#i wonder if he knew. he couldn’t have not known. worst part of all it was that i didnt even really like him like that after the first six

[juniestar]

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on my high school crush. It was this hugeee devastating thing to me bc I’d grown up w the guy and it was this torch I carried for three years so publicly and for no reason other than to have a hobby, though it started with what I still think was genuine chemistry (or the potential for it), and coming out of it made me shut off that part of myself almost entirely bc I thought I just became an issue when I felt that sort of affection but it’s all so crazy! I was mentioning this to my therapist as like blah blah blah I didn’t date growing up, I got a huge crush on my friend and I knew I didn’t have a chance so I pushed him away and he got a girlfriend and we didn’t really talk after that but I kept the crush isn’t that so weird, and she was like “wait no you did have a chance. You were friends and you pushed him away to retreat into fantasy but you could’ve tried to actually go after him or even just maintained the friendship after his relationship began.” And that’s been ringing in my head for a MONTH because it’s true and he and I weren’t even fully friends but we had the potential to be like we had inside jokes we admired each other’s work and I just cut any chance of that off because I was so freaked! I can distinctly recall myself avoiding chances at connecting! I wish I’d pursued that friendship I don’t think it would’ve been a big important thing or that we would’ve been close but I think it would’ve at least been nice

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Looks like requests are open. Mind if I send one in?

Scenario: Their presence felt comforting to you despite everything that went down. You felt safe to open up about your insecurities to them also. Arguments are an inevitable part of any relationship, but this argument was probably the worst one you've had by far. In the heat of the argument they insult you on the very things you're insecure about. And your reaction to that was a tearful "Thanks for basically confirming that I really can't trust anybody."

How would Vil, Riddle, Jamil, and Azul react to this?

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, a man who was careful about allowing his weaknesses to see the light of day, knew he had taken advantage of your trust. It was only natural for him, a born businessman who had started from the bottom and was now securely at the top, to use every bit of information he had on you to prove a point; to get the upper hand in an argument that truly didn’t matter.  He had always fought to change his ways, to have his defenses up constantly, to not have his heart protected by reinforced walls, but it felt like an impossible task for someone like him.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil was the king of self-sabotage. At certain points it seemed he created his own obstacles, tossing them in the path of your blossoming relationship and becoming frustrated when it took even more effort to remove them. He tended to avoid arguments as much as he could but there were times, especially when he was in a foul mood, where he couldn’t help but feel the spark of anger and take it out on you. You can’t say you’d ever expected to hear such horrible things from him, the attack so direct it was unmistakable that he was trying to hurt you beyond recognition. You wondered if the relationship would even be salvageable after this as it wasn’t the first time Jamil had tested your trust, and even as he looked full of regret he bit his tongue, creating yet another hurdle that may truly be impossible to overcome this time.

Riddle Rosehearts:

It’s all Riddle’s ever known. It was like falling back on an old habit you thought you kicked, filling him with guilt, embarrassment, and every horrifying emotion in between. It made him sick to his stomach to think that he was becoming his mother, the woman he had admired for so long before realizing the methods she used were cruel and unfair to him. He didn’t want to be her but it seemed a piece of her remained within him, not sure how to apologize to you if you could even forgive him for his harsh words. He valued your trust more than anything and it was an admitted weakness on his part that his temper got the better of him, but he had only said those things to hurt you in the way he was hurting, not meaning a bit of what he said.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil was normally level-headed, with many of your arguments handled in a mature manner that left no open-ended questions. He disliked fighting but he there are some things he can’t help but get irritated over, and it can be difficult to rise to his standards at times. It almost felt like he was keeping a tally of every time you messed up or upset him as he had examples on hand to bring up, thoroughly ‘winning’ the argument to the detriment of your relationship. You had always worried you weren’t enough for him and words from his own mouth seemed to be prove that was the case, leaving you to shakily pack your things as you needed time away from him. If it proved a better existence, you couldn’t say you’d ever come back, a fear Vil had to live with as you refused to respond to his texts or calls while you gathered your thoughts.

