he had the same amount of nutrients. But I digress…

A very notable thing about AFO’s eyes: they are huge and creepy in feral/survivor mode. We’ve seen his eyes get like this as AFOTomura and when he goes into rage mode against All Might and now Bakugo.

Here, he is quite literally just walking down the street past the anti-meta people and presumably just heard them talk about killing metas. Once they take notice of him, he turns his head towards them and his eyes are huge like a startled animal.

He then proceeds to kill them and still has that feral look.

But now let me get to something pretty important…

We don’t see AFO actually smile until this panel

Once he has a dream of everyone living for his sake, like Yoichi, he is finally smiling. And continues to do so after this point.

Something really bothering me is that they must have named themselves including their surname. Shigaraki means “death tree” which fits in nicely as they were born “from death”. However, where did Yoichi get his name? AFO must have named him and Yoichi can mean “first gift”. So he named him that because Yoichi was QUITE LITERALLY the first thing AFO ever had. As for AFO…I don’t know if he would take the time to name himself. Yoichi only calls him big brother so he may have told Yoichi to just keep calling him that then decided to name himself after the Quirk he also named himself: All for One. Dude is really committed to the bit.

There’s one more thing I haven’t seen anyone touch on yet…

The hatred.

As you probably recall, Hawks has a talk with Best Jeanist over AFO’s lack of emotions and lack of hate. Why he has to use Tomura to get OFA.

406 explained why that is perfectly.

When he feels hatred, he is forced to remember WHEN HE WAS TOLD HE KILLED HIS BROTHER HOLY SHIT. It would also be possibly the first and only time he ever cried. Felt real grief. So, he never “feels” REAL hatred because that would mean having to confront this memory.

It’s fucking genius.

You’’re welcome.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

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It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

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Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

[huiyi07]

hey so do you guys ever think about how often Diluc is referred to as the ‘uncrowned king of Mondstadt’ since he’s like the only male heir to the noble families and like it or not, where Jean is the authority of the nation, he’s pretty much the symbolic face of Mondstadt and the values the nation projects— and despite his temperament, Diluc has learned to embrace it wholeheartedly. He’s charismatic, extremely righteous, and he blazes bright and gives the people of Mondstadt a fire that guides them in the dark, quite literally. Like he’s literally Bruce Wayne lmao

But he doesn’t want this, no, and here’s the proof- maybe he did, once upon a time, before everything happened— but he doesn’t really care about wine, he only cares about the winery because of the people in it and his father. He’s righteous but doesn’t give a damn about the rules and the knights of favonius. After what happened to him, he’s clearly a rebel at heart now, not some charming superhero who does everything expected of him, unlike before. In summary, Diluc was someone who was quite literally ready to become an (uncrowned) prince, pretty much royalty in every way except title- and on surface level, he still is, but he throws that mantle away in secret whenever he can.

And then look at Kaeya, his brother who’s always lived in his shadow. It’s easy to see that now, people don’t really project Mondstadt’s values onto Kaeya the same way they do onto Diluc, since lots of people hardly even remember that they’re brothers. And yeah people still think kaeya is reliable and nice, but also because of how Kaeya built his image after Diluc left— an excessively over the top personality that pretends to be sadistic, mean, and at the same time dripping with false charm. So despite that people still find him approachable and nice as expected of a knight, hardly anyone would call him befitting of a prince.

But Kaeya is actually so painfully and authentically ‘princely’ and kind, deep down— the way he deals with children, his fierce loyalty and willingness to protect people at all costs, his self sacrificial tendencies that most often appear for Diluc’s sake. Even the tidbits of lore we get about him scream aristocracy- his ‘ceremonial’ bladework, Alberich family secrets that reveal just how central they are to the kingdom of khaenriah. This is kinda obvious to any player who’s bothered to learn anything about kaeya, but to the characters in game, there are very few that know that side of him.

And whereas Diluc is forcibly projected the title of royalty and secretly rejects it, Kaeya was actually born into it- his family is very important to Khaenriah, and much like how he does with anything related to his past and heritage, he loudly and outwardly rejects anything to do with ‘royalty’. Diluc outwardly rejects what Kaeya shows (a darker, more ‘means justify the end’ nature), and Kaeya tries to hide what Diluc projects (a sophisticated and aristocratic upbringing).

Honestly? It’s as if they were swapped at birth. Kaeya’s real hidden nature, even after everything that happened to him, remains to be so unwavering and people-oriented, while Diluc’s true personality changed drastically over time. Not that Diluc isn’t unwavering or whatever, but Diluc mostly actively rejects relationships and prefers to do everything alone, obsessed with the idea that he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, whereas Kaeya always, always yearns for companionship and for people to be by his side- solidarity.

Diluc is the poster image of royalty, but his brother who hides in the shadows is a real king. They complete each other, balance each other out, represent the parts that the other hides. I don’t know if hoyoverse always meant them to be that way, but damn they basically represent each other’s parts of themselves that they lost. Yin and Yang, two halves of the same whole.

[thecreelhouse]

I love the way you decorate my heart ♡

Paring: Steve Harrington x chronically ill!Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: A medical mishap leads to you and Steve spending the holiday in the hospital, and discovering maybe you’re more alike than you once believed. || this is for the twelve days of promptmas! day twelve: spending christmas/christmas eve in the ER

WC: 4k+

Includes/CW: angst, hurt/comfort, idiots to lovers, misunderstandings, chronic illness (left vague to be more inclusive), some symptoms are mentioned (syncope, temp. intolerance, fatigue), language, special appearances by some pals, pathetic pining, the rest is fluff and silliness!

