#i wasn't . too confident in that one. i didn't think it was Bad but i didn't think it was special or anything either

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

AU where Edwin knows he's gay from the start would be fire me thinks.

Imagine if he thinks he deserved Hell but still wants to escape and feel so wrong and selfish for it. So he never tells Charles what actually happened between 1916-1989, Charles only knows whatever happened was very bad no good. Edwin would be horribly, painfully aware that he was falling for Charles. But that's wrong, isn't it? Boys can't like boys.

So he tries so hard to ignore it, tamp it down. He can't let Charles know. If he knows then he'll know why he's avoiding the afterlife, that he deserves to go to Hell.

Charles knows Edwin is scared of Death and the afterlife, he assumes that something happened from 1916-1989 that convinced Edwin he was damned but there's just no damn way someone as good as Edwin deserves Hell. But, selfishly, he never tries to convince Edwin to go. To leave for his beautiful afterlife.

Then Port Townsend happens.

Crystal is no idiot, she can tell Edwin's jealous from the start. She can tell Charles thinks it's because they're best friends, she can tell it's because Edwin's in love. That doesn't stop her though, she deserves one good thing after everything, doesn't she?

(I think Cat King would go very similar to canon, but it's less of "I'm not gay" and more of "I know what I am but these urges aren't okay".)

Niko loves love, she can tell Edwin loves Charles. She can tell Edwin doesn't know it's okay. Niko helps him through it, becomes his confidant, the first person he confesses everything to. I think they would have a huge conversation that ends in them both crying -- Edwin bemoaning his unrequited love, Niko mourning for him -- and cuddled up watching Scooby-Doo. (The sprites get teary eyed too but still mock them, Niko calls them out and they deny it. "It's dusty as shit in this old ass glass!" "Yeah, we're getting fucking pick eye in here!" "When's the last time you even washed this shit-ass jar?")

It all comes to a head with the Night Nurse. We all know her spiel, "I'm taking Edwin back to Hell and Charles to get processed." But Charles doesn't know Edwin's been processed. Charles doesn't know Edwin's assigned to Hell.

Niko is empathetic, not forcing Edwin to explain but not once thinking he did anything to deserve it. Crystal is up in arms, demanding to know what he did to deserve Hell, demanding to know why he hid it from Charles. Charles is confused, conflicted. Edwin's his best mate! There's no way he deserves Hell! But... but why didn't he tell Charles? Edwin is overwhelmed and panicked and no, no, no! Charles was never supposed to know!

Now, listen. Niko isn't one for confrontation, she doesn't like to fight. But hearing Crystal rip into an unresponsive Edwin while Charles lingers unsure on the back has her heart breaking, has her head hurting. So she steps in, shouts at them to stop, that they'll talk tomorrow when they've cooled off. And drags Edwin off to her room for the night. She doesn't demand answers and he doesn't give them.

The next day, everyone's off. The tension is high and only building. Crystal keeps sending Edwin pointed comments and Edwin is actively ignoring her existence. Charles is conflicted, caught between Crystal and Edwin; taking both their sides without taking either. And Niko doesn't know how to soothe any of it, so she sticks close to Edwin.

Eventually the four are leaving the graveyard, Crystal and Charles arguing when she rounds on Edwin. "And you! Don't think I forgot about you!" Niko tries to step in and stop it like she did last time but Edwin's tired, he's had enough, he breaks. "I was sacrificed! I was sacrificed and spent seventy-three gruelling years fighting to escape! There, happy? Might we please move on now?"

He storms past them all and for the first time since this dispute started, Niko is angry. She tells Crystal that wasn't okay, that it was cruel. And takes off after Edwin, leaving Charles and Crystal standing uselessly.

"I didn't know..." Neither remember who said that.

[lxndonorris]

games - Franco Colapinto

Y/N x Franco Colapinto Theme: Smutty, Teasing, Touching playing teasing games with Franco word count: 3520+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 open for requests :)

The hum of the paddock was always the same. Mechanics bustled between the garages, engineers huddled over laptops, and the faint smell of burnt rubber and motor oil lingered in the air. 

It was race weekend, and as a member of Williams' strategy department, your mind was consumed with tire degradation rates, fuel calculations, and weather forecasts.

This weekend was different, though; Franco Colapinto had been brought in as a replacement for the remainder of the season. It wasn't uncommon for drivers to shuffle in and out, but his arrival left you with mixed feelings.

While his talent was undeniable, his presence also underscored the volatility of the sport. 

One moment you're on top; the next, you're replaced.

You tried to keep your head down and focus on your work, but Franco had other ideas.

From the moment he stepped into the Williams garage, he exuded confidence—maybe too much. His charming smile seemed to disarm everyone around him, and his jokes quickly won over the mechanics. 

You wanted to be immune to it. After all, you weren't here to be dazzled by a driver; you were here to perform as best as possible. 

Still, there was something about his energy that made him hard to ignore.

Friday morning was spent poring over practice session data. By the time the clock struck noon, you were desperate for a break. Slipping away from the chaos, you found a quiet corner of the hospitality area. The cool breeze and a cup of coffee were all you needed to reset your mind.

But, of course, that peace was short-lived.

"Found you," came a smooth voice from behind.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Franco had a knack for making his presence known.

"What do you want, Colapinto?" You asked, keeping your tone neutral as you sipped your coffee.

"Is that how you greet all our teammates?" He teased, sliding into the chair across from you. 

He didn't wait for an invitation, naturally.

"I'm not sure we're teammates," you countered, setting your cup down. "You're here to drive; I'm here to strategize."

"Semantics," he said with a shrug. "We're both here for the same goal, aren't we?"

His casual confidence was maddening, but you refused to let it get under your skin.

"Did you need something, or are you just here to disrupt my break?"

He grinned, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Maybe I just wanted to get to know you better. You seem... interesting."

"Interesting?" You echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's vague."

"Charming, sharp, beautiful. Should I go on?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"Flattery doesn't work on me."

"Oh, I don't believe that for a second," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. "But if it doesn't, I'll just have to try harder."

It was infuriating how effortlessly he pushed your buttons. And yet, you couldn't deny the thrill of it. 

If he wanted to play this game, you'd make sure you won.

Careful, Franco," you said, letting your fingers brush over his arm as you stood. "You don't want to bite off more than you can chew."

His breath hitched just barely—a subtle reaction, but one you didn't miss. He tilted his head, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. 

"I think I can handle it."

"Good luck, then," you said, walking away before he could respond.

---

The day went on, and you managed to avoid Franco for the most part. But by the time the evening rolled around, you found yourself thinking about your brief encounter. 

He was charming, funny, and annoyingly attractive. And yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that getting involved with him was a bad idea. He was a temporary replacement, after all. What was the point in letting yourself get tangled up in something that might not last?

But Franco wasn't the type to give up easily.

---

Saturday morning brought more practice sessions and strategy meetings. You were buried in data when Franco strolled into the engineering office, his helmet tucked under one arm.

"You look busy," he said, leaning casually against the desk.

"I am," you replied without looking up.

"Maybe I can help," he offered, his tone playful.

"Unless you've suddenly become an expert in race strategy, I doubt it."

"I might surprise you," he said, stepping closer.

You glance up at him, your lips curving into a smirk.

"Oh, I'm sure you're full of surprises."

His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to crackle. Then, just as quickly, you returned your focus to the laptop in front of you, leaving him standing there.

But Franco wasn't one to be ignored. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

"You know, if you keep teasing me like this, I might start to think you enjoy it."

You turned to face him, your faces inches apart. 

"And if I do?"

His grin widened. "Then I'd say we're going to have a lot of fun."

With that, he straightened up and walked away, leaving you to wonder what exactly you'd gotten yourself into.

---

A few hours later, the buzz of post-qualifying energy filled the air as team members analyzed data and discussed strategies for the race.

The car had shown steady performance, and Franco had managed to secure P13—a good result considering the car's limitations this season and his inexperience with it all.

You sat in the corner of the engineering office, reviewing telemetry and tire degradation patterns when the door swung open, revealing Franco. His white racing suit clung to him, the logos proudly displayed on his chest. His hair was damp, slightly tousled from the helmet, and a faint sheen of sweat made him look effortlessly rugged.

"P13," he announced with a grin, his voice bright as he strode into the room. "Not bad for the new guy, huh?"

You glance up from your screen and nodded.

"Not bad at all. You might even be worth keeping around."

His grin widened as he leaned against the desk beside you.

"High praise coming from you. I was beginning to think I'd never win you over."

"You still haven't," you said, letting your lips curve into a smirk. "But you're off to a decent start."

He chuckled, his dark eyes locked on yours.

"I'll take that as a challenge."

As the room cleared out, people heading off to dinner or more meetings, Franco lingered. His teasing continued, lighthearted at first, but his words grew bolder with each exchange.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I think you like having me around more than you let on."

"And why would you think that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you're still here talking to me instead of running off like everyone else," he said, his tone smug. "Admit it—you’re intrigued."

You leaned back in your chair, studying him.

"Intrigued? Maybe, impressed? Not quite."

His laugh was soft, and he leaned in closer, his arms crossed as he rested them on the desk. 

"You're tough to crack, you know that?"

"Maybe you're just not trying hard enough," you shot back, your tone playful.

Beneath the table, an idea crossed your mind.

Without a word, you let your foot drift toward him. Slowly, deliberately, you dragged the tip of your shoe along his calf. You felt him tense ever so slightly, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second before returning, sharper than before.

His eyes darkened, but he played it cool.

"Oh, so that's how you want to play?" he murmured.

You didn't respond, instead letting your foot continue its slow journey up his leg, brushing over his knee and toward his thigh. His breathing quickened, though he did his best to hide it. When your foot reached just beneath the edge of his suit, you stopped, withdrawing just enough to leave him wanting more.

"You were saying?" you asked, your voice innocent.

He cleared his throat, his grin never fading.

"I think you're enjoying this even more than I am."

You tilted your head, feigning indifference. 

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

"How about we find out?"

Your heart skipped, but you kept your composure.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Meet me later," he said, his words deliberate. "My motorhome."

For a moment, you let the suggestion hang in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. Then, with a coy smile, you leaned back in your chair.

"We'll see."

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he stood. In one swift motion, he unzipped his suit just enough to grant you a glimpse of the blue fireproofs beneath.

"You're going to drive me crazy, aren't you?"

"Only if you're lucky," you replied, watching as he walked away.

As the door closed behind him, you exhaled deeply, your mind racing. You didn't want to admit it, but the thought of meeting him sent a thrill through you that was impossible to ignore.

---

An hour later, you found yourself standing outside Franco's motorhome, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. Your heart was pounding. Was this the right decision? Yet, something about him—his charm, his confidence, his maddening ability to make you second-guess everything—had drawn you here.

You knocked, the sound feeling louder than it should in the quiet paddock. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was.

Franco stood in the doorway, still in his racing gear, the upper half loosely hanging down around his waist. The tight blue Nomex undershirt clung to his chest and arms, highlighting every contour. His hair was still slightly damp, and his grin was as infuriatingly cocky as ever.

"You came," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, his voice laced with amusement.

"You invited me," you replied, your tone light but guarded.

"And I didn't think you'd actually show up," he admitted, stepping aside to let you in. "Come on, make yourself comfortable."

You hesitated for only a second before stepping into the motorhome. It was cozy, the space designed for function but with enough personal touches to make it feel lived-in. A small table and couch sat to one side, a kitchenette on the other. The faint scent of something fresh—maybe soap—lingered in the air.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you turned to find Franco watching you, his arms crossed and that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

"Not bad," you said, glancing around. "I expected it to be messier."

He chuckled, stepping closer.

"What can I say? I like to keep things in order. Well, most things."