[rispwr]

If i were you i'd do me - JK - MDNI - 1

pairingsfuckboy! jk x fem! reader, established relationship, mentions of smart! namjoon x oc, slow burn

contents/warnings rich! oc, fuckboy! jk, rich! jk, slight love triangle

taglist> comment if yall wanna be added

contextJungkook, the notorious campus heartbreaker and player, unexpectedly becomes your groupmate alongside Namjoon, the guy you’ve secretly admired for ages. However, it seems your feelings have started shifting from Namjoon to someone else entirely unexpected…

two or three part series

The lecture hall buzzed with low murmurs and the shuffling of papers as students settled into their seats. I sat quietly, tapping my pen against the edge of my notebook, my thoughts drifting in and out as I half-listened to the professor’s voice at the front of the room. My mind kept wandering, anticipating who I would be grouped with for this project. Please, please let it be Namjoon.

Namjoon had been my quiet crush since the first day of university. He was everything you’d want in a guy: smart, kind, and effortlessly hot. The kind of guy who always knew the answer to the professor’s most complicated questions, who smiled in that soft, unassuming way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It didn’t help that he had these deep dimples that appeared whenever he smiled, making my heart race just a little faster each time I saw them.

But as the professor continued to rattle off group assignments, I was growing more nervous. He hadn’t mentioned my name yet, and that gnawing anxiety at the pit of my stomach told me I wasn’t going to get lucky.

“And next,” Professor Lee announced, glancing at the list on his clipboard. “Y/N, you’ll be partnered with Jeon Jungkook.”

The room seemed to freeze for a moment. My eyes widened in disbelief, and a heavy weight dropped in my chest. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.

I glanced to my left where Jungkook sat, his usual cocky grin plastered across his annoyingly handsome face. He caught my eye and, as if on cue, that grin widened into a playful smirk. My fingers tightened around the pen in my hand, nearly snapping it in two. Of all the people on this campus, I had to be grouped with him.

Jungkook was notorious around the university for being a player. His reputation for breaking hearts and leaving a trail of jilted girls behind him was almost as well-known as his stupidly good looks. Muscular build, sharp jawline, tattooed arm—it was no wonder girls threw themselves at him. But I wasn’t interested. In fact, I despised him. He was always teasing me, always pushing my buttons in the worst ways possible. We couldn’t be more different.

And yet, fate—or Professor Lee—had thrown us together for this project.

I could already feel the irritation bubbling up in me as I forced myself to break eye contact with Jungkook, turning my attention back to the professor, hoping against hope for something—anything—that would make this less of a nightmare.

“And Namjoon,” Professor Lee continued, reading the next name on his list. “You’ll be in the same group as well.”

For a moment, I blinked, my brain taking a second to catch up. Wait—what?

I couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at my lips. Namjoon. Namjoon was in my group. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all.

I glanced over at Namjoon, who was sitting a couple of rows ahead of me. He turned in his seat, meeting my eyes, and gave me that warm, dimpled smile that never failed to make my heart skip a beat. I smiled back, feeling a tiny spark of hope. Maybe Jungkook’s presence wouldn’t be so unbearable if Namjoon was around.

Still, the fact that I had to work with Jungkook was an annoyance I couldn’t shake. As the class continued and Professor Lee finished the assignments, I couldn’t help but shoot a glare in Jungkook’s direction. He, of course, was still smirking at me, clearly enjoying the fact that this was bothering me.

Once the professor dismissed the class, I packed up my things slowly, waiting for Namjoon to come over. I didn’t want to seem too eager, but my heart was already beating faster at the thought of spending time with him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Namjoon said as he approached, his voice soft and warm. “I’m really sorry, but I’m not free to meet today. I’ve got some meetings and a lot on my plate.”

My smile faltered, but I quickly masked it with a nod. “That’s okay! We can always work on it later this week.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Namjoon said, flashing me that kind smile again before turning to leave. I watched him go, feeling a slight pang of disappointment. I’d been looking forward to spending more time with him, but at least we’d have other days.

As Namjoon left the room, I turned back to gather my things, fully expecting to leave right after. But then I noticed that the room had grown strangely quiet. Too quiet. Everyone else had left, except for one person.