A/N: hi! I left the details, aside from some symptoms, of the chronic illness reader has vague so more folks might be able to relate. Thanks @littlexdeaths for the fun lil holiday prompts! I’m so stoked I was able to come up with something last minute lol. Hope y’all enjoy if you read this one <3 title is from glittery - kacey musgraves & dividers are from @strangergraphics!

Waking up from a syncope episode isn’t the same as waking up in the morning.

Your limbs feel heavy, body tingling on pins and needles all over, and you only wake up more exhausted; you’re used to it by now.

What you’re not used to, is waking up next to—

“St- Steve?” You groggily rub your eyes, feeling a slight tug in your hand.; blinking a few times to focus, you notice the IV needle attached to it.

Ah, shit.

“Hm…?” Steve, crumpled in a heap on a nearby chair, begins to stir. His legs are hung over the arm of the chair, using a balled up gown under his head as a makeshift pillow, resting on the other arm. “S’goin’ on?”

“Um,” You’re coming to, more alert as the seconds pass. “You tell me?”

He blinks sleepily, sporting a disheveled, bed head, without the bed. Stretching his arms over his head, his shirt rides up enough to see his tummy, makes a soft noise that builds into a yawn; instinctively, you stare, wondering what it’s like to actually wake up next to him. It’s cute. He’s cute. You hate him for that.

You hate him for a lot of things— so why the fuck is he here?

More importantly, why are you?

Reality catches up to Steve, and he fumbles trying to adjust himself in the chair, wobbling it a bit as he swings his legs back to the floor. “I shoulda’ just gave myself a concussion or something to get a bed too.”

You quirk a brow, “Don’t ya’ have a few racked up already?”

He grunts, waving the concern away with his hand. With a gravelly voice, still in a daze, he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

Now you’re scrunching your brows together, confused. “I’m sorry, am I dead right now?”

Steve snorts, “Huh? No, you’re not. Thought you were for a second, though. It was—“ He pauses, dragging his chair closer to the bed. Muscle memory forces you to scowl and scoot back on the bed, keeping the distance. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t— that’s— I should’ve asked first.”

You’re lost, not totally lost, but still lost enough. 

“… S’okay, I guess.”

He still pushes the chair back a few inches, but he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. Your eyes meet his, filled with concern. It fills you with shame— why?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door, then back to you; it’s a genuine question, not one out of malice or anger. “The whole… you fainting, thing, I mean.”

“Didn’t think it was important.” That’s only partially the truth. Why worry anyone when you have it under control? 

Well, you had it under control, until today.

You see the right doctors— though, god, did that take for-fucking-ever— you’re finally on the right meds, after trial and error, time and time again.

“You didn’t think it was— I’m sorry, but that’s pretty important to people who give a shit about you.” He scoffs, sinking in his chair. “One minute, you’re running around in the snow with the kids, the next, you’re on the ground, out cold. That’s not important?”

“Not to you, it isn’t.” Regret instantly swallows you whole, dragging you down further at the look of offense flashing across Steve’s face. He shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket, averting his eyes to the window with a heavy sigh.

“Not true, but that— that’s not my concern right now.” His voice cracks a bit— is he genuinely bothered by this? It’s not like it’s breaking news; the two of you have never seen eye to eye, barely getting along for the party’s sake.

It was just a difference of personalities and backgrounds that kept a permanent gap between the two of you. Which, of course, only made less sense once Steve and Eddie became friends. 

In fact, you know Steve isn’t one to flaunt the life and wealth he was born into, at least, not anymore. He hates it, hates how people see him because of it, but you can’t see him any other way. He’s long distanced himself from the ‘King Steve’ persona, hardly forgiving himself for it, even years later. You always thought he began to care for everyone but himself first to absolve himself of any past guilt— that turned out to be wrong; he’s the first one to offer rides for the kids, whether to hang out with one another, or take Max to physical therapy, and even allowing Dustin to use his car to practice driving (despite how stressed out he is as a passenger).

Since his home is usually empty, Steve’s gotten used to everyone just walking in, or staying over, like they live there; you might be the only one who still awkwardly rings the doorbell before movie nights with the party. Gatherings usually happen at his place, because he has the room for everyone to hang out comfortably. The pool is just a bonus on the hottest days of the summer.

And Steve looks happier, despite all the inner turmoil regarding his past, and the sea of trauma he’s fighting to stay afloat in. It must be nice to fill a house with the people you love, who love you in return, and don’t just use you for shitty parties and a well-stocked liquor cabinet. 

You still can’t help but resent him for the life he was born into, though, but you try to keep the specifics to yourself, for the sake of everyone else. Everything handed to him, everything that came easy his way, you had the opposite.

The unknowingly ableist, backhanded comments never helped, either. Steve probably had no idea, but any time you needed a break from exerting any energy, he’d make little jabs about how you couldn’t keep up.

“Why didn’t you take your medication?”

His question clears the fog of your overwhelming thoughts away, leading you back into the present.

Brows furrowing, you scoff a laugh, confused. “Wh— I did.”

“You didn’t,” He states firmly.

“How do you know?”

“From the bloodwork they ran.”

Something warm blooms in your chest, hearing how invested he is in your well being, but the ice in your heart quickly freezes it all over.

“Why the hell do you have access to that shit?”

Steve presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, groaning in frustration. “I don’t, but the doctor asked us all while you were out, and none of us even knew what to say.” His hands fall away, but he starts talking with them in frantic motions. “Then that sent the kids into a panic, and Dustin— you know how he gets— starts asking if you’re dying, then the others started to shout thousands of questions at the doctor, demanding explanations, but that’s where it stopped, I promise.”

“Oh.” You sink against your pillows, the weight of remorse heavy on your heart. “I just— okay, I’m not dying, so let’s get that off the table.”