You raised an eyebrow. "And the things you don't?"

"Those tend to be more fun," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken again.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"You're relentless, you know that?"

"And you're impossible to ignore," he countered, closing the distance between you.

The teasing back-and-forth began almost immediately. His fingers brushed against your back as he passed you, a casual touch that sent shivers down your spine. 

You retaliated by letting your hand linger on his arm, tracing the toned muscle beneath the fabric. His grin only widened.

"You're not making this easy," he said, his voice low.

"Good," you replied, leaning against the small table. "I wouldn't want to."

He moved closer, his eyes searching yours as he rested his hands on either side of you, caging you in without actually touching you.

"You're going to drive me insane," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Maybe that's the point."

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension. Slowly, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. Your heart raced, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your back again, this time more deliberate, more lingering.

You let your hand slide up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. Your fingers drifted to his shoulders, then down his arms, before finally brushing over his thigh.

His breath hitched, his composure faltering ever so slightly, and you knew you had him.

But just as his lips were about to meet yours, you pulled away, stepping aside with a teasing smile.

"Not so fast," you said, your voice light and playful.

His eyes darkened, and he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. 

"You're cruel, you know that?"

"Am I?" You ask innocently, though the gleam in your eyes betrayed you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mingled with amusement.

"You're going to be the death of me."

You shrugged, moving toward the couch and sitting down, crossing one leg over the other. 

"Maybe. But you'll enjoy every second of it."

Franco stood there for a moment, his hands on his hips, as if deciding whether to let you win this round. Finally, he let out a breath, his smirk returning.

"You're trouble," he said, joining you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours. "And I like it."

You lean closer, your voice a whisper. 

"You have no idea."

The air between you felt electric, the tension thick as you leaned in just enough to close the distance without actually touching him. 

Franco stayed still, watching you with a mix of amusement and anticipation. His restraint was admirable, but you could see the flicker of desire in his eyes. 

He knew you were playing with him, and yet he let you—whether it was curiosity, confidence, or sheer temptation, you couldn't tell.

You let your hands roam over his chest, your fingers trailing along the lines of his toned muscles beneath the fabric of his Nomex shirt. His breath grew shallow, his chest rising and falling in time with the slow, deliberate movements of your hands.

You lingered at his collarbone, letting your fingers drift upward to his neck, where you caressed the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the faintest hint of a stubble grazing your fingertips.

With your other hand, you let your fingers slide down to his thigh, brushing over the firm muscle just barely. The touch was light, teasing, a mere whisper of contact that made him shift slightly under your hand.

His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He just watched you, his gaze dark and intense, as if daring you to push him further.

"You're quiet," you said softly, your thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw.

"You're in control," he replied, his voice rougher than usual, a low hum that sent a thrill down your spine. "For now."

The confidence in his tone made you smirk. 

You let your fingers on his thigh press down a little more, moving in slow circles that barely grazed where you knew he wanted them. He shifted again, his composure slipping just enough to make your teasing worth it.

"Franco," you murmured, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his ear. "You're enjoying this too much."

He chuckled, the sound soft but strained.

"You don't know half of it."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still exploring his jawline while your other hand continued its slow, deliberate movements on his thigh.

His eyes were locked on yours, his restraint remarkable given the circumstances. 

It was a game now—one you weren't sure either of you wanted to win.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that was soft but purposeful. He hesitated yet gave in, his hand moving to the small of your back as he deepened the kiss, his restraint giving way to the desire he'd been holding back.

The moment felt charged, every touch, every movement heightened by the tension that had been building between you.

Your hand on his thigh moved slightly, your fingers brushing against him just enough to draw a sharp intake of breath from him. 

You smiled against his lips, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted. You let your touch linger, a faint stroke that sent a shiver through him.

When you finally pull back, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his breath shallow as he looked at you with a mix of satisfaction and frustration.

"Was that what you wanted?" you asked, your voice low, teasing.

He smirked, running a hand through his tousled hair. 

"It's a start."

Your fingers, still on his thigh, pressed down a little more deliberately, tracing slow, deliberate circles over the firm muscle. He tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching just barely, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, a challenge glinting in the dark depths.

"Patience," you murmured, letting your fingers drift a little higher, teasingly brushing along the edge of where he wanted them most.

His jaw tightened, and you could feel the restraint it took for him to let you lead, to let you play this game.

"You're relentless," he whispered, his voice rough and low.

"Only because it's fun," you replied, your lips curving into a mischievous smile.

You leaned in again, letting your lips hover just over his, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against yours. At the same time, you let your fingers slide up his thigh once more, giving him the faintest, gentlest squeeze. 

His breath hitched again, sharper this time, and you couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped you.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice tight, his control fraying at the edges.

You didn't answer, instead letting your hand linger, your touch slow and deliberate as you felt the tension coiling in him, the way his body reacted to every subtle movement. 

Your other hand moved back to his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath the tight, slightly damp fabric of his shirt, before sliding upward to cup his jaw.

His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and you took the opportunity to lean in, pressing your lips to his in another slow, lingering kiss. 

This time, he didn't hold back. 

His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a hunger that made your heart race. His other hand cupped your face, his fingers warm and steady against your skin.

But just as he was beginning to take control, you pulled back, breaking the kiss and pulling away from his touch. Your fingers trailed down his chest one last time before sliding back to his thigh, giving him one final squeeze. 

You smirked as his eyes opened, dark and heavy with frustration and need.

"So much trouble. You're impossible," he said, his voice husky.

"Maybe," you replied, standing up slowly, letting your fingers linger on his thigh until the last possible moment. "But you're still letting me win."

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch. 

At first, he exhaled and raised an arm, stroking the back of his head. The movement made his toned chest stand out even more, the fabric of his undershirt clinging to him as he stretched slightly, trying to shake off the tension you'd left behind.

"I'm letting you think you're winning."

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow, watching him closely.

As he leaned back against the sofa, his head resting against the cushions, he let out a long, steadying breath. His hand moved almost instinctively to his chest, following the path your fingers had traced moments before.

His fingers slid over the fabric of his nomex shirt, pressing lightly against his chest as though trying to capture the sensations you'd left behind.

His other hand drifted lower, brushing over his stomach and coming to rest near the visible strain inside his suit. His bulge was unmistakable, the tension evident even through the tightly fitted material. 

"Oh, is that what you're telling yourself?"

He smirked, the heat in his eyes unwavering.

"You'll see."

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tightening as he let his hand hover over his bulge, his fingers flexing slightly.

It was as though he was chasing the lingering heat of your touch, replaying every teasing stroke, every deliberate squeeze in his mind.

The ghost of your fingers on his thigh, the press of your hand against his jaw, the softness of your lips—all of it hung in the air between you, even though you stood up.

He exhaled sharply, his hand brushing against the strain, his body responding to the memory of the game you'd just played. A low chuckle escaped his lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Next time, I'll make sure to win."

You laughed, stepping toward the door.

"Goodnight, Franco."

Goodnight," he called after you, his voice rich with amusement. As you slipped out of the motorhome and into the cool night air, you couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

This was a game you weren't sure either of you wanted to end.

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature Lizzie, please stop 😩...

Another chapter that has me raging internally at Lizzie's misplaced superiority in Tommy's life and Arrow House 😤. She's never gonna give it a rest, is she?

My heart broke for Lucy when she was watching them during their boardgame. I hate how she misinterprets those moments she sees between them for a happy family 😭.

As Lucy watched, Lizzie’s hand came to rest on Tommy’s thigh, her long, pale fingers inching towards brushing against his. Arghhh, Tommy! Why didn't he swat her hand away 🤦🏼‍♀️?? This was such a crushing scene for her to have to witness. No fucking wonder she feels the way she does all the time!

His eyes widened, and she heard him call her name softly but she pretended not to hear, walking briskly towards the stairs. Immediately she felt bad. It was not her intention to make him feel guilty for prioritizing his family over her. Am I cruel? I feel like I'm cruel, but I want him to feel guilty for this. Lucy has drawn the short straw ever since his major fuck up. And Lucy is his family too 😭!

The next part with Lizzie, enraged me! I can't believe she "changed her mind" which I believe wasn't her having a change of heart but her playing her next move in her endeavour to have Tommy all to herself. I'm genuinely starting to think that that was her plan all along, because she agreed to this arrangement far to quickly for someone that has shown so much hate towards everything.

Yeah, well, she would never pull this kind of shit on me in the first place. She bends over backwards to make you happy and comfortable and all you do is treat her like garbage.” - Tommy rounded on her. “Stop making it out to be more than it was! We fucked in a dark dirty canal while I was thinking of someone else. That’s all.” FINALLY! He's telling her how it is! I know this was a pretty hurtful and a harsh thing for him to say, but I feel like she needed to hear it. She's deluded herself into believing that that quick shag was more than what it was, and that's exactly where she went wrong with it all.

Arghh 👌🏼😍!! Their reunion sex was so hot! You had me at this line 🥴... He froze, slowly lifting his face to look at her. “Feel,” he took her hand, sliding it down to cup his crotch, where his cock was already bulging in his slacks. His fingers flexed around hers, encouraging her to squeeze slightly around him. “Feel how much I still want you, Lucy.” I'm weak 😩! I can't explain to you how sultry how steamy this was. I live for these moves he makes. It exudes that confident, passionate side to him I love to see between him and Lucy.

Don’t stop,” he half begged once they separated for air. His mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and letting her hear him as he drew closer to his climax. Another hot line! Them kissing is enough to have them both falling over the edge...I love it 🥴!

It's honestly a relief to see Lucy just relax for once 😂. He's the one that stops that constant nagging of thoughts in her head, and he's the only one that can reassure her enough for her to understand that she will always be his only girl! I just wish Lizzie would get the memo. Hopefully she did after hearing some hard truths from Tommy!

I'm on edge as much as Lucy with Lizzie's yo-yo cattiness 🙈. It's so hard to see her step around her bratty behaviour like she's a guest in Lizzie and Tommy's house. And as much as they were able to open up and clear the air in this scene, Lizzie still opened with this line...“And yet you’re not going to stop doing it.” she agreed to this arrangement !! I swear I'm gonna be pulling my hair out by the time this season ends 😬! Imagine if Lucy turned around and said "Well, you spoiled mine and Tommy's fun when you got knocked up"?? Tommy was never hers to begin with, and it's like she's playing the betrayer wife or something. It's so hard to understand the way her brain works 🤦🏼‍♀️!

Ok so we left on a better note with Lizzie, for now 😬. But it never lasts long. Can we have Dian make an entrance so Lizzie can turn her vengeance to her and give Lucy a break 😂? Maybe having a common enemy will do the trick 🤭?

Amazing as always hun! Excited to read more 😍.

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Summary: Tommy has to make a choice of which woman he will pledge himself to.

Word Count: 7,520

Warnings: Jealousy, depression, smut, and infidelity (sort of).

Notes: I am so sorry for the high word count of this chapter. I just couldn't find a good place to break it in two. Tommy's a bit of an idiot here, but he is trying.

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic! I have been absolutely blown away by the reception it has gotten. If you enjoyed this and are looking for more like it, I am planning to post another fic set in this same timeline that takes place during season 5, and manages to be somehow even more angsty than this one. So keep your eyes open for that if you're interested!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 5: Promises

“Miss. Winters.”

Lucy looked up, startled out of the sharp focus she’d been concentrating onto the papers in front of her. Frances was standing there near her desk, peering at her from over the tray of steaming food clutched in her hands. 

“Mr. Shelby wanted me to bring this for you. He didn’t want you to go hungry.”

Lucy frowned, capping her pen and setting it aside. Grabbing a stack of papers, she moved them out of the way to make room on her desk for the tray. “They’re having dinner?”