Jungkook.

I looked up, and there he was, still sitting at his desk, his eyes locked on me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. For a moment, we just stared at each other in silence. I tried to ignore the flutter of nervous energy building in my stomach.

Without warning, Jungkook stood up and began walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. My pulse quickened. There was something about the way he moved, something almost predatory, that made my breath catch in my throat.

I forced myself to stand my ground, even as he came closer, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. When he stopped just inches away from me, I found myself pressed back against the wall without even realizing it. My heart was pounding in my chest now, and I could feel a flush rising to my cheeks.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” I asked, trying to sound as indifferent as possible, though my voice came out shakier than I’d like.

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving mine. His lips curved into that maddeningly cocky smile I hated so much, the one that made it seem like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Not happy about being paired with me?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it that I couldn’t quite place.

I glared at him, trying to keep my cool despite the sudden closeness of his body to mine. “You know exactly why I’m not happy.”

He chuckled, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”

“Maybe because you act like a player, Jungkook.”

The smile on his face faltered just slightly, but only for a brief second before it was back again, even more infuriating than before. “If you think I’m going to fuck you like I do with the others, you’re wrong.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Though, I have to admit… you’re already thinking about me, aren’t you?”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. The audacity of him. I hated how he was getting under my skin, how my body was reacting even though my mind was screaming at me to push him away.

“You’ve been fucking me with your eyes all day, Jeon,” I shot back, trying to regain some control over the situation, though my voice betrayed me.

He let out a low chuckle, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was soft, intimate, and it sent a ripple of heat through me. “Hm, bratty. I like that,” he muttered, his voice laced with amusement.

Jungkook’s gaze dropped to my lips for a moment before meeting my eyes again, and his next words sent a shockwave of tension through the room. “One day, Y/N. One day.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the rush of emotions flooding through me. “You wish,” I muttered, pushing past him, my heart racing as I left the room.

But even as I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze lingering on me, and the dangerous promise hanging in the air between us.

I had barely drifted off to sleep when the sharp buzz of my phone jolted me awake. I groaned, blinking at the clock. It was 2 a.m. Who could possibly be texting me at this hour?

Reaching over to grab my phone, I squinted at the screen. Of course.

it's jungkook

The morning sun filtered through the campus as I made my way toward class, still fuming from Jungkook’s obnoxious texts the night before. I hadn't replied after his last message, but it had taken everything in me to resist throwing my phone across the room. I couldn’t afford any more distractions today—I had to focus on this group project.

After class, I sent a message to both Namjoon and Jungkook, asking them to meet me at the library. They both replied with a quick "yes," but I couldn't shake the feeling that this was not gonna go well

The library was a sea of activity, but our corner was a bubble of escalating tension. Namjoon and I had been discussing some preliminary ideas when Jungkook strolled in, his usual confident swagger in full display. He slid into the chair next to me with a grin that made me feel both anxious and irritated.

“Morning, everyone,” Jungkook said, looking around the table. He glanced at Namjoon with a challenge in his eyes before turning his attention to me. “Let’s get this project rolling.”

Namjoon’s expression shifted subtly from polite to guarded. “Morning, Jungkook. We were just about to outline our approach. We thought starting with a structured plan would be best.”

Jungkook smirked. “Structured plan? Sounds like a surefire way to kill any chance of creativity. Why don’t we start by brainstorming some wild ideas and see where that takes us?”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “Brainstorming is great, but if we just dive in without a plan, we’ll end up with a mess. You need structure to keep things on track. Or are you just trying to avoid putting in the actual work?”

Jungkook leaned back, crossing his arms. “Avoiding work? That’s rich coming from you. Your idea of structure is basically setting up a boring checklist. Creativity doesn’t fit into a neat little box.”

Namjoon scoffed. “And your approach is just to throw ideas at the wall and see what sticks? That’s not exactly groundbreaking. It’s like hoping for a miracle instead of actually planning for success.”

I felt my frustration bubbling up as their argument intensified. They were clearly not going to back down, and their petty comments were only making things worse.