You don’t miss the way Steve’s shoulders relax, wondering why he’s tense over this.

“But… ?”

“It feels like it, sometimes.” Shrugging, you hope he stops asking questions. “I’m fine, I think my body just grew a tolerance for my medication, and I keep pushing off calling my doctor.” He doesn’t need to, not yet, when you’re beginning to word vomit everywhere. “‘Cause that shit is expensive, and I don’t want to drop that kind of money on a visit that they’ll only say ‘hey, your meds aren’t working, so let’s try something new’, as if I didn’t know already. Then it’s the whole process of trial and error, and getting used to side effects, weighing out the pros and cons of sticking with one kind, or starting all over to find something else that might work, but who knows.

“I probably forgot to take them, ‘cause honestly, what’s the point if it’s not helping?” You bring your knees to your chest, resting your head on them with a huff. “But I guess they were still helping somewhat, so I fucked up.” You tilt your face away from him, staring out the window at the glum, grey sky, wishing it’d bring some snow, at least. “It gets so old being sick all the time, watching everyone else have fun, live their lives, while I have to be cautious in how I live, but I can’t really afford that, either.”

Steve doesn’t respond, nor do you expect him to after unloading all of that frustration and grief. You turn to him to find himself pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut.

“Sorry for all of th—“

He jolts up, shaking his head wildly, hands in tandem. “Don’t apologize, this shit’s out of your control. I just— I’ve said some… really stupid stuff to you, and I had no right to.” He locks eyes with you, stare glassy and full of regret. “All the times I made comments about you sitting stuff out, or being boring— that— it was fucked up, even if I didn’t know. If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me.”

Hugging your legs tighter, you’re conflicted.

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself to prove anything, or try to— I don’t know— look, I wish I knew, but even if you didn’t have a- this— um, condition,” He clears his throat, nervous to use the wrong terminology. “It wouldn’t be my business to ask why you’re taking time for yourself.” 

Cautiously, he brings his chair a tad closer, sliding it across the floor. This time, you don’t move away, but your hand twitches in surprise when he reaches out, fingers brushing against your own. He doesn’t push it. “I really am sorry, and you don’t have to accept that, but it’s not right letting this shit go without apologizing to you.”

Over time, you’ve grown to read people pretty easily, especially in moments of vulnerability like this— you know he’s sincere, and you hate that. You hate it, and he said you don’t have to accept the apology, but you hate yourself for wanting to.

Fatigue overcomes your pride, and you whisper, “Thank you.” One last attempt at shielding yourself arises, yanking your hand away from his. “You don’t have to stick around, Steve.” Plucking loose threads from the scratchy hospital blanket, you feel your emotions come undone in time with them. “M’not sure if it’s out of guilt, or you trying to do one last good deed for the year, but I’m not a charity case.”

Steve doesn’t chase you, gives you physical space, but softly counters, “You’re not a charity case, I’d never think that about you. I just didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up.”

Guilt just seems to consistently flow back and forth between the two of you, filling the room with nothing but. 

Crossing your legs under the blanket, you relax a little, still fidgeting with the blanket’s threads.

“That’s… thank you, Steve. That’s really nice of you, but I don’t wanna take you away from any plans you have for Christmas Eve.”

He snorts softly with a loose eye roll. “Yeah, right. You’ve seen how empty my place is without you guys. My parents went on some cruise, or some shit.” His smile fades, earnestly adding, “I’ll leave if you want, but no one should have to be alone during the holidays without a choice, at least.”

 I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him— for… being a decent human being.

What the hell’s my problem?

A smirk tugs at one corner of your lips, visible enough for Steve to notice. “I think it’s you who doesn’t wanna be alone for Christmas Eve.”

Playfully, he rolls his eyes again. “What gave you that impression?”

“The kids aren’t up your ass tonight?” Little by little, you can feel the tension fizzle out. It’s slow, but it’s better than nothing.  

“Nah, when I told ‘em I’d stay, Eddie offered to drive them home, since they all had plans.” Though the tension is on its way out, you notice Steve biting his lip,  like he’s holding himself back from saying something.. He opens his mouth to speak, but hesitates, choosing his words with caution. “You scared the hell outta us. Before you collapsed, you looked over at me— and I don’t think you meant to—” He teases, trying to keep the conversation easy for both sides. “But you started to say ‘I’m gonna pass out’ and did, mid-sentence. The kids thought you were just being dramatic, but I… I’ve seen that look before… usually it’s never good.”

This was what you wanted to avoid the entire time.

“I should’ve been upfront from the start, but I didn’t wanna worry anyone. There’s so many triggers, and the cold’s one of ‘em.” He frowns with a knowing look. “It’s hard talking about it, ‘cause most people try to coddle me once they find out. I want to be understood when I need to take care of myself, especially with flare ups, not treated like some fragile doll.”

“You’re anything but fragile, let’s be real here,” He teases, earning an eye roll-chuckle combination. “Seriously! I thought the snowball you hurled at me was gonna be the big concussion to do me in for good.”

It’s a lighthearted comment, but it’s enough to make your heart ache.

“Is it really that bad?” You ask in a whisper. He shrugs lazily, like it’s no problem at all.

“Maybe not that bad, but I get migraines pretty often now, and chronic pain, just kinda… everywhere,” He admits, shoving his hands back in the front pocket of his hoodie. “Some days are harder than others, too. Makes sense for all the shit we went through, though.”

A mirthless laugh slips out. “They don’t even know where I got mine.” Contemplating, he purses his lips, looking down to the floor. “You okay?”

“I don’t think we’re as different as you believe,” Steve dares to observe. “Sure, we’re different in a lot of ways, and I don’t know your pain exactly, but you’re not alone. We’re both on the same plane.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Same boat, you mean?”