“Yes, Miss. They were just finishing, I think.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

Frances frowned. “Mrs. Shelby told me that you were working and wouldn’t be able to eat with them this evening.”

“Ah.” That made sense, then. Frances stuttered. 

“I’m sorry if there’s been a miscommunication…”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” Lucy waved away her apologies. “Thank you for bringing the tray.”

Frances nodded, and departed from the room. Fingertips rubbing together, Lucy glanced over at the plate on her desk. Piled upon it was a filet of salmon, some potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Picking up the fork, she picked idly at the fish, flaking it but bringing only a few mouthfuls to her lips. Her appetite was nonexistent.

Something in Lizzie had changed. That much was clear. Whatever warmth or amiable attitude towards her and the arrangement they’d agreed upon prior to the wedding had evaporated. She must have changed her mind about being okay with Tommy remaining involved with her. Or maybe this was her plan all along; to get Tommy legally bound to her and then push Lucy out. 

She could not say for how long she sat there, staring into space and picking at her food. When she looked up at the clock, it was to find that it was a lot later than she’d expected. Fucking hell, had it really been that long since she’d watched Tommy and Lizzie depart with the children for their picnic? 

Pushing away from her desk, she made her way out of her office with mechanical movements. In her mind, she debated whether or not she should even try to seek out Tommy wherever he was in the massive house. Probably with his wife. Enjoying their time together. 

She’d just leave them be, she decided, taking the route towards the stairs to head to bed. He clearly didn’t want to see her, considering it had been hours and he hadn’t even stopped by her office after they got back from their outing. She’d hate to pop their happy little bubble more than she already had.  

On her way to the staircase she passed by the library. The door leading inside was slightly cracked open, revealing a sliver of golden light. From within, she caught snippets of chatter and laughter. Footsteps coming to a stop, she stared at the wooden door, the feeling of being left out sitting like a rock inside her chest. 

Unable to stop herself, despite knowing it would only cause her pain, she shuffled forward to peek through the small crack between the doors.

Tommy, Lizzie, and Charlie were all crowded around a table, playing a board game together. Tommy and Lizzie were seated next to each other on a couch, both laughing at something Charlie must have done during his turn. As Lucy watched, Lizzie’s hand came to rest on Tommy’s thigh, her long, pale fingers inching towards brushing against his. 

 A crushing sensation squeezed harshly at Lucy’s heart. She took a staggering step back, hoping to escape before any of them spotted her, but Tommy’s eyes lifted before she could fully dart out of view from the doorway. Maybe he had sensed her there. Or maybe it was just her movement in the corner of his eye that caught his attention. 

“Lucy?” he straightened, and the way that the small smile that had been playing on his lips as he watched his wife and child fell just about killed her. It felt like she’d burst in on a private moment that she had no business being a part of. As if with just her presence alone she had ruined all the fun and joy he was experiencing. 

“I was just going to bed,” she said, so that they knew that she had no intention of intruding further. “So, erm…goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Lucy,” Charlie said, despite most of his concentration being focused on moving his piece across the board. Lizzie said nothing, but Tommy scrambled to his feet, crossing the room to her before she could back away. 

“Hey,” he spoke gently, taking her gently by the arm. “I’m sorry. Frances said you were busy, and Charlie wanted to play–”

“It’s fine.”

He blinked, concern filling his eyes. “Love–”

“It’s late,” she shrugged him off. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dad, it’s your turn!” Charlie called. Lucy started to retreat away. So that he could return to his family.  

Tommy tried to reach out for her again. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Pausing, she looked back at him. “It’s fine if you don’t.”

His eyes widened, and she heard him call her name softly but she pretended not to hear, walking briskly towards the stairs. Immediately she felt bad. It was not her intention to make him feel guilty for prioritizing his family over her. The breaths leaving her lips turned shaky. Hands stuffing into her pockets, her head bowed, she began the walk through the winding halls to her room. Tucked far in the back of the house, away from the main apartments, where hardly anyone ever wandered. 

Hidden out of sight, out of mind. She wondered if he knew she had moved rooms. And if he did, if he knew where she was. 

If he would even try to come looking for her.   

∗ ∗ ∗

“Alright, Charlie, mate, it is well past your bedtime,” Tommy said, gesturing to Frances who was hovering by the door, ready to take him up to his room.

“Aw, c’mon, just one more round!” Charlie whined. 

“Yes, Tommy, just one more,” Lizzie agreed, smiling around her cigarette. Tommy narrowed his eyes at them. 

“I don’t know if I like this with you two ganging up on me.”

They both smiled innocently. 

“Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee,” Charlie begged. Tommy chuckled, ruffling his hair fondly. 

“I’ve had a long day, son. I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow, eh?”

Charlie pouted a little, but relented, saying goodnight to both him and Lizzie before taking Frances’s outstretched hand and letting her lead him away.

“Right,” wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy eyed the door that led out to the main staircase eagerly. Anxiety constricted within his chest.  

It’s fine if you don’t.

God, he was such a fucking shit. He should have gone after her immediately, or at the very least invited her to join them. But she had practically run away from him before he could get the chance. 

The day was almost over, and he had barely gotten to spend any time with her. 

“I’m going to bed. If you need anything, just pull the cord in your room and a maid will come around.”

“Tommy, wait!” Lizzie’s voice was strained with agitation, her eyes suddenly frantic. “Why don’t…why don’t we go for a walk on the grounds?”

Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “Lizzie, it’s dark out.”

“B-but we could–”

“Lizzie,” he wasn’t shouting, but his voice was firm, stopping her in her tracks before she could say any more. “Enough. I know what you’re trying to do. And you need to stop.”

Her jaw clenched, and while anger entered her face, the desperation in her eyes did not cease. “I just…I thought…”

He sighed, turning to face her fully. “You knew what this arrangement was going to look like,” he was mindful to keep his voice calm, not wanting to be unkind. It was understandable that she might struggle with it all at first. But that didn’t mean that he was going to suddenly go back on all the promises he’d made to Lucy. “I gave you a whole week in Paris. I need to go back to her now.”

“No, you don’t.” She rose to her feet, going to him and resting her hands on his arm. 

“Lizzie, this is what you agreed to–”

“I changed my mind,” she blurted out. Tommy stared at her, lips half parted, eyes wide. Horror twisted deeply in his chest. No. Oh, God, no, Lizzie, for fuck’s sake…

Of course he had known that this was a possibility, but after he and Lucy worked so hard to double and triple check that Lizzie was alright with their arrangement, and to impress upon her how things were going to be, he had hoped she would have known better than to hope for more than what he was explicitly offering her. 

He felt his features harden. “Well, I haven’t.”

Lizzie’s features twitched. He could see her trying to keep her vulnerability hidden behind a facade of sternness, but there were cracks forming in the mask. Especially in her eyes.

“We agreed to a very specific type of marriage, Lizzie. Just because you’ve decided to go back on that, doesn’t mean that I have any obligation towards you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The rings on our fingers and our marriage license say otherwise.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he rubbed a hand across his eyes. “How many times did we ask if you were alright with the deal we were presenting you with, huh? Are you fucking kidding me, Lizzie!?” He pulled back, shaking her hands off of him and half turning away from her. A headache was starting to build behind his eyes. When he looked back at her it was to find Lizzie watching him, hands playing with the buttons on the front of her dress. There was still a tendril of hope in her eyes. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked defeatedly. Lizzie swallowed, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.

“I don’t want you to see her ever again.”

He shook his head. “That’s never going to happen. I’m not leaving her, Lizzie. Not ever. I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you that before you understand–”

“You would never treat her like this!” Lizzie exploded, the mask she’d been trying to keep carefully in place over her features shattering. Bitterness laced her voice as she spat the words out. “If it was the other way around, you would do what she asked of you in a heartbeat!”

He winced at the truth in her words. She was right. He would always prioritize Lucy’s desires. It wasn’t fair to Lizzie. She deserved better. But for fuck’s sake, she knew all of this going into things. It wasn’t like they’d pulled a blindfold over her eyes and tricked her into marrying him with promises of more than what he could offer. He had been as upfront as he knew how on what a marriage to him would be like for her. 

She said she was okay with it. Had she been lying? Had she intended to trap him all along? Or did she think she could handle things only to realize that she was in over her head after the fact? Or was she still that delusional to believe that he would somehow have a change of heart once the rings went on and the honeymoon was finished?

“Yeah, well, she would never pull this kind of shit on me in the first place. She bends over backwards to make you happy and comfortable and all you do is treat her like garbage.”

Shame entered Lizzie’s face, head dipping to stare down at the floor while her arms wrapped around herself. 

“It’s not personal.”

“You hate her.” He accused, feeling his own resentment and bitterness begin to burn in his eyes. 

“No, I don’t! But she has you and it’s not fair! I’ve been in your life longer. We created a child together—”

Tommy rounded on her. “Stop making it out to be more than it was! We fucked in a dark dirty canal while I was thinking of someone else. That’s all.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened and grew glassy with tears, and he immediately felt bad. But God, he didn’t know how else to make her understand…

Silence hung heavily between the two of them

“Tommy, I love you,” Lizzie said in a quiet voice. He could hear the hope in it still. For fuck’s sake, woman, he thought, closing his eyes. In his head, he debated whether or not to tell her that she didn’t. That you couldn’t love someone who you didn’t really know. Who you didn’t understand.

He opened his eyes, and forced himself to meet her hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry.” He saw something in Lizzie crack at the words, but forced himself to go on, despite the self loathing he felt for hurting her. “I love Lucy. If you’re forcing me to choose between you two, it’s going to her, Lizzie. It always will be. That does not mean you aren’t important, or unwelcome here. We want you and the kids here with us. We already have an arrangement sorted out. One you agreed to, remember? And we’re willing to make adjustments and compromises here and there, within reason. But I love her and that isn’t going to change. It’s up to you if you can make peace with that or not.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then we need to talk about other options.”

She looked at him as if he’d just hit her. 

Swiping a hand across his brow, brushing his fringe to the side, he shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling the need to try to somewhat soften the blow. “Look, give it some time before you make a decision. Let yourself get adjusted. It might not be as bad as you think.”

The clock on the mantle chimed. Lizzie was still hugging herself, looking seconds away from tears.    

“I have to go,” Tommy said. “I promised her.” He looked deep into Lizzie’s eyes, begging her to understand. But she said nothing, just staring at him with wounded, hate-filled eyes. He sighed. There was nothing really left to be said. As he walked past her to get to the door, he reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She winced away from his touch, turning her back to him. Tommy felt his heart sink at her pain but kept on moving, figuring that it might be better to leave her alone. 

He went to the library door, opening and stepping through it. Right before he closed it behind him, he heard the sounds of Lizzie starting to cry.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, considering, and then retracted, slipping back into his pocket. With hasty footsteps he retreated away from the library, heading towards Lucy. And away from the sounds of Lizzie’s heartbreak.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at herself miserably in the mirror. Hands flexing into fists against the tabletop of the vanity, she was half tempted to smash the reflection of the pathetic, pale, ugly girl staring back at her. She had finished wiping off her makeup, scrubbing perhaps a tad too aggressively at the sensitive skin of her face. And then she’d caught herself fluffing at her hair and adjusting the lay of her lacy red nightgown, and felt so damn stupid. What was the point? He wasn’t coming.

Lizzie had obviously changed her mind about being alright with everything. And maybe Tommy had too. It was over. 

Her eyes squeezed shut painfully at the thought, hands bracing on the edges of the basin in front of her until her knuckles turned white. How ridiculous she felt, to have ever thought that the arrangement they’d made with Lizzie would work. 

Should she start packing her things now, or wait until he gave her the official order to get out of his house?