Jungkook’s tone was mocking. “Oh, right. Because your idea is so much better. Let’s just stick to the same old formula and hope for a pat on the back. How original.”

Namjoon shot back with equal disdain. “Better than relying on vague, half-baked ideas that have no real direction. At least with structure, we can ensure everything’s covered. But I guess you wouldn’t understand that because you’re too busy chasing after girls."

Their barbed comments continued to fly, and I could see their tempers rising. The petty back-and-forth was not only unproductive but also frustrating. I needed to step in before things got out of hand.

“Enough!” I said, my voice cutting through their argument. “This is a fucking group project, not a battleground for your egos. I’m tired of listening to you two trash each other’s ideas. We need to find a way to work together, not tear each other down.”

Jungkook and Namjoon looked at me, surprised by my outburst. Jungkook’s smirk had faded, replaced by a look of frustration, while Namjoon’s expression softened into a more serious one.

“I get that you both have strong opinions,” I continued, “but this constant fighting isn’t helping us. We need to find a middle ground and actually get something done.”

Namjoon nodded, though his frustration was still evident. “Alright. We can start with a basic outline and then use brainstorming to refine our ideas. But we need to work together and stop comparing our approaches in a negative way.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he agreed. “Fine. We’ll try to blend the ideas. But let’s not pretend that sticking to a rigid structure is the only way to succeed.”

With a sigh, I turned my attention to the project, hoping that their petty arguments would finally subside. The atmosphere was tense, but we needed to focus on making progress.

As we began to work, Jungkook and Namjoon continued to exchange glances, but the competitive edge had softened, if only slightly. The project started to come together, despite the earlier conflict. Their combined skills and knowledge were proving valuable, even if the process had been rocky.

The tension between them didn’t disappear completely, but the focus shifted back to the project. I hoped that, with time, we could find a way to collaborate more effectively and leave the petty arguments behind. For now, though, I was just relieved that we were making some progress.

As the afternoon wore on, we finally wrapped up our work on the project. The tension had eased somewhat, and while Jungkook and Namjoon were still exchanging occasional glances, the project was moving in the right direction. I packed up my things, exhausted and ready to collapse on my bed.

As I was about to leave, both Jungkook and Namjoon approached me at the same time. Their expressions were hopeful, clearly looking for a way to end the day on a positive note.

"Hey, Y/N," Jungkook said, flashing a charming smile. "How about we grab dinner together? I know this great new place nearby."

Namjoon chimed in almost simultaneously. "Actually, Y/N, I was thinking we could go out for dinner too. It'd be nice to unwind and talk more about the project."

I sighed, feeling the exhaustion hit me hard. The last thing I wanted was to deal with more socializing, especially given how the day had gone. I just wanted to go home, eat something simple, and crash.

"Thanks, but I'm really not up for it," I said, trying to keep my tone as polite as possible despite my irritation. "I'm tired and just want to head home."

Jungkook's smile faltered slightly. "Come on, Y/N. It'll be fun. We can relax and enjoy ourselves."

Namjoon, noticing Jungkook's persistence, added, "Yeah, it'll be a good break from all the work. Plus, we can discuss the project more informally."

I looked at both of them, feeling a surge of frustration. Their attitudes today had been less than stellar, and I was fed up with their petty arguing. I shook my head, turning on my heel and heading towards the exit.

"I'm really not interested," I said over my shoulder. "You two figure it out yourselves."

As I walked away, I could hear Jungkook and Namjoon start to bicker. Their voices carried through the library, each of them blaming the other for my refusal.

"See what you did?" Jungkook's voice was laced with annoyance. "You pushed her away with your rigid attitude. She was already pissed off before you even said anything."

Namjoon shot back, his tone sharp. "My attitude? You're the one who couldn't stop acting like a fuckboy all day. Maybe if you had been a little more respectful, things wouldn't have ended up this way."

Jungkook's eyes flashed with anger. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. At least I'm not some nerd who can't get out of his own head. You think you're so superior with your so-called 'structure' and 'organization.'"

Namjoon's face reddened. "Better to be a 'nerd' than a shallow idiot who only knows how to fuck his way through life. Maybe if you took things more seriously, you wouldn't be in this mess."