 “Eh,” He grins lazily at you, “Same thing.”

He’s right, about your differences— and you don’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

“Oh, shit, hang on—“ Steve jumps out of his chair, startling you. “— I forgot the nurses wanted to know when you woke up. Fuck.” What startles you even more is the way he leans down to kiss the top of your head. It’s fleeting, without thought, only reacting on buried feelings. He doesn’t even realize it until he reaches the door, frozen mid-step.

Heat rises to bloom across your face, emotions rolling through you without mercy as your heart thumps through your chest.

“Um, sorry, I- I’ll be—“ Steve clears his throat, terrified to turn back to you, slipping out the door, “—yeah.”

Weirdest Christmas yet.

The nurses come and go, checking your vitals and asking basic questions, informing you that you’re staying the night, maybe even tomorrow night, too— which, you figured; this isn’t your first hospital rodeo.

Steve, however, doesn’t come back, and it leaves you perplexed. And weirdly enough… bummed out?

If he left out of embarrassment, though, you don’t blame him.

Snow’s finally falling in fluffy handfuls, so that gives you a good distraction. However, it doesn’t last long when the door creaks open. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to see Steve, but you don’t.

Not alone, that is.

It’s Steve, and Eddie, Robin, and Dustin, sneaking into your room well past visiting hours, snickering as they accomplish their mission. Eddie’s decked out in a Santa costume, hair from each side of his head clipped under his chin for a makeshift beard. He’s got a sack— a garbage bag— over his shoulder, with a wide grin slapped on his face. Dustin and Robin have matching elf hats, and you’re shocked to see Steve does, too.

Your face lights up at the sight of more friends, pulling a smile out of Steve, too.

“How’d you get in?!” 

“Okay, so, I lied and said we were going to the children’s ward, to bring gifts for the holiday—“

“Eddie!”

“What? We’ll say we got lost, or something.” He shrugs, plopping the bag onto the chair Steve slept in. Rummaging around, he adds, “Besides, I grabbed a few old Happy Meal toys I had still lying around, so I’ll just… leave those on the desk upstairs, or something.”

Robin rolls her eyes with a huff, then grinning your way. “We heard you’re stuck here tonight, so we thought we should bring Christmas to you!”

“But you gotta close your eyes!” Dustin rushes out, and when you don’t immediately do so, he scolds you, “Close ‘em!”

“Jesus, Dustin, you’re too mean to be an elf.” Steve grumbles, making his way over to you. He leans down to your ear, whispering, “Okay, but really, close your eyes.” You do, ignoring how nervous the close proximity is making you.

A minute passes while noises surround you of giggling, cursing, scolding at one another, and some you can’t decode.

“Can I open—“

“Nope,” Steve’s hand covers your eyes, but he freezes. “Shit, I’m sorry, I keep doing that—“ He’s about to pull his hand away when you grip his wrist, keeping it in place with a sly smile. He’s grateful you can’t see how hard he’s blushing.

“Oh my god, Steve, you’re the worst elf in the world,” Dustin chides. “What happened to helping?”

“This is helping! I’m making sure they don’t peek!”

“Santa’s gotta do all the work around here, huh?” Eddie gripes. The banter fuels your giggles, while the warmth of Steve’s hand weirdly feels comforting. It ends far too soon, though. “Okay, okay, you can open ‘em.”

His hand falls away as your eyes pop open, taking in the sight around you.

Gone are the bleak, fluorescent lights, turned off and replaced by strung Christmas lights— some warm, others colorful. Illuminated on the dresser is a vintage, ceramic Christmas tree, with the tiny plastic bulbs. There’s tinsel everywhere— oh boy— with random holiday knick-knacks on every surface available, probably lovingly borrowed from everyone’s homes. Candy canes are hooked on anything they can hang from, and bows are stuck everywhere, too.

It’s as if the spirit of Christmas threw up all over the damn place.

This is probably breaking so many rules, but that doesn’t matter right now. 

“We had window clings too, but that’d block the view of the snow, so,” Robin flip-flops her hand, waving away the thought.

Tears well in your eyes, adding a soft, bleary glow to the twinkling lights around you. Soft laughter laced with pure joy is all you can respond with.

“We gotta go before someone finds us, but real quick—“ Dustin sets a poorly wrapped present on your bed— it’s large, and lumpy, wrapped with three kinds of paper. “This is from all of us, and the others.”

Eagerly, you tear into the paper, finding a soft, plush blanket, one in your favorite color, and it’s so warm. While you squish the fabric to your face, humming happily, Steve clears his throat, grabbing your attention. He holds up a remote, and your brows knit together.

“And the best part— it’s heated.”

“‘Cause you’re always so cold!” Dustin exclaims, as if that’s something to be happy about, but the sentiment has heart.

“Don’t worry, we checked and it can reach that one outlet near the loveseat you always take when we’re at Steve’s.” Robin reassures with the observation.

“And it’s that fabric that doesn’t make ya’ all blegh’ed out.” Eddie adds; he’s right, it’s actually not a sensory nightmare, but buttery soft instead.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dustin snorts.

The effort, the love and care put into this wholesome mischief, the tiny observations about your personality that even you don’t give much thought to— it warms your heart and brings tears to your eyes.

“I- I don’t know what to say… thank you doesn’t seem like enough, but… this might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” You hug the blanket to your chest happily. “Wait, what am I doing—“ You drop the blanket on your lap, throwing your arms open, “Y’all, get over here!”

One by one each friend adds to the hug while you murmur, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  They squeeze you tight— a respectable amount, nothing to hurt you further, of course.