She opened her eyes, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand and sniffling, swallowing down tears. It was amazing just how quickly everything had fallen apart.

Unable to stand looking at herself any longer, she abandoned the sink to shuffle her way into the bedroom. 

Golden light from the lamps set on the two nightstands on either side of the bed illuminated the room. Shivers wracked down Lucy’s spine from a chill that she was pretty sure was the result of a draft somewhere by the window. The staff had tried to keep the layout of the room the same as it had been in her previous quarters, but everything was just more cramped in the smaller space. Lucy was suddenly struck with a stab of claustrophobia; the feeling settling nauseatingly alongside the tightness of unshed tears already in her throat. 

Rubbing at her forehead, she took a step towards the bed, just reaching for the sash on her dressing gown to remove it when the door opened. 

Tommy’s expression was tightened with stress and exhaustion when he first stepped into the room, but it softened when his eyes landed on her. Features relaxing, a small smile found its way onto his face while he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Took me a while to find you. I had to ask Frances what room you were in.” He took a step forward, head cocking. “What are you doing all the way out here in this part of the house? No one comes to this wing much except for the maids.”

“Lizzie moved me here. She had the servants switch around my things during the wedding and reception.”

He frowned, inching even closer to her, eyes taking in the dimly lit bedroom. “You don’t have to stay in this room just because she says so.”

“It’s fine. It might be for the best that she and I aren’t that close to each other anyway.”

He reached out and touched her face, angling her head up so she was looking at him rather than the floor. His thumb traced the shape of her lips, eyebrow quirking slightly. “You didn’t think that I would come.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, just a simple statement. Lucy shrugged.

“She seemed very intent on keeping you with her.”

“I made you a promise.”

“You’ve made promises to her too.”

His head tilted. “I’d rather keep the ones I’ve made to you.” 

He made a move to kiss her, palms coming to rest on her hips, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. Her eyes searched his face, not even entirely sure what she was looking for. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, voice suddenly very hoarse. 

“Do what?”

She looked at him sadly. “Cheat on your wife.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure if what we’re doing really counts as cheating…”

“I doubt Lizzie sees it that way.”

His gaze lowered, thumbs beginning to rub circles into her waist. “She just needs time to adjust.”

“Tommy, she’s changed her mind. It’s obvious. She wants a real marriage with you.”

“That’s her problem. We both did our part to make sure that she knew what she was signing up for. She really has no leg to stand on if she’s shocked about it now.”

“Was she upset when you left to come see me?”

He didn’t answer, gaze darting away again.

“She was, wasn’t she?”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“My presence is the reason she’s getting her heart broken–”

“No.” Something sharpened stubbornly in his eyes, his grip tightening on her. “Don’t you dare try to put responsibility for Lizzie’s bad decision making onto yourself. She knew I wasn’t going to stop being with you. And she agreed to marry me anyway. That was her choice. We didn’t force her into it.” He cupped her face urgently. “It isn’t your fault if she’s miserable.”

“It’s hard not to feel like it isn’t…” 

“I know. I know. But love…even if you weren’t a factor at all, I doubt that I would be faithful to Lizzie.” He shot her a sheepish look. “I don’t love her. At least not the way that she wants me to. If anyone’s to blame for her unhappiness, it’s me. Not you.”

She smoothed her hands along his chest, leaning forward until her forehead rested between his pecs. Tommy embraced her tightly, rubbing her back.

“I thought you might’ve changed your mind too,” she mumbled. He drew back only far enough to look into her eyes. That stubbornness that she’d grown so fond of, despite how exasperating it sometimes was, had taken root in his blue irises. 

“I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not going to leave you or stop loving you.” Up and down, his thumb stroked across her cheek while his palm cradled it. His face was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breaths on her skin. The stubbornness in his eyes had transformed into earnestness. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, and her voice broke on her next words. “But maybe there’s no room for me…”

“Of course there is. Of course there is; there will always be room for you in my life.”

“Tommy,” she sighed, feeling as though the weight of the world was resting upon her. The guilt so encompassing she felt that it might swallow her whole. “You have other priorities now. You have a wife and children. I can’t…”

His brows furrowed, eyes turning stern. “If you’re asking me to not make you a priority, that isn’t something that I can do,” he shifted closer, wiping a stray tear she hadn’t even realized had rolled down her cheek. “You’ll always be a priority to me.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m giving it to you anyway.”

She lifted both hands to rest on his face, throat constricting hard with emotion at his words. One of Tommy’s large palms landed on top of hers, squeezing her hand. Face turning, he pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. Then he tipped his head down, so their foreheads could touch. A few more tears leaked from her eyes.

“This has been harder than I thought it would be.”

His strong hands pressed into the middle of her back, encouraging her to press herself closer to him. “Yeah,” he agreed, then looked away, clearing his throat. Lucy frowned at the change of expression in his eyes, something ashamed and deeply guilty entering them. 

“Tommy?”

“I feel like I’ve been unfaithful to you.” 

“What? Love, no…I said it was okay.”

He breathed in deeply. “Still. It was awful without you being there.”

Her thumb stroked the length of his cheek, raising up on her toes to get closer to him. “You didn’t betray me,” she said, lips almost ghosting over his. Tommy pressed himself even more firmly against her, leaning forwards and kissing the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. He raised his face enough to brush his nose with hers. 

“You’re not upset with me?”

“No, of course not. I was just scared you might change your mind about us, that’s all.”

His eyes softened, hands caressing her. “I would never. I love you.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I love you too.”

He kissed her tenderly, lips at first only brushing over hers before pressing more firmly, hands gripping her tighter. She sighed into his mouth, lips parting to him, arms coiling around his neck. When his kisses migrated from her lips to her neck, and his hands started to palm at her needily, she let out a small, desperate sound, latching onto his shoulders while he started to fumble with the strings at the back of her nightgown. 

“Oh, I missed you,” he whispered, kisses growing more urgent against her skin. “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

She could only moan softly and tilt her head back as he pressed his lips to her chest, right under her clavicle. Fingers fumbling with the buttons holding his waistcoat closed, all the while she let him pull her nightgown from her body. His hands moved to help her in undressing him, shedding all his upper layers and drawing her back into the circle of his arms.  

He purred when his hand slipped up from her waist to cup one of her bare breasts, her breath hitching at his thumb running across her nipple. 

“My beautiful girl,” he tucked his face into her neck, kissing from behind her ear all the way down the column of her throat. “Come here,” he murmured, as if she were not already pressed flush against him. But his hands still tried to draw her in even closer.

Her chest tightened, fingers stroking along the back of his head. “You know, I was worried for a while that you didn’t want me anymore.”

He froze, slowly lifting his face to look at her. “Feel,” he took her hand, sliding it down to cup his crotch, where his cock was already bulging in his slacks. His fingers flexed around hers, encouraging her to squeeze slightly around him. “Feel how much I still want you, Lucy.”

A moan shivered from her lungs, lips parting so that when his mouth descended on hers, his tongue entered her mouth with ease. He kissed her harder, a hand on the back of her neck while the other curled over her hip, beginning to walk her backwards towards the bed. He moaned deeply while she palmed him through his trousers, hips twitching.

She let him press her back onto the bed, him taking but a moment to unfasten his trousers and slip them and his underwear off before joining her. He crawled on top of her, slotting himself between her legs and kissing her hungrily. Lucy cradled his jaw in her hand, nuzzling at him while he explored her mouth before beginning to move down her body, spending time palming and sucking on her breasts, tracing the scars that marked her body with his lips, and then seeking out her cunt with his mouth and thick fingers. With clever, practiced movements he coaxed her into arching her back and gripping his hair, thighs twitching in response to his movements.

Maybe it was selfish, or signified something else wrong with her, but any and all guilt–or thought at all, for that matter--regarding Lizzie vanished the second that he kissed her. It was wondrous, really, how she could feel so inconsequential and insecure one moment, only for those feelings to almost entirely evaporate when he touched her. 

Terrible as it may have been, her guilt for what she was doing to Lizzie did not outweigh the desire, love, and loyalty she held for him.

She cried out when he added a second finger inside of her, crooking it and pumping rhythmically while his tongue toyed with her clit. Her nails scraped against his scalp while her head fell back against the pillows, thighs twitching. All it took was a strategic curling of his fingers inside her, and she came with a hoarse cry. 

Perhaps it was good that they were tucked away in such a far corner of the house. At least they didn’t need to worry about being quiet. 

Tommy brought her down from her high gingerly, withdrawing his fingers and pecking her inner thighs before rising up onto his arms, hovering over her. He wetted his lips, dark tendrils of hair falling across his forehead, pretty blue eyes wide and gazing down at her softly. He was so beautiful it nearly made her want to weep, stunned that someone so gorgeous would ever even consider wasting their time on her.   

As if reading her mind, he smoothed a hand over her hair, cupping the side of her face and drawing their foreheads together. “You’re perfect,” he said, eyes roving over her, dropping his weight onto her. Not enough to crush her beneath him, but enough so that she could feel every inch of his torso pressing into her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her brows drew in on each other. “Yes, you do.”

The look he gave he was affectionate yet somber. She stretched her head up to kiss him. 

“You do,” she insisted. “I love you. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“I love you too,” he said hoarsely, burying his face in her shoulder, hissing as he reached down to guide his cock to her entrance. “I’ll always love you.”

She drew in a harsh breath as he sank into her, filling her completely with a singular deep thrust. Tommy made a sound of intense relief, face nuzzling deeper into the crook of her neck. Lucy latched onto him tightly, a sharp mewl leaving her lips, solace washing over her potently once they were fully joined. Hand seeking out hers, he entwined their fingers together as he started to move.

The thrusts he gave her were slow and deep, grunts and praises passing his lips against the shell of her ear. Lucy clung to his back, legs wrapping around him. Her head was, finally, blissfully empty of any and all thoughts save for the pleasure he was giving her. All she knew was the heavy comfort of him on top of her, and the stretch of his large cock fitting snugly inside her. 

“Tommy…” she spoke without really being aware that her lips were moving. “My Tommy…”

“Yours, all yours…” he agreed, still moving. Her eyes rolled in her head at a particularly deep thrust, trying to comprehend how in the hell she had managed to survive a whole week with him. Without this.

They belonged together; and their bodies knew it. Their coupling was as natural as breathing. His pelvis ground into her clit, making her see stars, and when she pulled his hair to lift his face from where he was sucking marks into her neck, he growled. Instantly, he knew what she wanted, kissing her open mouthed and desperate.

“Don’t stop,” he half begged once they separated for air. His mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and letting her hear him as he drew closer to his climax. Hips moving half frantically to meet each of his thrusts, Lucy scratched her nails down his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. 

She teetered on the edge, wobbling like a trinket about to fall off the edge of a desk. Her walls squeezed and fluttered around him in warning, and when he reached between them to brush his thumb across her clit, she howled and clung to him for dear life. The barely-there touch was enough to send her careening off over the edge completely. Eyes rolling in her head, back arching, ankles pressing down harder into the small of his back, she came violently.   

Tommy shouted, grabbing onto her hard enough to bruise, but that was okay. She was holding onto him just as tightly. His cock twitched, then throbbed hard, and a contented moan emitted from low in his chest as he started to cum right after her.  

He thrusted a handful more times, prolonging both their orgasms and spilling languidly into her before coming to a stop, face pressed into her shoulder, back heaving up and down with exertion. Lucy realized that they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Had they really been going at it that hard? She had been too lost in having him again to notice. 

She wrapped her arms around his back, nuzzling at the side of his head while they both caught their breath. He was trembling a little against her, face turning to kiss her shoulder a few times before pulling out and moving to lay beside her.

It fully hit her then. Seeing him return to filling the space that for the past week had been left vacant was enough to do it. He had come back to her. He had kept his promise. She wasn’t going to lose him. 