The argument escalated quickly, with Jungkook and Namjoon exchanging heated insults. I could hear them accusing each other of ruining the evening, each blaming the other for my decision to leave. Their pettiness was almost comical, but I had no intention of sticking around to watch their drama unfold.

I finally made it home, the familiar comfort of my apartment offering a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day. I dropped my bag by the door and headed straight for my room, craving the solace of my bed. To my surprise, I found Hoseok, my best friend, lounging on my bed with a relaxed grin on his face.

“Hoseok? What are you doing here?” I asked, my frustration from the day still bubbling beneath the surface.

Hoseok looked up, his smile widening. “Surprise! I thought I’d drop by and hang out. actually your mom called me to hang out with her. we ended up shopping and getting spa today. but anyways why do u look sad? want me to cheer you up?”

I sank onto the edge of my bed, letting out a heavy sigh. “Cheer me up? I think I need to vent first. You have no idea how frustrating today was.”

Hoseok sat up, giving me his full attention. “Alright, let it out. What happened?”

I started pacing the room, my frustration pouring out in a torrent. “It’s Jungkook. He’s been driving me insane. The guy’s a total fuckboy, and he’s so full of himself. I can’t stand how he just ignores everything and acts like he’s the only one who knows what’s best. And then Namjoon—he’s been acting so stuck up too, but at least he’s not as infuriating as Jungkook. I just wish Jungkook would disappear.”

Hoseok listened intently, nodding sympathetically. “You know what they say? The more you hate, the more you love.”

I stopped mid-sentence, turning to him with a look of confusion. “What? Are you serious right now? I like Namjoon. Jungkook is the last person I’d ever want to be involved with.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye. “Then why is Jungkook the only one you talk about? It sounds to me like he’s really getting under your skin.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Because he’s impossible! He’s always around, always stirring up trouble. I’m just so done with him.”

Hoseok chuckled, leaning back against the pillows. “It’s funny how the people we argue with the most are often the ones who matter to us the most. You and Jungkook seem to have this weird dynamic. Maybe it’s not just hatred.”

I shook my head, still trying to make sense of Hoseok’s words. “I don’t know, Hoseok. I just want things to be simple. I don’t want to be tangled up in all this mess. Namjoon’s straightforward, and I can actually see a future with him.”

Hoseok’s expression softened, and he gave me a reassuring smile. “I get it. It’s easier to focus on the people who seem like they’re a better fit, like Namjoon. But sometimes, those people who challenge us and push our buttons are the ones who end up being more significant than we realize.”

I sat down next to Hoseok, feeling a bit more grounded. “I guess you have a point. It’s just hard to deal with all this drama. I need some space from Jungkook and just want to focus on what makes me happy.”

Hoseok reached over and patted my shoulder. “Well, I’m here for you. If you need to vent or just hang out and not think about any of this, I’m your guy. We can order some takeout, watch a movie, and just talk shit i don't know.”

I smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “That sounds good. Thanks for being here, Hoseok. I really needed this.”

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

safe house pt 2 (previous part)

summary: read previous part, this is a direct continuation.

content warnings: domestic violence

You wake up in your best friends bed, last night still fresh in your mind. It plagued your dreams, waking you up out of your sleep multiple times, heart racing in a panic until you realised you were nowhere near your boyfriend, you were safe. For now.

Nightmares were a regular occurrence for you, especially after his outbursts. You would dream of him choking you and you’d wake up gasping for air and he’d be sleeping soundly as if nothing was wrong.

You spent a lot of nights staring up at the ceiling not daring to even breathe too loud incase you woke him and you would wonder if this is what your life was destined to be like forever. Would you always live in fear? It felt like it. It felt like there was no way out and he had told you as much.

“You’ll never leave.”

“You couldn’t survive without me.”

“You need me.”

“Without me, you’re nothing.”

“You’re mine. I own you.”

“The day you leave me will be your last.”

He’d spoken these words for so long you believed them. You believed you needed him. You believed you couldn’t survive without him. You believed he owned you. And you especially believed that the day you left him would be your last. He had a short fuse, he was violent and unpredictable and one too many times you thought you wouldn’t survive his beatings.