“Feel better, we’ll all hang out when you’re home!” Robin pinches your cheek, and you swat her hand away playfully. Dustin fist bumps you, expressing well wishes, too, adding, “Glad you’re not dying!”

Steve hisses, “Oh my god, Dustin—“

“I’m going, I’m going!”

Eddie’s the last to leave, garbage bag over his shoulder again, ruffling your hair lightly. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

“Eddie, I’m your age, you dork.”

“Not while I’m Santa!” He waves, then salutes to Steve on his way out, who shakes his head, chuckling.

The excitement dies down once it’s only you and Steve left, but the air of holiday cheer lingers, as does the awkward energy from the unexplained kiss. Steve tosses his elf hat aside, sitting on the edge of your bed when you pout.

“Aw, man,” You pout. “You looked good with that hat.”

“Don’t— I can’t tell if you’re joking or not—“ He blushes, kicking one foot across the floor while keeping his eyes fixated down. “Hope all of that was okay. I know it’s not as good as Christmas at home—“

“Steve, are you kidding me? I meant it when I said this is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me. Best Christmas in a long time, honestly.” Your hand reaches out to rest on his arm, a move of reassurance, but it sends warmth through you. Judging off the red shade deepening on Steve’s face, you assume he’s feeling something, too. “But I gotta ask... Why’d you kiss me?”

“Oh— that?” His free arm reaches behind his back hand rubbing the back of his head as he shyly smiles. “It— I— that was— I didn’t think, I’m sorry. It just felt… normal? Like in the moment— I don’t know how else to explain it. And sorry I left like that, I wanted to call Robin while I had the chance, and wait to sneak them in—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” You assure him softly, throwing the blanket over yourself. “You wanna try this out with me?”

Steve glances around, then points to himself, like a total goof. “Me?”

“Oh, no, I was asking the elf hat— yes, you.”

“Um… you sure? The bed’s kinda small for the both of us.”

You shrug, handing over the plug to the blanket’s remote, “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t cool with it.”

Steve studies your face, expecting you to falter, but you don’t. He plugs the blanket in, cautiously sliding in next to you. Once he’s all settled next to you, uncomfortably trying to give you space, he asks, “What changed so suddenly?”

Taking a risk, your arm slides over his torso to hook around his back, tugging him closer. “This okay?” He nods eagerly. “I thought you were different, in a bad way. I don’t know why it took a hospital trip to realize we’re on the same page, even if our lives are practically opposite, but it did.” 

He gives in, relaxing against you while enveloping you in his embrace, too. 

“I always thought you were cute, by the way,” You mutter into his sweatshirt-clad shoulder. 

“Huh?”

“Yeah, but I… man, I don’t fucking know. I’ve been dumb, when I could’ve had a friend who gets it.”

“I could’ve been nicer, so… it isn’t all you. But we could start over.” He glances down to catch the dopey, exhausted smile you’re giving him, “This is exactly why I made sure we found a blanket that shuts off automatically. I knew you’d immediately get sleepy.”

Another detail you never expected him, or anyone, to notice. A powerful duo of sleepiness and fatigue— two you’ve learned over the years are different from one another— crash over you like a wave, pulling you under. 

“Shit…” You mumble, cheek squished against him. “Wanted to watch the snow.”

“Only thing you’re gonna watch is the inside of your eyelids at this point,” Steve teases, fingers wandering to brush along your face, blushing as you hum, nudging your face into his touch. “‘M’glad you’re okay.”

Your silence makes Steve wonder if you fell asleep, until you lean in, leaving a kiss on his cheek, while half-awake.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

When you curl up into him, he kisses the top of your head— intentionally, this time— and is left confused as you drift off, but content.

It’s not like the mistletoe he had stashed away behind the bed would help the confusion, but that can wait until tomorrow. All he knows for certain is, this is his best Christmas yet, too.

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

[dilfsfordinner]

Escarmiento- Miguel O’hara x fem!spider reader

a/n- spoiler warning for atsv!!! Some of the things in this I don’t agree with based off of my personal opinion for certain characters, but y/n, for story sake, agrees with Miles

warnings- eventual smut, predator/prey dynamics, spanking, edging, degradation, explicit language, size kink, biting, mean/rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, aftercare, soft miggy after he realizes he was an ass

—————————————————————————

“You’re an anomaly. You don’t belong here, you don’t even belong in your universe. Everything you’ve done…”

The sound of your husband’s voice rang between your ears as you squeezed between the growing crowd, the dark blue and red of Miguel’s “lair” reflecting off the suits of the hundreds of spider people slowly congregating around the boy you knew as Miles Morales. For weeks, Miguel was infatuated with this Morales kid, infatuated with the idea of capturing him so that he could save everyone, so he could save you, as he loved to say.

Slowly but surely, you found yourself standing at the front, watching as the young boy was on the receiving end of a very familiar type of lecture. “-kid, you can’t have everything, you can’t save everyone. Spider-man makes sacrifices, that’s the way it has to be,” Miguel’s tone was strong, unwavering, as he told the kid the unfortunate truth of the situation.

Gwen, Peter, Hobie (who could not care less about the situation), Jess, and your husband all battered the kid with their takes, with their opinions on the situation and you could tell that he wasn’t having any of it. The others in the room also thought it their place to partake in this ping pong match of morals, their voices overstimulating even to your ears. It was obvious that Miles felt suffocated, lied to, attacked, and you couldn’t just sit back and watch.

“What if he’s right?”

…

The room went silent at your words, every single spider lensed eye turning to look at you as you stepped forward, a pair of scarlet eyes meeting your own, narrowing slightly. “What if nothing happens? I mean, how are any of us supposed to live if we stay trapped by the rules of the unknown?”