Tears clogged in her throat, emotion almost entirely overwhelming her. Tommy’s arm hooked around her, pulling her into his chest. Immediately she snuggled into the warmth of his bare skin, head laying atop the patch of hair between his pectorals. His fingers stroked along the ridges of her spine, cheek moving to rest on the top of her head. Every once in a while his face turned to press kisses against her hairline. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly after a moment. Lucy dragged in a shaky breath. 

“I think I will be.”

“Don’t worry about Lizzie. I expect that things will be as they always have with her. She’ll have her good days and bad. But you don’t have to spend time with her or deal with her if you don’t want to. She’s my problem. Not yours.”

“Your problems are my problems,” she said, adjusting her head on his chest to peer up at him. He gave her a tiny smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He swept a curl behind her ear. “It’s going to be alright,” he decreed, shifting to relax more properly on the pillows, holding her tightly. As if to remind them both they were just as inseparable as they had been before he made his vows to Lizzie. Lucy closed her eyes, clinging to that indescribable, unbreakable bond between them, letting the presence of it soothe and lull her into believing him. “I promise,” he added.

And Tommy never broke his promises to her. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy watched Lizzie with a mounting sense of terror building in her chest. Hands fidgeting with each other earnestly, her heart leapt upwards to pound relentlessly in her throat. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she ought to leave; before Lizzie noticed her. 

And yet she didn’t move, frozen in place, just watching as Lizzie poured over a book propped up in her lap, steam from the teacup perched on the nearby table curling up into the air. 

She had slipped away while Tommy was busy returning all the calls he’d missed during his absence. They had risen early that morning, first for another round of sex, and then to begin getting him caught up on everything. There was a small mountain of papers for him to sign, and that was just for things to do with his position in Parliament. 

Forcing herself to be brave, Lucy took a step forward. “Lizzie?”

She looked up, expression immediately souring. Lucy gulped at the chilly reception, but forced her features to remain in an expression of pleasantness, her voice warm.  

“We didn’t really get to talk yesterday.”

“No, we didn’t,” Lizzie returned her gaze to the book in her lap, her tone greatly suggesting that the lack of conversation had been by design. 

“Well…did you have fun? In Paris, I mean.”

Lizzie looked up at her again. “Yes.” Her shoulders heaved with a sigh. “And now it’s over.”

She couldn’t bring herself to continue to hold that gaze. Not when it was filled was such heartbreak and accusation. Instead, she dropped her head to stare down at her shoes. “I’m sorry.”

“And yet you’re not going to stop doing it.”

“It’s…it’s what we all agreed to…”

Lizzie scoffed, slamming the cover of her book shut with a light thwap, placing it on the table and standing. 

“Lizzie,” she brought more firmness into her voice when she started to walk away from her. Lizzie froze, back stiffening. When she turned to face her, she had her chin tilted up, only adding to the intimidation of her already considerable height. Lucy gentled her voice, aware that barking at her was likely to get her nowhere. “You and I have to figure out a way to deal with each other.” 

Lizzie’s throat worked, but still she said nothing. 

“I know that you want me to leave…but…I told him I’d stay. I can’t just abandon him and Charlie,” Lucy tried desperately to explain. 

“So devoted to each other,” Lizzie sneered, shaking her head from side to side. “You don’t care who else you both hurt because of it.”

“I do care.” She took a step forward. “I do. That’s why we asked you so many times if you were sure about this, Lizzie,” her voice cracked with frustration. “Why did you say yes if you weren’t?”

Lizzie’s lips pressed together, head turning towards the windows. Lucy felt her shoulders slump. 

“Did you really expect things to change, once you got back?” That thought had been plaguing her since last night. The question. Did Lizzie plan this along? Did she intend to trap him? Did she know from the very first moment that she accepted the proposal that she was going to change her mind about letting them be together? “You know who he is, Lizzie. You’ve known for years. Did you really think that he would just transform overnight into what you wanted him to be?”

“He changed for Grace.”

“Yeah, but that was different, he–” she cut herself off sharply. He was in love with her, she had been about to say. Lizzie shot her a wounded expression. Lucy looked away. It felt like too cruel of a thing to actually speak aloud. Even if it was the truth. “Even then he couldn’t change the core of who he is,” she decided to say instead. “And if he knew you were going to change your mind, he would never have married you. You know that.”

“Yes,” Lizzie whispered. Lucy took another cautious step towards her. “I have a feeling that you’d leave, if I asked you to. If I really pushed hard enough. To try to…assuage your guilt and make things easier for him. Is that right?” 

“Probably.” She admitted, feeling a lump starting to grow in her throat. “Are you asking me to leave?”

Lizzie’s chin had dipped, face turning down to the floor. “If I did, and you left, he’d go after you. He’d bring you back home, and then he’d divorce me. Just like he would divorce me if I asked him outright to choose between you and me.” A spasm went through her chest. “I know…I know that there’s no competition between us where I’ll come out on top. Not in his eyes.”

“You’re the mother of his child,” Lucy inched a little closer to her, wanting to reach out, to touch her arm, to maybe even give her a hug. But she was too afraid that any physical contact between them would be unwelcome. 

Lizzie finally looked up at her with teary eyes. “So are you.”

“It’s not the same–”

“To him it is.” She sniffled, hands gripping at the material of her dress. “I’m not asking you to leave.”

Lucy nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can keep out of your way, if you’d prefer. I’ll stick to my wing of the house. We don’t have to eat together, or spend evenings with each other. You won’t have to see me much at all. The only thing I ask is that I get to have some time with the kids.” 

“Tommy would never agree to you being excluded like that.”

“He would if I asked him to.” He would kick up a fuss about it at first, she was sure, but in the end he’d relent. So long as it was her who asked him to do it. Fixing Lizzie with a careful look, Lucy tilted her head, bracing herself. “Is that what you want, Lizzie?”

Lizzie’s lips had started to tremble, chin wobbling. She suddenly raised a hand to her face, pressing her palm to her eyes as the tears welling in them finally spilled over. “I don’t know what I want,” she started to sob. Lucy reached out for her, touching lightly at one of her shaking shoulders. When she didn’t jerk away from the touch, she shuffled close to her, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. 

“That’s okay,” she tried to soothe, feeling a little lost as far as what to do or what sort of comfort would be welcome from her. “You don’t have to decide right now. The three of us are just going to have to feel things out for a little while. Figure out what works best for all of us.” 

Lizzie nodded, head dropping to rest in the crook of her shoulder. Lucy rubbed at her back. “I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday.”

“Don’t be. I understand. I know…I know that I don’t have nearly as much to be upset about as you do. Not even close, but, this isn’t exactly how I would have preferred for things to go either.”

Lizzie raised her head, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes. “No?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You think that I wanted to have to watch the love of my life have a family with someone else?” Her fingers squeezed around Lizzie’s arms. “You’re his wife. I’ll only ever be his mistress.” We’ll never have a full life together, she swallowed around the unspoken words and the hurt they inflicted. Despite what Tommy had said, about eventually divorcing Lizzie, she couldn’t help but be skeptical that such a thing would ever actually come to pass.

Lizzie’s hands rested on her waist very lightly, and Lucy leaned closer to her until their foreheads touched. 

“I’m sorry we can’t love you the way you want us to,” she whispered, feeling Lizzie shudder and sob a little more at the words. “But we do care about you, Lizzie. Please know that. We do care.”

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

She let her go, and Lizzie drew from her, space once more finding its way between them. Lizzie sank slowly into a nearby armchair, limbs slumping like a marionette that had just had its strings snipped. Lucy pulled out a handkerchief that she passed to her to dab at her eyes.

“Take some time to adjust,” she said as she watched her. “Maybe…maybe it’ll get better.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

She forced half a smile to pull at one side of her lips. “I’m sure that you can find some other benefits to your life as Mrs. Shelby that don’t involve me and Tommy. With just the house, the kids, and the foundation I imagine you can keep yourself quite busy.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was monotone, not full of much hope; the wall that had briefly come down while she cried in Lucy’s arms starting to rise back up. Brick after brick being placed between them.  

“Do you want me to leave you alone now?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Struck with a sudden feeling of boldness, she bent down, pressing a quick kiss to Lizzie’s forehead before doing as asked and going to the door. 

She found Tommy still in his office, just setting the phone down. He smiled when he looked up and saw her, standing and walking around his desk to meet her. 

“Where did you sneak off to?”

“I went to go talk to Lizzie.”

His smile dropped. “Oh?” At her nod, he put his arms around her. “How did it go?”

Shrugging, she rested her head on his chest. “She didn’t shout at me, so I suppose it can be considered a positive interaction.” She craned her head up to look at him. “This isn’t going to be easy for her, Tommy.”

“No,” he agreed with a sigh, kissing her forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

“She might never adjust. Not fully. This most recent conversation between us went alright, but the next could be awful with how all over the place she can be.”

“I know. It’s like living with a fucking pendulum.” He sighed, rubbing her back. “We’ll look at getting a place in London like we talked about, eh? Give us somewhere to go hide out during the times when it gets really bad.”

“Do you think that it would be better if I lived somewhere else? I could get another flat in Small Heath…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It might be worth thinking about.”

He drew back enough to cup her cheeks. “You’re staying with me. You’re living with me, wherever I am. End of discussion.”

“Stubborn mule.” But she was fighting back a fond smile.

“Oi!”

Grin blooming, she rested her chin on the center of his chest. “It’s just something to consider. If things don’t get better…”

“I’d go mad in this house without you,” he said, shaking his head, giving her a kiss and then taking her hand. “C’mon. I’ve got more calls still to make. Mr. Martenson kept me on the phone for thirty bloody minutes.”

“And what have I got to do with that?” she asked, letting him pull her along with him. He collapsed back into his chair behind his desk.

“To keep my lap warm,” he grinned, and promptly pulled her squealing into his arms to sit upon his thighs.

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[mars-ipan]

I found the bit of fanfiction you wrote there about the Priest AU..... I like it a lot, wow.. I love Hina breaking down and crying and becoming an absolute mess over these things, poor man. Pats his head. Suffer more. It's so good, jeez....

hehehehe THANK YOU NIVVVV..... i'm not used to doing like . anything creative writing based... but it was fun and i'm happy to see so many people liked it

[neverendingford]

.