You’ve been victim to multiple black eyes and busted lips over the most insignificant things. One time it was because you had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day. Another time it was because his team had lost a match. Bruises covered your body constantly and in the worst instance, you had suffered a broken nose. That time, you didn’t leave the apartment for weeks just to avoid the barrage of questions that you wouldn’t be able to answer truthfully.

Allie was no longer laid beside you like she was last night when you fell asleep, you wasn’t sure how long she’d been up, she must have been very careful not to wake you and you were grateful for the extra sleep.

You slip out of bed and catch your reflection in the mirror and you audibly gasp, “Shit.”

The bruising around your eye had developed overnight, it was a deep shade of red and extremely swollen. You traced your fingers over it gently and winced at the pain it caused. The split on your lip had dried over and a scab had begun to form, it hurt to open your mouth and you knew it would sting like a bitch when it came to eating and drinking. The hand marks around your neck had deepened too, they were more prominent today and you swallowed hard, remembering the feeling of the air be squeezed out of you. Your ribs hurt with every intake of breath and after lifting your shirt, you could see why. Your torso was littered with bruises and scuffs caused by your boyfriends foot.

You knew deep down leaving the apartment last night was the right thing to do, for your own safety but you also knew it will have made your situation today worse. You had to go back, there was nowhere else to go. It was your home, all of your things were there but you knew he’d be waiting, as soon as you stepped foot back inside and he wouldn’t be happy.

You could hear Allie and her roommates in the living room, they were talking in hushed voices but you could still make out your name when it was spoken.

You pressed your ear up against the door in an attempt to listen.

“I’ve known Y/N a long time. She won’t leave him. You think I haven’t tried before?” That was Allie.

“Obviously not hard enough, Allie. She’s being beaten black and blue.” That was Paige and her voice was raised several octaves higher, she sounded angry and you flinched at her tone.

“OK, calm down. Let’s just speak to her and see what she wants to do.” Jana tried to reason with the girls.

“No. Seeing what she wants to do isn’t an option. She’s brainwashed by him, not to mention scared out of her mind. Of course she’s not going to want to leave him but I’m not letting this go on for any longer. I told her last night was the last time he’d hurt her and I meant it.” Paige says quieter this time but she still sounded angry.

Last night was the first time Paige had seen you after one of your boyfriends outbursts and you hadn’t expected it to evoke this kind of reaction. Most people didn’t know what to say, they’d just ignore it. It was like the elephant in the room.

You’re crying now as you listen to the girls talk about you, you felt bad that you had dragged them into your mess.

“She can’t stay there anymore.” That was Paige again.

“That’s her apartment, she has nowhere else to go.” That was Allie.

“She’ll stay here until we figure it out.” Paige, again.

You appreciated what Paige was saying but ultimately, Allie was right. You weren’t going to leave your boyfriend, you couldn’t.

You dried you tears quickly and readied yourself to face the girls. Your hand shook as you opened Allies door and you took a deep breath as you stepped out. Everyones eyes immediately fell on you and you felt like a deer in headlights. Allie looked at you sympathetically while Jana, who hadn’t seen you last night, looked shocked at your injuries and Paige had a deep frown set on her face and it looked like she was about to cry.

“Thank you for letting me stay but I should be getting home.” You tried your best not let your voice falter but it came out in a shaky croak you cursed yourself for sounding so weak.

Paige looked at Allie, silently saying stop her but Allie just raised her brows in response as if to say what can I do?

“I don’t think you should go home.” Paige brakes the silence and stands from the couch.

“I have to.” You murmur.

“You don’t.” Allies also standing now.

“I do, you don’t get it. None of you get it.” You snap and run your fingers through your hair in frustration.

“No, we don’t, but we can’t let you go back there. You’re not safe.” Paige responds, walking over to where you’re stood and she reaches out to touch you or hug you, you’re not sure but you jump back at her advance.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters, letting her hand fall back down to her side.

You shake your head, “I have to go.”