A sigh left the lips of the spider you knew all too well, his gloved hand running down his face as he turned to you. “We’re “trapped” by those rules for a reason. They’re the only thing holding everything together. You should know that more than anyone.”

Yes, you knew all too well what would happen if the canon was disrupted, being Miguel’s only pillar to trust and lean on for him to be vulnerable enough to share his story. That was one case though. One instance out of countless others that were possible.

With careful steps, you walked toward them until you were side by side with Miles, his wide eyes watching you literally take his side, the first out of hundreds to step up.

“Amor.. being bitten by that spider should’ve caused irrevocable damage in his universe, should it not have?” You questioned him, his strong arms crossing as he pondered the fact, “It wasn’t canon, so by your reasoning, all hell should’ve broken loose in his universe. But it didn’t. Miles may very well be an anomaly, but if he can commit non-canon acts without consequences, there’s nothing stopping us from letting him save his father.”

With a scoff, your husband’s hand turned to gesture the scenes projected behind him, the sight of universes crumbling, millions of lives wiped out due to one action. “This is why we can’t let him. If the kid is allowed to do whatever he wants, every single universe would end up in shambles because one little thread of reality was tugged loose.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but to some degree, you did agree with Miguel. You knew how important it was to uphold the rules of the multiverse, but there was just something different with Miles. You couldn’t help but think that this was different, that his case was truly unique.

“He’s staying. I don’t care about hypotheticals or any other possible outcomes-”

Using Miguel’s voice as a cover, as inconspicuous as possible, your gloved hand lightly tugged at Miles’ pinky, and when his eyes glanced at your still frame, you whispered under your breath, “Use your palms.” Miles’ eyebrows furrowed at your comment, his shoulders squaring as Miguel approached the both of you.

“-he’s not going anywhere until we know for sure that he’s not a threat.” Miguel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you away from the boy’s side as you watched him pull a red disk from the air behind him, casually throwing it at the boy’s feet, a red cage snapping up around the panicking kid.

Miguel was immediately battered with pleas to let him go, specifically by Gwen and Peter, as Miles yelled and slammed against his enclosure. Slipping away from the turmoil and shouting, you caught Miles’ gaze and nodded slightly, his eyes going wide at the realization of your words. His hands pressed against the red lining, a muttered sentence leaving his lips before the cage shattered and every single spider-person was thrown backwards by the sheer force. Everyone besides you of course, who was conveniently standing next to a freed Miles, your webbing attached to the floor the only anchor you had to prevent from flying back.

Scarlet eyes immediately snapped to you, your gaze full of guilt as Miles turned to sprint, your legs quickly following as the shout of your name boomed behind you, your eyes flitting back to find a rage-filled Miguel with hundreds of spiders at his heels, pursuing Miles, and unfortunately, you as well.

—————————————————————————

Part Two

[twst-drabbles]

Jamil 17

Summary: You and Jamil lay in his bed in his dorm room. While you’re very tired, you’re visibly not bothered by the social implications of being in the bed of another. Jamil, on the other hand, is a little too aware.

(I saw the birthday card and went “eh, why not?” and wrote this.)

Was this something common in your world? Where, out of nowhere, people will just casually ask their friends if they can sleep with them in their bed? Because that’s what you did to Jamil. You approached him, luckily out of earshot from anyone important, and asked that very question with zero shame.

“Hey Jamil? Mind if I sleep with you in your bed tonight?”

Jamil will admit, it took him a good five seconds for him to register the words. And, he will also admit that he banged his knee against the table he was cleaning. Hit it so hard actually that he curled up into a ball, and practically retreated into his hoodie because why would you ask that?! In broad daylight?!

But you know what’s the worst part about all this? Jamil actually got excited. Giddy even! When the hot flush flooding through his body finally settled, all that was left was this glowing feeling.

At the time, he thought that his charms have finally got to you. That all his efforts to be in your good graces have begun to bear fruit.

And so he said, “You know what? Yes, let’s do that. Setting aside the way you asked that, I think I can find it in my heart to forgive that.”

Past him’s an idiot. For all those times he thought himself above the hormonal college students, turns out Jamil was no better. He supposed it was only a matter of time before he was humbled.

And so here Jamil lays on his side of the bed, dressed in his best pajamas, surrounded by the best sheets and pillows he uses for special occasions, and you laying on your stomach, reading the next chapter for one of your classes.

You came in with a tired wave, bag at hand, and flopped over in his bed. And you’ve been in that pose since.

“So, this was what you meant.” Jamil said. Now that his judgment is clear again after an hour of doing nothing, he really should’ve known you didn’t mean anything special by what you asked. Shame on him for expecting an extra meaning to them.

“Hmm? Oh, was the way I asked weird?” You glanced towards him. Jamil recognizes that exhausted look weighing in your eyes. Perhaps, through the rose-tinted glasses, Jamil didn’t notice. Once again, shame on him. Jamil should suffocate himself with these pillows. “Sorry about that. I just really want one good night of sleep. Just one.”

The urge to hit himself with the pillows lessened. Jamil moved onto his stomach, and copied your position, propping his chin on the pile. “Is there something wrong with your bed?”

You put your phone down. “Weather’s getting hotter and I still don’t have a working air con. It gets so humid at night that I sweat through the night. Can barely get more than three hours of sleep at a time.”

…of course the headmage would neglect to give you something as simple as a stable heating and cooling. Leave it to him to ignore your problems while he goes off doing whatever else. Probably binge watching an old drama that’s not even any good.

“I can’t imagine it’s been easy to deal with. Though, I have to ask, why my bed? You have others that you’re closer to, don’t you?”

Others such as Ace and Deuce, but Jamil didn’t want to say their names. It’s childish but he doesn’t want to see if your eyes light up at their mere mention.