[bkgsdoll]

🍮⠀⠀ notes: popular!bakugou x nerdy!reader, fluffy, college au ‿ ୧ 🍡⠀ word count: 839

everyone's either in love with bakugou or wants to be him. he always has people bombarding him with questions about his quirk or trying to get close to him. he doesnt mind the attention. bakugou carries a large amount of pride that comes along with his popularity. he's worshipped, always walking the halls with people following him.

but then theres you. a silent girl in most of his classes. you keep to yourself in your own little world for the most part with very few close friends. your seat is in front of bakugou in all of your shared lectures, and you never bothered him, not once. truth be told, he never really thought about you until a specific night.

slamming his friend's car door shut, bakugou grumbles, "you idiots." he wasted yet another good night for studying. he threw it away by partying with people he didn't even find interesting. gosh, it's already 10:30. he wouldn't be able to stay awake. but he can't just go to sleep! nono, exams are too close. he needs glue all of the information he can into his brain. kirishima had recommended getting a study buddy-- who the hell would want to actually study with bakugou?? the girls would be distracted by his "huge muscles" and "unique hair" while any guys would be begging to see his quirk in action.

fuck this! katsuki doesn't need anyones help.

that confident thought bubble changes as he walks up the stairs to the dormitories. he remembers that quiet dork in most of his classes.. you seem pretty normal for the most part. a bit of a nerd too, so he wouldn't be worried about you having the wrong shit written down. with an ashamed grunt, he decides to find your dorm.

you munch on freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, going over notes you'd gotten from yesterday's lecture. you tiredly lean back against your chair in a tiny tank top and shorts with your hair up in a claw clip. you're slightly bopping your head to the quiet music playing in the background when you hear heavy thuds of someone walking towards your room. you perk up when said person knocks on your door softly. you happily smile, thinking maybe one of your friends are stopping by. excited you made so many cookies, you hurry to the door and swing it open.

with his hands dug into his pockets and drained frown, the katsuki bakugou stands at your door.. odd. "oh!" you squealed, your hand covering your mouth. "sorry, just-- wasn't expecting you." you nervously rub your arm, leaning against the door frame.

he lazily raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "you expectin' someone?"

you shake your head. "nope.." you mutter with an awkward smile. bakugou eyes you up and down quickly, quietly clearing his throat at the small amount of clothing adorning your body. you bite your lip embarrassedly while averting your gaze. "you wanna come in?" you chirp, stepping to the side. he lets out a soft hum of confirmation, taking big strides into your dorm before you shut the door behind him. he walks over to your desk to observe your neatly written notes. "i need someone to study with-- you aren't stupid or anythin' right?" he cocks a brow, turning his head to look at you.

you hum lightly. "mm no, i dont think so.."

the scruffy boy plops down in your heart-shaped chair, flipping through the pages you had spent such precious time working on. you fiddle with your fingers shyly, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch bakugou. "..do you want a cookie?" you politely ask, pointing towards the plate on your desk, walking towards him. his head turned to where your finger was pointing.

his eyes flicker to the plate, hesitantly taking a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and biting into it. it was soft and chewy-- and warm. his crimson eyes brighten a little, just a little. "'s not bad. would be better with coffee." he stares at the bitten cookie, cupping his other under the treat, careful not to make a mess. your bubbly self returns, offering a sweet smile. "coffee coming up!"

that day was the first of many of you and katsuki spending time together. you were never around people too often, yet alone someone as popular and liked as bakugou. and as for him, he thought you were decently likeable. you made him feel good about himself without talking about his quirk or giant pecs. you also never asked if he had a girlfriend or if he was free next friday night. you were just you.

you had talked more than he anticipated. that night, bakugou found himself quiet while you blabbed about whatever came into your head, and he didn't mind it at all. even after that study session and hanging out numerous times, you're still that one quiet nerd in the classroom. only he gets to see the chatty side of you-- and he likes that. makes him feel special.

[specshroom]

*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic, I mean.... Magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Alright! Alright."

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight little-"

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best mates.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please."

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

You reach down to gently hold his massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling this human pussy up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

[lndsismaeverything]

Lnds reaction breaking the bed

An: hope y'all enjoy ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡

Not proofread and kinda bit awkward at writing smut is I can't really write smut.... ゜:(つд⊂):゜。

When the bed broke, sylus continue pounding into your tight pussy . You try to stop him

" s-sylus...ah- STOP the bed! " but you let it go, as you are too lost in the pleasure .The bed wasn't important right now, you are sylus though

Sylus groans as the both reached your high very soon. Coming deep inside you filling you up to the brim, letting his cum ooze out of you

Sylus breathes heavily , seeing the mess he made out of u and the state of bed . He chuckled loudly.

He pulled out of you slowly and lean towards you " hope this is rough enough for you , sweetie . We went too hard and broke the bed, again . " he whisper to your ear

Yes, you and sylus went so hard that broke the bed again

" what will the salesman think if we go to buy a new bed the 4th time this month?"

Feeling the blood rush towards your face , you smack his chest feeling embarrassed

When the both of you hear a crack both of you stop what you where doing .

You try to calm your heavy breath, and get off zayne . Slowly sliding off of him

Zayne hisses at the cold air hits his cock as slides off you warm cunt

Zayne inspect the bed as see a crack on the side of the bed it wasn't that bad is a small repair .

" this is an easy fix " you said bending down to inspect it

" it's no use to repair it. I'll just buy a new one. A sturdy one that won't break . Even when you're riding me "

" shall we continue on the rocking chair? "You just shyly nodded, zayne just took your hand and lead you to the living room where the rocking chair is

You guys where way in to it that y'all didn't hear the bed leg got broken. Too focused on reaching your high.

When the both of you guys settled down, Xavier dick still snuggle in your cunt. you notice the bed being a bit tilted.

" is it me or is the bed leaning down?" You asked Xavier. But all you hear are Xavier soft snores, he was too tired down and fell asleep and you soon joined in.

" so the bed did broke " Xavier hold one of the bed legs for you to see which you frowned.

" now we have an excuse to buy that super soft and ultra comfy bed on the advertisement ''

" if the bed broke that means the neighbor must have heard us" you said as now your thinking how you can face your neighbors without feeling ashamed and the fact that there will be a broken bed on the dumpster adding more fuel to the fire

When the both of u fell from a angle because Rafayel was trusting hard from behind you into ur tight pussy so rough because of how the whole bed shook two bed legs broke off

The bed might as well be a rocking bed at the time when Rafayel filled you up before the bed broke.

" are you hurt? " you hear Rafayel concern voice, checking for any injuries bofore gently lifting you up

" yea I'm ok but I think we broke the bed "you point at the bed, after hearing that Rafayel immediately turned to the bed looking at the two broken legs.

At first his ears reded feeling a bit ashamed for manhandling you but that quickly turned into confidence and feeling proud . Breaking the bed boosted his ego for sure.

" guess I was too good at making my cutie feel good that the bed couldnt handle it"

[ssahotchnerr]

fluffy aaron request !! reader is on a date that is going so bad when she gets called in for a case so she shows up in her like fancy date outfit and confides in hotch about her horrible date then he offers to make it up to her and takes her out when they get back <3 maybe there’s some room for slight jealous!aaron in there somewhere tehe

it's a date

there's always room for jealous!aaron 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, mutual pining, a touch of nervous and jealous!aaron, brief standard cm case info, fluff <3

You were the last one to arrive at the BAU, departing from the far side of town and evening traffic to blame.

Consequently, you pulled stares the second you arrived within the roundtable room. Your presence was anticipated, for one, the sound of your heels clacking against the hard floor, and:

A low whistle exited Morgan.

"Look at you." He tossed out, a tickled grin spread wide across his face.

Your current attire was a dress; a fancier, slightly more risqué choice compared to your typical office wardrobe. It was a light beige, your hair was down your back in loose curls, makeup more enhanced than your usual routine. Aaron had to (internally) admit, you looked stunning.

"Hot date?"

"You could say that."

Aaron felt his jaw move. Clench, actually.

"Sorry for cutting your night short." He apologized, forcing his sentence out deep from inside his chest. He turned towards the screen, concealing himself.

"On the contrary," You eased yourself into your chair, eagerly accepting a file from Emily. "Thank you for cutting my night short."

"With this one, you may want to rethink that sunshine." Penelope clicked her remote, illuminating the screen with the latest case photos. "Ain't no rest for the wicked."

The team collectively ran through it quickly; a brutal family annihilator, decreasing cooling off period, the gravity of the situation heightening and a panicked town. Wheels up in 30 to Oklahoma.

As the others trailed out, Penelope hurrying to her bat cave, Aaron slowed his pace. He prolonged securing his files into his briefcase, zipping it shut, leaving only the two of you in the room.

Coincidentally, you weren't in too much of a rush either.

"That bad?"

You huffed in response as your eyes found his. He was met with a hardened, utter annoyance, instead of your familiar warm liveliness.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about." The bottom of your files hit the surface of the table, loudly, stacking the few evenly together. "The guy sucked. Interrupted me every second he could. I don't think the restaurant he picked was up to code either. Thank goodness I got the call before our food arrived." You shuddered lightly, in theatrics but also genuineness. "I'm greatly looking forward to pretending it never happened."

There was a carefree airiness within your voice - attempting to wave it off, the simple acceptance of one night gone bad - but small dismay was amongst your words.

"I'm sorry." While Aaron meant his apology wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but feel relieved, for his own selfish reasons. "But I am glad you narrowly escaped the potential food poisoning."

That pulled a laugh from you, agreeing. "But it's fine, really. I didn't want to go anyways, don't know why I did." You shrugged as you disrupted the continual, shared eye contact. While the tail end of your sentence was spoken lowly, it wasn't long lasting, picking up some enthusiasm. "How was your night going?"

"Jack and I were just settling down to watch a movie."

"Which one?"

"Shrek."

Your head tilted exasperatedly, face pulling into jealousy. "Really? How fun." You whined gently, wishing your night could have been spent with the two of them. Your preferred choice of company.

"Well, he wasn't too happy it was cut short." Aaron admitted, a loose, downhearted chuckle escaping.

"You'll make it up to him. Perhaps a multiple movie feature when we're back? Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third... maybe order some pizza too." You suggested, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly with a gentle smile. "No matter, he'll be thrilled."

Sourcing from your touch, lightning bolts dashed within his arm, feverishly. Aaron soon found himself simply studying your face, falling on the silent side. You were just, you. Extraordinarily kind, beautiful you.

"C'mon, Dave told me if I was late to the tarmac once more, he'd tell the pilot to leave and I'd have to take a commercial." You joked. Although, a small part of you feared he'd stick to his promise.

"Yeah, like I'd let that happen." He rolled his eyes, amusedly shaking his head.

The bullpen was quiet; most had gone home, the overheard lights had dimmed, the team long out of earshot. As the two of you neared the glass doors - Aaron leading - there was an urgency heightening in his chest, mere seconds away from bursting. As if each step forward, he was losing precious time. Any hesitations on the temptations he had felt for months dissolved. Now or never.

"What about you?" He asked, sweetly but timidly, finding a sudden interest in the floor.

"What about me?"

"Who's going to make it up to you?"

"Well," That caught you in a bit of surprise, your feet halting. Aaron turned, his eyes lifting. "That's a million dollar question right there. I don't see anyone lining up to take me on some extravagant outing, do you?" You forced out a laugh, your cheeks fairly blushing.

"Maybe," Aaron replied, his voice wavering with a touch of nervousness. It was rather endearing, seeing him so adorably flustered. "Perhaps the person you're looking for is right in front of you. Figuratively, at that."

A rather charmed expression formed on your face. Eyes brightening, lips pursing upwards, "Are you asking me out?"

"I'm trying." He confessed, his boyish expression just as light as yours. "So, tell me. How am I doing?"

"How about this," You spoke slowly, attempting to suppress the butterflies in your own stomach, hoping to maintain some composure within your answer. "Your next available night after your movie marathon with Jack, I'm completely and all yours."

All yours. He could get used to that.

"It's a date."

[itachiiwrites]

He wanted them three rounds, DC had to come help him

Pairings: Established relationship, bf!gojo, reader is AFAB, a little lovesick gojo, he's overworked :(

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, freaky!gojo, marathon sex, p in v, (multiple) creampies and orgasms, squirting, feral gojo, sex in general.

Gojo Satoru is a freak..

Rumors about him being an absolute slut is true, but there is no bigger example than Satoru who is a slut and a virgin, a walking contradiction, before he met you.

Satoru looks at you in almost apprehensiveness when you give him a soft gaze at the revelation. This wasn't a look of disappointment, it looked like....pity. And Satoru hated being pitied more than anything.

He's a little embarrassed, although you reassure him that it's something you will never care about.

"You are literally juggling too many things with barely three hours of sleep, and virginity is a social construct anyway.." You shrug, looking up at him hovering over you, his tip nuzzled between the ingress of your sopping pussy, and oh how he thought that the pity would make his cock soft but it didn't, it just made it harder. It was a little pathetic, the way his cock was so easy that mere words of care and tenderness and acknowledgement for his furious schedule has got him rock solid, with the pearls of his precum clustering on the exterior of your sweet cunt. He was that love starved.