“Y/N, please don’t.” Paige pleads and the tears that have been threatening to fall finally do and you’re sobbing in your friend’s living room, not knowing what to do.

Allie calms you down and her and Paige continue to beg you not to return to your apartment. They say you can stay with them for as long as you like and you allow yourself to dreams of days not poisoned by your abuser.

“All my stuff is there.” You whisper after a while. If you were really going to do this, if you were really going to leave him, it wouldn’t be easy.

You wasn’t sure what scared you more, going back and being at his mercy or trying to leave and him doing everything in his power to not allow you.

“We can help you do that. Ayanna and KK are coming over, we can go and get your stuff.” Paige tells you and you shake your head, “I’m coming with you.” You say, your boyfriend was unpredictable on a good day, you were not about to put Paige or Ayanna or KK in his firing line.

Ayanna and KK arrived shortly after and you sat awkwardly as Paige explained the situation, you felt like a victim, weak and frail and you hated that but the girls met you with nothing but love and support and you thanked them continuously as you drove to your apartment. You were really about to do this.

“I should go in first.” You say as the four of you stood outside of your front door. Music blasted from the other side so you knew your boyfriend was home.

“We’re coming in.” Ayanna states and your hand shakes as you push the key in the lock and turn it, opening the door.

“Just pack your stuff and we’ll get you out of here.” Paige whispers into your ear, she’s behind you and her hand comes to the small of your back and you flinch at the unexpected touch, you keep doing that but you can’t help it, you’re so used to violent hands, it’s all you expect now.

The apartment was not how you left it, in the few hours you’d been gone, it had been trashed. Dirty laundry was thrown onto the floor, dinner plates from last night had been smashed, pizza boxes lay discarded on the table, beer bottles too. This was expected, but what hurt the most was seeing your personal items destroyed, a frame that held a picture of you and your sister had been shattered, shards of glass everywhere, multiple items of your clothing looked as though Edward Scissorhands himself had got at them and your favourite books had the pages ripped out of them and thrown across the room.

You look back at the girls with tears in your eyes, trying to gauge their reactions and their faces say it all, “He’s a freak.” KK mutters picking up your cut up clothes.

You take cautionary steps to your bedroom knowing he’s in there.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He spits, he was laid on the bed but quickly got up when he saw you.

“I stayed at a friends.” You gulp as he steps closer to you, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“What friend?” He pushes, his hand coming up to grip your jaw, “And don’t lie.” He snarled bringing his face directly up to yours.

“A-Allie.” You stutter out and try to wriggle away from him but that only makes his grip tighten before he shoves you away from him making you stumble back into the living room. Paige is by your side in a heartbeat and you watch your boyfriends face contort into a scowl and his eye twitches in anger, “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m helping Y/N get her stuff. You’re not hurting her anymore.” Paige asserts, moving herself to stand in front of you. You’re completely shielded by her tall, muscular frame and you were so used to seeing your boyfriend as big and intimidating in comparison to you but Paige made him seem nothing short of ordinary. At 6’0, she stood at the same height as him and her biceps bulged in her tight t-shirt making his look like nothing special.

He laughed a deep sinister laugh but you knew he found nothing funny and his eyes grew dark as he stepped towards Paige but she didn’t move one bit, she stood her ground, “Get your stuff, Y/N.” She says turning to you but you’re frozen in place, scared to move.

Your boyfriend notices KK and Ayanna and he scoffs, “What are these, your fucking bodyguards?”

You don’t reply so he lunges at you but not before Paige can pull you behind her again, “Back up bro.” She hissed holding her hands out to keep him away.

“Get your stuff.” Paige says again turning to you and pointing to your room and this time you move with conviction. You weren’t alone now, you were getting out of here.

KK helped you stuff what was left of your clothes into a suitcase. You collected your belongings from around the room, your stuffed animal, makeup, books, your laptop, packing them all into various bags. Your movements were rushed and frantic and your attention was on the repeated smashing and crashing sounds coming from the living room and kitchen.

“That’s everything.” You say to KK, zipping up your case and she nods, picking up multiple bags in each hand while you wheeled the suitcase behind her.