You stretched your spine and settled down. “Yeah I know other people, but–how do I say this–they’ll make it weird.”

Weird? Like how Jamil preparing everything from the lights, to the blankets and even stuffing his drawer with extra wipes just in case wasn’t weird? What?

“Wait, what you mean by weird?” Now Jamil’s worried. Did something happen for you to say that? Did someone do something to you?

You waved off his concern. “Well, see, originally I was just going to ask Rook since he doesn’t mind sharing spaces with anyone, but he’s also very into cuddling and I’m not in the mood for that.”

“That’s true, he’s very open about that kind of thin–wait you cuddled him before?” Since when?

“Cuddled him plenty of times. Rook gives the best hugs without trying to flirt with me. Anyways, Rook wasn’t an option, and neither are Ace and Deuce since there’s no room to spare. There was Leona but after that whole ordeal with Azul, I really don’t want to go back there. And as for asking Azul himself… I feel like he’d charge me for that. So, here I am.”

Oh. Well, when putting it like that, it does make sense doesn’t it? So long as you don’t figure out exactly what went through his head when you asked. He’ll just keep quiet about that.

Jamil sighed into his pillow. “While I want to ask why you didn’t ask Kalim, but I know him too well. A peaceful rest isn’t something he can give, not with the way he sleeps.”

You patted his shoulder and it took everything in Jamil to not jump out of his skin. “You get it. So, yeah, thanks Jamil, for not saying no. Honestly, I was ready to find an empty classroom and just sleeping in there.”

Jamil narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do that. You’ll get in trouble. Just sleep here for the time being. When I have time, I’ll see about pestering Crowley into getting everything in order.”

“You do too much for me, Jamil. Really.”

While things didn’t play out the way he wanted to, the warmth flooding in his chest has not once went away. If anything, from the sight of your smile, it threatened to overflow.

This is nice, that you trust him like this.

“…alright, this is still bothering me. How did you and Rook even start cuddling in the first place?”

And can he add himself onto that list of people you cuddle with?

“Hahaha, yeah that is strange, right? Alright, may as well tell you.”

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

early chaggie days being a bit unsettling, but still pretty sweet

Vaggie: “Hey Charlie? I’m back.”

Charlie: “VAGGIE OHMYGOSH THERE YOU ARE!!!! I was worried sick! What were you doing wandering hell alone?? You’re still hurt! And new here!!”

Vaggie: “I’m fine, it’s not like I’m bleeding-”    

Charlie: “I was WORRIED! It’s been hours- your note just said ‘gone out’ it didn’t say if you’d be back!”

Vaggie: “Why would anyone leave you a note like that if they weren’t coming back?”

Charlie: “I DON’T KNOW THE NOTE DIDN’T SAY THAT EITHER!!!!”

Vaggie: “Right, sorry. I’ll make sure the next one does. I’m sorry.”

Charlie: “That’s! Not-!”

Vaggie: “I’m sorry Charlie.”

Charlie: “No no you don’t have to be sorry- going out whenever you want is fine! Dangerous, when you’ve just lost and EYE and a LOT OF BLOOD and your back is still FUCKED UP and you have a pretty face covered in bandages that I couldn’t change this morning because you left- which is fine, that’s fine it’s FINE-”

Vaggie: “You really don’t have to keep-”

Charlie: “-it’s just we NEED to get you a phone! No more ‘don’t wanna be trouble’ bullshit- this is serious! What if you’d needed help? How fuck was I supposed to even find you!?”

Vaggie: “Follow the trail of screaming people and blood?”

Charlie: “Wha- what blood?”

Vaggie: “Shit.”

Charlie: “Your blood?? Did your back- But it’s been burned shut since day one! Did someone-”

Vaggie: “Charlie-”

Charlie: “WHO-”

Vaggie: “No one did anything, okay? Look, no blood. See?”

Charlie: “….then why did you say that?”

Vaggie: “I might’ve… kinda sorta stabbed a few people who got too close. Uh. Nothing fatal. But there was some blood and screaming…”

Charlie: “They SCARED you.”

Vaggie: “No they really didn’t, it was just instinct.”

Charlie: “And this is hell, Vaggie- at least half of them were at least TRYING to scare you!”

Vaggie: “Well it worked. It was fucking scary how close I came to killing a few of them without even noticing.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “I won’t go out again. I got what I needed, and I didn’t know you’d worry.”

Charlie: “Of course I worried…”

Vaggie: “You don’t have to. I’m just this month’s random dumbass sinner picked out of the rest of the trash and crashing on your couch, making you stress over dumb stuff. I’ll get out of your hair soon as the bandages come off.”

Charlie: “Don’t.”

Vaggie: “?”

Charlie: “Don’t, talk like that, about yourself. Please?”

Vaggie: “Like what?”

Charlie: “Like THAT.”

Vaggie: “I don’t even get what ‘that’ means. I only said what happened.”

Charlie: “I….. never mind.”

Vaggie: “Alright…”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “….what did you go out for anyway?”

Vaggie: “Spear.”

Charlie: “Spear? Like, spearmint gum or- OH!!”

Vaggie: “Just uh, just a spear.”

Charlie: “But isn’t that an Exorcist’s!? Vaggie- be carful! That’s one of the ONLY things that can-”

Vaggie: “-kill a sinner permanently, yeah, I know. Or gouge out their eye. Permanently.”

Charlie: “Oh.”

Vaggie: “I’ve seen them in action, I mean.”

Charlie: “And it doesn’t upset you?”

Vaggie: “It’s, complicated. Mainly it’s just, it’s a little reassuring to hold onto, you know?”

Charlie: “My hand is- I mean, sure, yes. That makes sense. I think.”