It took everything to not give your pussy mauling thrusts already, he was never the one to talk about how he indeed wanted a break sometimes and he wouldn't even now, especially being this horny and excited that he felt like a dog in heat. He had more than a good idea of how to go on about it, he had seen it in the bad porno that never appealed to him.

"Sweetheart..just let me put it in, I feel like my cock is gonna explode..I don't want to think of a bunch of blobs that I exorcise, not very hot.." He chuckled cheekily, leaning into your cheek, looking at you with the periphery of his eyes with a lecherous gaze, planting hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw and neck while he ached.

"Always a brat.." You sighed, grabbing his endowed cock from the base, pushing it into your velvety walls with a look of challenge and amusement laced onto your face.

After that, all hell broke lose. There was nothing that would stop Gojo Satoru now, not even if he was to be kept caged within his infinity. He would break it, just to discern your sweet, sweet cunt.

The challenge that was plastered onto your face just vanished, your assumption that Satoru would stop just after the first round with the orgasm that hit him with the speed of light, which made him finish so fast that it was deplorable, was so so wrong. He went on, and on and on.

And Gojo Satoru was innately confident, the fact that this was his first time didn't matter. He was always explorative, always excessive. Bold of you to assume he understood the concept of moderation.

"O-oh..fuckk..Toru.." You looked up to him with your glassy, nearly red rimmed eyes from the nth orgasm of the night, your cloying moans just made him keep going. Your was pussy puffy and clit violently engorged after being fucked this thoroughly.

"U-uh-huh..yeah, you like that..fuuuck baby, look at you.." He cooed with a feral grin on his lips as he steadily moved his hips, keeping your legs hoisted up on his shoulders, getting the hang of it. His hip movements no longer uncoordinated. He had always been a fast learner. He stills his hips with a series of whimpers as he came with hot white, thick ropes into your womb, pulling out with a lewd pop that spilled the cum stuffed inside down to your ass. You moaned softly, hazy and a little disoriented as your fluttering pussy pushed it all out.

He hummed at the sight, tapping and massaging his now agitatingly red tip onto your clit, he himself could feel his brain seem afloat, reverberating to take you again even after the multiple orgasms. He was dead set.

He hissed softly with widened eyes, in surprise and amusement, a full blown throaty laugh echoing his throat when you squirted, gushing out like a dam. He vigorously rubbed his sensitive cock on your sloshing pussy, his cock unbearably hard again. He was hooked, addicted. To you.

He grasped your hips, pulling you forward which made you mewl at the suddenness. He pressed his hefty weight on your body, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. If he had a laceration on his brain from the way this image of you burned in his head, sprawled underneath him, all flushed, sweaty and a mess, just for him. He would die rather than using his RCT.

"God baby..you washed my cum away, gonna hafta, fill you up again.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagarism not authorised.

m.list!

[hyhkai]

camboy! | c.yj.

[ 🎥 ] — after yeonjun's rise in the porn industry, an interview was something he agreed to for fun. however, after he saw you, the interviewer, he wished it was a fake interview where he gets to fuck you.

cw : pornstar!yeonjun. unedited word vomit fictional magazine company that apparently also exists in real life.

a/n ; i apologize for my sins i swear I'll change 🙏🏼 and this is a drabble, not a fic! i might turn it into one over time ♡

after you reached out to him a few weeks ago with greetings and compliments, and asking can I interview you some time? I'd like to know what it's like to be a person who earns through the adult industry, and with your fame, I know that you're just the right person., his first, honest reaction was to laugh. i mean, seriously?

he was laughing at the irony of the fact that he was being interviewed. i mean, who was willing enough to take out time of their busy, hectic schedule to interview a man who earns bread by having a dildo inside of him? he had to know. he wanted to know what this person was like.

he did think that this could be completely false and you could be a potential threat, trying to lure him into your little cage with cheese like he's a fucking rat, capture him and do bad things to him like he'd heard with various nefarious acts of people against people with 'easy' fame.

"can I get proof that you're actually an interviewer?"

to which he immediately got a response with a photo of a xerox copy of your identification document, namely at a popular company called mode de vie. he could see the black and white ink that framed the photo stuck on the top right corner, and he knew that he had to see that fucking face in real life. if that's how you look in a awfully captured picture, so captivating, bold, and confidence outlining your eyes in the form of sharp eyeliner, he had to see that face in front of him, asking him questions about his body count or something else he doesn't give two shits about.

he'd said sure to your offer almost immediately now that he saw that it was a real interviewer after him. and now that it was time, he drove to the place where you both agreed to be at — a café which was relatively close to his house and your office.

"I'm glad you came!" you said as you shook his hand that would eventually get sweaty from just sitting opposite to you. what the fuck? he seriously considered telling you to quit this stupid, serious job and just join him in his public sex life. you were stunning.

now that he saw your hair open, framing your face, and that fucking sharp-ass eyeliner, he was mad that he didn't dress up nicely and instead came in a hoodie. who wants to miss a chance of getting a baddie?

he thanked the lords he'd long forgotten when you told him this is just an audio based interview which will later be turned into a text format.

while you continued asking him questions about everything, from "fuck-a-fan" to "how did your mother find out?", he'd needed to ask you to repeat your questions several times. his eyes kept drifting down, down to your chest.

'why the fuck are you wearing a top so low-cut? is it to provoke me or something?' he'd think. he legitimately wants to put his hand on the table, pushing himself towards you and grabbing one of your tits. it's pissing him off he can't.

okay, so maybe he was a pervert like one of his friends liked to say. but it wasn't his fault when you were asking him questions about his sex life while looking at him with those eyes that were possibly tearing his clothes off.

in his world, that is.

'do you want to fuck me too, or am I trippin'?'

he knew he had to keep his filthy hands, his filthy thoughts, to himself. c'mon, it's a fucking interview, yeonjun. grow up. you've had plenty of girls and guys to fuck in your life. from small and petite, to taller than you. from fucking someone to getting fucked. you've done it all. why are you so captivated by this woman?

maybe it was the way you had your makeup done that had him wishing he could see it smeared all over with a new makeup product; his cum, or maybe it was your tits that were practically begging to be the thing he shoves his face in tonight. but no, it was the way you carried yourself.

there was this... this aura, this radiation of confidence that was magnetic enough for him to be pulled to you.

under the table, he was practically going to rub one out. he kept adjusting his pants, kept palming his dick that was straining against his pants and standing up against his thoughts of not fucking you ever.

ugh, just how fucking good you'd look on his bed, and he swears he could go above his rounds per fucking streak of 4 with you; from classic missionary to the amazon position, from sixty-nine to his foot on your face while he fucked your ass from the back. fuck, he'd even let you peg him, something he's always refused to do.

just how good you'd look while sliding your strap-on inside of him, his eyes going wide, as well as your smile at the sight of his pretty face. he thinks you'd like some crazy songs playing in the background, similar to the vibe of playboi carti.

fuck, he'd hold onto your tits for support, comfort, for just the fucks of it no matter who is topping.

"um, excuse me?" you asked when he spaced out in the middle.

"yeah?" he said, looking up from the table where both of your milkshakes resided.

"thank you for the interview. i appreciate it a lot!" you said, smiling at him, completely unaware of the junk he had in his brain about you. you put out your hand for a friendly yet professional handshake.

"oh, yeah, of course." he muttered out, responding to your hand with his that was definitely sweaty.

as you closed your notepad and stopped the recording, he looked up at your face finally.

"can I ask you a question too?"

"oh, yes, of course." you said, looking up at him with a face of genuine curiosity. maybe it would be something like —

"when will this be posted?"

"where can I read it?"

"will there be a hardcopy?"

"would you ever fuck me if you could?"

and suddenly, this was the first time you regretted not recording the aftermath of an interview.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[specialagentartemis]

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[giannaln4]

Make You Feel Better

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando wasn't feeling the best after a long day of media duties, but he could always count on you to make him feel better. (915 words)

warnings: mdni, + 18, smut, unprotected sex, needy!lando

a/n: heyy everyone! sorry for disappearing after posting literally just one fic, but with uni and then summer i didn't really find the time to write but i'm working on a few fics right now! anyway please send some requests!

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

Some days were better than others, and Lando always tried to be positive around you, but today just wasn’t his day. He had a long day; media day wasn’t his favourite, too many people to talk to, cameras all around at all times, and on top of that, he was feeling a little under the weather. 

It’s not like he always felt that way, it was a part of his duties and he liked to meet fans. He loved seeing the people that supported him unconditionally so happy just by seeing him. He knew he had to do it anyway, but the triple header was getting to him, and it was only the second weekend.

He dragged himself back into his hotel, dragging his feet out of the elevator and through the hallways. He wasn’t expecting to see you awake, still waiting for him, but he was almost relieved when he spotted you sitting in his bed.

“Hi” You happily greeted him when he entered the room, putting your phone down to pay attention to him.

“Hi” He replied, not as happy as you. You could easily see that he was having a bad day. 

He dropped his bag next to the door and made his way to the bed, collapsing in your arms as soon as he got there. “Bad day” was all he said and you didn’t push it any further. You let him settle in your arms, rubbing his back as you both sink into the mattress.

“It’s okay, baby. You should get some rest, I know you haven’t been sleeping as much as you are supposed to” 

He shook his head into your chest “I had something else in mind”

“Go on” You knew where this was going, and honestly you couldn’t complain.

“I was thinking, uh- you could help me feel better” His voice was a little hesitant, but his hands were confident when they found your hips, squeezing them as if he was trying to give you a hint of what he wanted.

“Yeah? How?”

“I need you, please”

You smile down at him, suddenly needy for him “Is that what you want?”

He nodded desperately, and he immediately lifted his head and reached for your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. It started rough and passionate, you could barely catch your breath. You climbed into his lap, placing your knees to his sides.

“How do you want me?” You managed to ask in between kisses.

“Ride me”

As soon as he said that you got up, taking a step back and slowly undressing in front of him. “Are you gonna keep your clothes?”

“Uh- no” He quickly got rid of them, keeping his eyes on you the entire time.

You were both naked, and you returned to your previous position on his lap. After a moment of making out, you softly pushed him into the mattress and leaned down to meet his lips again.

“Want me to help you feel better? You had a bad day so you need me to ride you?” Lando’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly, bucking his hips up.

You shook your head, pulling away “Words, Lando”

“Yes. Baby, please” He begged, his hands on your hips again.

You smirk, satisfied with his answer. He was still holding onto your hips as you began to get comfortable on top of him, he then placed his hands on your tits, massaging them softly as you started to stroke his needy cock. He let out a loud moan at your touch.

Your pussy was soaking wet, brushing up against his thigh. The contact made you moan softly and you couldn't help but put more pressure, relieving your need a little bit. You kept rubbing your core against him as he let out soft whimpers, your hand still stroking him, but the relief you were giving him wasn’t nearly enough. “Please, baby” Lando moaned as you placed your hands on his stomach.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me”

That was all you needed to hear, so you situated yourself and slowly sank down on his cock. He moaned loudly, and your hands moved up to his chest, as you began to roll your hips. His hands moved to your hips again as his own bucked up into you, making you whimper as loud as he was.

“You always make me feel so good” He cried out.

Your mind was too focused on your own pleasure you didn’t even answer him. You continued moving, a string of moans of his name leaving your lips. He was deep, deep inside of you and he just hit that place where you both feel incredibly good. 

“Fuck” Lando said with furrowed brows, his cheeks red and forehead full of sweat. His curls were stuck to his forehead, making him incredibly sexy. “I’m gonna cum,” he said when he started to get that feeling in his lower abdomen.