Vaggie: “…you can lock it up somewhere if you want, while I’m here. I don’t mind. This is your home-”

Charlie: “And yours. As long as you need it.”

Vaggie: “That’s, nice but-”

Charlie: “And while you’re here you should feel safe, and if the spear helps you feel safe around me, then okay. Good. You um, you didn’t sell anything super important to get it, right?”

Vaggie: “No, I found it behind a dumpster-”

Charlie: “Wow those are really pulling through on the amazing finds lately!”

Vaggie: “Charlie- huh?”

Charlie: “Good find! At the dumpster!”

Vaggie: “Charlie, it’s not for you. The spear. I didn’t get the spear because of you.”

Charlie: “I mean hell princess and stuff, first hellborn monster in all creation- totally understandable!”

Vaggie: “If you’re a monster then creation needs more of them.”

Charlie: “The carpet is still smoldering from me going all demon flames at you five minutes ago.”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Yeah, because you were worried.”

Charlie: “Still. Scary?”

Vaggie: “Adorable.”

Charlie: “….really?”

Vaggie: “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met, because you care, and you get angry when the rest of the world doesn’t care as much as you do. It’s really.” (pause) “It’s new. It’s really new, and I’m glad I got to see it.”

Charlie: “If you’re sure…”

Vaggie: “Yep. The horns and tail are cute, too.”

Charlie: “The- aww SHOOT! They’re still out? This whole time??”

Vaggie: “You didn’t notice grabbing my wrist with your tail?”

Charlie: “I WHAT??? IM SORRY OH FUCK OH SHIT IT- IT HAS A MIND OF IT’S OWN I SWEAR- FUCK WHY WON’t IT LET GO-”

Vaggie: “It’s fine. If it wants to cling then let it. I’d like to sit down though, so.”

Charlie: “Right! Sorry!”

Vaggie: “Charlie it’s fine.” (sigh) “Feels like we’ve used that word too much today.”

Charlie: “Ugh you’re right, sorry…”

Vaggie: “And that one too. Stop.”

Charlie: “Fine.”

Vaggie: “….”

Charlie: “….sorry?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “…you’re lucky you’re cute.”

Charlie: “And YOU’RE lucky you’re tiny and fit on the couch. There’s an actual bed here! In case you forgot since the last time I told you! Now, sit kitchen?”

Vaggie: “Actually I was thinking sit couch and I’m not taking your bed.”

Charlie: “Did you remember to eat anything while out poking rude hell people with your new spear?”

Vaggie: “S- sure I, uh, I did. Do that.”

Charlie: “Uh-huh.”

Vaggie: “Yes.”

Charlie: “Mmhmm.”

Vaggie: “…I did do it.”

Charlie: “Bzzt, lies. To the snackies we go!”

Vaggie: “But-”

Charlie: “And I’m getting you in that bed eventually. It’s gonna happen. Couches can’t be good for your back, even when you’re so small! Especially when you’re hurt!”

Vaggie: “Charlie, if I was in your bed you’d never get any SLEEP.”

Charlie: “Why not? I like being around you!”

Vaggie: “I move around too much at night.”

Charlie: “Bad dreams?”

Vaggie: “…sure.”

Charlie: “Well maybe not being alone when you wake up would help? That’s what Razzle and Dazzle do for me sometimes- right guys?”

Razzle: “Baa!”

Dazzle: “Mreh.”

Vaggie: “Hi fellas… What… what happened to your kitchen.”

Charlie: “I asked them to get snacks ready!”

Vaggie: “It’s a warzone.”

Charlie: “It’s snack time?”

Vaggie: “There’s enough doughnuts here to feed a whole battalion after a battle.”

Charlie: “Well since you weren’t here to ASK I couldn’t TELL them what KIND of doughnut would be your FAVORITE.”

Razzle & Dazzle: “Ree!”

Charlie: “So we had to make all the kinds. But only this one time, okay guys?”

Razzle & Dazzle: “Grrr….”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Thought you said you weren’t even sure I’d be back.”

Charlie: “I wasn’t. You’re the first sinner who’s ever crashed on my couch, so I just, hoped.”

Vaggie: “…..”

Vaggie: “Thanks. For the hope.”

Charlie: “You’re welcome. Really, literally, you’re welcome. Couch or wherever.”

Vaggie: “……or buried under a mountain of pastries?”

Charlie: “Finding your favorite kind is IMPORTANT okay!”

Vaggie: “There’s dough splatters on the ceiling.”

Charlie: “You’re worth a few dough splatters and an artfully singed carpet. You’d also be worth some lost sleep. Now! Staring with the basic, a classic plain glaze….” (busily dives into doughnut infogump)

Vaggie: “….”

Dazzle: “Rrr?” (hands her a tissue)

Vaggie: “...huh? Oh.” (takes tissue) “Thanks….” (dabs at her eye while Charlie isn’t looking)

[naeviskz]

genre. idol!hyunjin x model!f!reader | established relationship

words. 1.5k+ tags/warnings. angst, fluff (towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hj is lowkey toxic (but we love it hehe), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread

this has been in my drafts for years and i finally finished it bc i was tired of seeing it LMAO. btw the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rlly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to hyunjin was like conversing with the wall, never truly grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with chan or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

hyunjin felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere ___, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hyune, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious ___? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” hyunjin couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you hyunjin. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” hyunjin angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

hyunjin’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed slit “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, hyunjin!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your dewy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hyunjin-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, hyunjin loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. hyunjin knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a slew of curses leave your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. hyunjin slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and tummy.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing hyunjin’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe you’re all mine.” hyunjin whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much baby.”

“love you too hyune.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