You didn’t say anything but you picked up your pace, bringing Lando even closer to his orgasm. It didn’t take long for him to shoot his release inside you, making you come closer to your own release.

He moaned your name repeatedly, and you collapsed on his chest when your mindblowing orgasm finally hit you. You were barely moving your hips now, dusting off your high.

You finally stopped moving and you stayed like that for a while, catching your breath as your cheek was pressed on his chest.

“Feel better, baby?”

“Yeah”

[xxgoldie]

ns/fw ramblings - minors dni

ik we all like to imagine lighter as some sort of sex god - it comes with the territory of a confident n hot male character. but the more I think abt how much of a down-bad dork he is, the more the idea of him being a virgin, or at least having very little experience, is so so delicious to me. like, he could absolutely fuck if he wanted to, he canonically has fangirls, but he's a sap and he wants to wait for the right person. not to say he isn't horny - he fs watches porn and his head is full of fantasies.

imagine your relationship reaching that point, messily making out while you grind on his lap, both of you in nothing but your underwear. being able to touch all of you like this, the feeling of your clothed crotch rubbing against his, the soft little noises you made when your clit pressed against him - all infinitely better than his wildest fantasies, and he doesn't think to stop you until its already too late and he's cumming in his boxers with a stuttered groan.

he hadn't told you it was his first time. he had meant to, but things got hot and heavy before he got the chance, and he didn't exactly know how to slip it into conversation when you were taking your shirt off. it certainly looked like you were putting the pieces together now, a brief silence falling over you as you realised what had happened.

"lighter, did you just-" "i. i am so sorry-" "hey, don't apologise. are you okay?"

you aren't mad, visibly more surprised than disappointed, but even as you reassure him, his thoughts spiral. he finally found his person, finally felt ready to do this, and he'd gone and fucked it up. your sweet words fly in one ear and out the other, only making him feel more guilty that you were being so nice about it. he wanted to make you feel good, recreate all his late-night fantasies where fucked you until you couldn't think about anything but the feel of him, catering to your pleasure over and over again - you deserved that. yet here he was, falling apart at your slightest touch.

he only really snaps out of it when you kiss him, feather-light against his lips. your finger is tracing soft patterns against his bare chest, the feeling grounding him.

"trust me, love, its okay. i'll take it as a compliment."

there's a slight teasing glint in your eye - not making fun of him, but showing him this wasn't a big deal. when you kiss him again, he deepens it, as if he's trying to push all his scrambled thoughts of love and devotion from his mind to yours. your hips had been hovering over his, but you lowered yourself back into his lap as the rhythm of your tongues intensified. he almost felt relieved when he felt his dick twitch back to life.

"i really am sorry, baby." "i told you, you have nothing to apologise for. besides-" you wiggled your hips a little, drawing a sensitive hiss from his lips "-it feels like you're getting ready to make it up to me."

it may be an awkward start to his first time, but when he finally feels you sink down onto him, lighter feels like he's just found a heaven he's been waiting his whole life for. you feel impossibly good around him, but he thinks that even if his dick was numb, he could cum just from watching you - your low whine as he fills you up, the way your whole body tenses at the stretch then relaxes into pleasure, how you have to brace against his chest when he starts to thrust up into you.

he doesn't last long this time, either - any stamina he had built up by jacking off was for naught when you felt so much better than his hand. but he's so eager to please, a newfound addiction to the way your hips buck and eyes roll back. he makes you cum with his fingers, experimenting to see what makes you tick, eyes roaming your body and logging every little twitch and keen, confidence skyrocketing every time you praise him or beg for more. he's a fast learner - he has to be, he wants to see you fall apart like that over and over and over again.

(okay this turned out WAY longer than I intended it to be but I'm brainrotting so hard abt him, like can you blame me. also this is completely unedited and i wrote it one go lmao)

[auroralwriting]

clean 1

tfatws! bucky barnes x stark! reader (no use of y/n)

after the fight with john walker, you can tell bucky's arm was bothering him. so, you make a trip to see him.

word count: 1.6k | warnings: strong language, multiple parts, part two

Your suit was practically scarp metal after the fight with John Walker. He had tried his hardest to absolutely obliterate your suit. Thankfully, Tony had done a great job of designing it. With a few hours of repairs, it would be good as new.

The one thing you worried about was Bucky's arm, specifically the metal one. You saw how Walker had thrown Bucky across the room into wiring, causing it to shock Bucky's whole body. It made you uneasy to think about wether or wether not the arm was in tact, that and the fact that if it wasn't, it could very well lead to a lot of pain for Bucky.

So, using Friday, you found Bucky's new address. He'd taken residence in a small apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully, not too far from where you were reclaiming the Stark Tower. One car ride later, and you stood outside Bucky's apartment feeling more nervous than you thought you would be.

While Bucky and you weren't on bad terms, it was fair to say he was still uneasy around you. I mean, he had killed your parents, and your only living relative (minus the small Morgan) was also dead. You'd been a baby when The Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria, so how could there be any bad blood between you and Bucky? You didn't even know what you had lost. That and you were more down-to-earth than Tony, realizing quickly the guilt and shame Bucky felt for his mind-controlled actions.

Using up the last bit of confidence you had, you knocked on Bucky's door. It took less than a minute, and Bucky's surprised face was staring back at you.

"Uhm, hi," You said awkwardly.

"How'd you know where I live?" Bucky asked, confused.

You held up your phone, Friday's screen appearing. "Just a quick scan of all James Buchanan Barnes in the area. Not very many," Your joke fell flat as you stood awkwardly while Bucky processed what was happening.

"Why're you here?" He asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fight with Walker." You replied. "I saw you get thrown into all those wires, I saw all the sparks."

Bucky gave a small shrug, "I'm alright."

You eyed his arm suspiciously, "That arm causing you any pain?"

Both eyes now fell on Bucky's arm. You looked back up to Bucky to see him staring at it still. "It's been better," He sighed, his reply honest.

"I can fix it if you'd like?" You suggested. Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head at your words, "Or not!" You quickly added. "I, uh, don't want to make you feel weird..er than you probably already do."

Bucky went to move his arm, and you saw the traces of pain etched into his features. "It'll be alright."

"Our fight isn't over yet, Bucky." You argued. "You should be at your best." You took a deep breath in, finding more confidence from deep within, "I promise I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. I mean, Tony literally had a hunk of metal plunged in his chest, and he made me clean it out all the time, it was really gross and-"

"Alright, alright," Bucky held his hands up. "I don't wanna hear about Tony's gross chest-hole. Just, come on in." The door opened all the way as Bucky walked inside. You trailed behind, slowly shutting the door behind you as you observed the apartment. It was really empty, just a small couch and a coffee table in front of it. The kitchen looked rather bare, too.

You took a seat on the couch, Bucky sitting next to you. You set your toolbox down in between the both of you, putting some space between your bodies.

"I need to see the connection point, if you don't mind?" You said softly, looking to Bucky's covered shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," He muttered as he hesitantly slipped off his shirt. You quickly noticed the healing scars on his shoulder, all around the joint, but you made sure to pay no attention to them as you hovered your hand over his arm. "It's fine," He said, watching your hesitantcy.

The metal was cool on your hands as you felt around it, looking for the weak point. Once you found it, you grabbed your tools and began to work at it. You weren't used to working in silence, so you tried to make some conversation.

"Steve, uh, used to tell me a lot about you." You said. Bucky raised a brow at you as you continued. "You were his knight in shining armor, or something of the sorts."

"I guess I was," Bucky gave the smallest hint of a smile. "How'd you learn how to do this anyways?"

You shrugged as you grabbed a new tool, "Tony taught me everything I know. Engineering, chemistry, physics, you name it."

"It must've been hard, just you two." Bucky said softly.

Looking up, you shook your head, "Don't start that," You said.

"But it's my fault-"

"For the last time, Bucky, that was the Winter Soldier, not you. I do not blame you, there's no reason to keep hurting yourself over this." You cut Buck off, voice slightly sharp with intention. Bucky's eyes fell on the other side of the room as you sighed, "Tony would have forgiven you, too. He just needed time."

Bucky scoffed, "He had five years."

"Of which we were gone," You countered. "I forgive you for him and myself, okay?"

“Don’t say that,” Bucky shook his head. “Just.. don’t?”

You set down your tool, staring at him. “Do you want proof?”

This gained Bucky’s interest, “Proof?” He asked, voice laced with doubt. “What proof?”

“Who do you think protected your whereabouts in Wakanda?” You asked, “Steve and Sam were on the run. Of course Tony knew you were there. I remember when he got the call. He just sat there for a while, thinking. When we talked about it, he said he was glad you were getting help.”

“What else did he say?” Bucky said with a knowing look in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s Tony, Buck. He says anything and everything and means almost none of it.” Bucky didn’t expect you to use his nickname. He liked the sound of it coming from your voice.

“That doesn’t mean he forgave me.” Bucky said.

“Well I do, okay? So stop being such a grump. I’m trying to be your friend, just let me, would you?” You sighed as you began to work on his arm again.

The soldier gave a small sigh, “Stop wasting your time on me when you have a company to run.”

“Stop trying to push me away. Also, Pepper’s helping me run it, so I have all the time in the world.” You argued.

After a brief moment of silence, Bucky spoke again. “I’m still not sure I’m safe to be around,”

The honesty surprised you, making you glance up at him to observe his face. “I’m literally face to face with your arm, tool inside it, and you wanna say you aren’t safe?”

Your comment made Bucky give a small chuckle, “That’s not really what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked.

Bucky gave a shaky breath, “In Madripoor, when I had to take down those guys when I was pretending to be.. him,” Bucky explained, “It’s like I could still feel him trying to break free.”

You set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, making sure to avoid his scars. “Bucky, Wankanda said you’re a free man. The Winter Soldier’s gone.”

“Maybe I’m just so used to violence now.” Bucky offered, “Maybe it’s who I am.”

“No,” You replied quickly. “You are Bucky Barnes. You’re Steve’s best friend, Sergeant Barnes. You’re Sam’s friend, my friend, and you’re a survivor. You’re one hell of a fighter, you’re a victim who pushed through all his pain and suffering to become a better man, and that’s exactly who you are.” Your words left Bucky feeling like he could cry, but he just looked away. You didn’t know whether what you said was right or wrong.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered as you began to work on his arm again.

“It’s no problem, Bucky.” You responded. You silently worked, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Bucky’s eyes poring holes into your head.

"This world doesn't deserve you," Bucky muttered as you worked. You simply hummed in reply, making Bucky's forehead crease. "I mean it, Stark. You're one of the best people in this world."

Rolling your eyes, you put away the last of your tools. "Bucky, I'm just being a decent person."

Bucky's eyes burned with a new passion, "No decent person would do all you've done for everyone you've ever come across." Before you could protest, Bucky's metal hand grabbed your chin softly. "Don't even try to argue, I know it can be hard for a Stark but can you hold your tongue?" When you didn't reply, Bucky continued. "You're so humble, so fuckin' sweet. I mean, you came all this way just to fix my arm."

"And to check on you," Your voice came out babbled as Bucky's hold on your chin was still present.

"I don't deserve your kindness," Bucky admitted, "But here you are, giving me all of it." His eyes bore into your own, his own actions betraying his mind as he slammed his lips tightly onto your own. It took you by surprise, but you happily returned the heated kiss as Bucky's hand slithered behind your neck.

"You deserve all of it, the whole world," You mumbled as you pulled away breathlessly. "The world did you dirty, and I'll be the one to wash you of it." With your words, Bucky felt his eyes water as he kissed you passionately again.

Once you pulled apart, Bucky wiped your lips with his thumb, a small smile on his lips. "Does that mean you're gonna stick around?"

"Yeah," you giggled, "I think it does."