In the living room, every surface had been wiped clear of whatever stood there before, a vase was shattered on the floor, the coffee table had been flipped and a lamp laid in pieces on the rug.

Your boyfriend was fuming and he couldn’t get to you so he was destroying anything and everything he could get his hands on. You thank God that he hadn’t touched Paige or Ayanna, they just stood watching him have a complete meltdown.

“Ready?” Paige asks seeing you with all your possessions packed and you nod, not able to string together even a simple sentence. Your hands were clammy and your heart was beating so fast you could hear it. You never thought this day would come.

“You’ve lost your mind if you think you’re going anywhere.” Your boyfriend booms at you.

You walked to the door with hurried steps and he reaches out to grab you but you dodge his grasp, something you’ve been afraid to do for so long but you’re not afraid anymore, you’re determined. Determined to leave, determined to survive this relationship that’s been nothing short of hell on earth.

“Y/N if you leave, you’ll regret it. I’ll make you regret it!” He threatened, picking up a beer bottle and hurling it in your direction. You feel it brush past your ear before it smashes on the ground in front of you and you yelp at the sound as tiny shards of glass crunch under your steps.

“Get her out of here.” Paige instructs her friends, opening the front door ushering you all out but you stop on the threshold, “Come on, Paige.” You urged, not wanting to leave her alone in the apartment.

“Give me a minute.” Her words are softer and calmer when they’re directed at you. You don’t want to leave her but KK and Ayanna don’t give you much choice as they guide you away from the apartment that was filled with some of the worst memories you have.

You stay in the hall, the door to the apartment still open and you hear everything Paige says.

“Y/N is never coming back here. You’re never going to put your hands on her again. You’ve hurt her for long enough and it stops now. You won’t make her regret anything and if I hear that you go anywhere near her, you’ll regret it. Do you hear?” Her voice is strong and dominant and you hold your breath waiting for his response but there is none. “Do you fucking hear?” He must nod because Paige mumbled a good before joining you in the hall, closing the door behind her and you let out the breath you had been holding in.

Paige has the picture of your sister and you in her hands and she passes it to you with a small smile, “Thought you might want this.” She says and you thank her holding the picture close to your chest, such a small action meant more than she’ll ever know.

“It’s done, Y/N. You’re out of there and you never have to go back.” Paige says closing the trunk of her car after filling it with your bags.

KK and Ayanna are already sat inside, “Thank you.” you whisper looking up to Paige, her big blue eyes sharing down at you, “Can I touch you?” She asks tentatively and you nod. You want to say please but stop yourself.

And for the first time, you don’t flinch or recoil at Paiges touch, as her arms wrap around you protectively, you melt into her and just allow yourself to be held.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: sorry this took so long, ive been so busy but thank you for all the requests for a part 2! i hope this does it justice 💋🫂

[shawnxstyles]

man-handled

DATE: DECEMBER 4, 2023

summary: you get a little caught up in your boyfriend’s muscly arms and can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he man-handled you.

request: i thought it was but i guess not??

words: 5.1k

warning: SMUT (f- receiving (multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, throat-fucking), m- receiving (oral), slight daddy/sir kink, degrading, name-calling, dirty talk), language, and probably the shittiest ending ever

note: i’m so tired y’all

mafia!tom x reader

–

You weren’t usually like this. You weren’t known for being so horny to the point where you can’t think straight. You were known to be quiet, shy, and even a little innocent. But sometimes Tom brought out the worst in you. But you learned to like that side of you. The secret, dark, and dirty side that only Tom could unveil from you. Watching you unfold and come undone–no pun intended–gave Tom a deep sense of growing pride.

Every day he made it more obvious that he was the only one and that there would never be anyone else for you.

What was causing you to act so strange was a new obsession for you. You had been with Tom intimately numerous times, but he never failed to pleasure you immensely. You two have explored each other’s bodies inside and out, yet your mind still found things to obsess over. Currently, it was his arms.

His arms.

They were usually covered with different brand-name suits, all varying from gray to black. The sleeves always wrapped around his biceps snuggly, hinting at only some of his bulkiness. Usually, the sight of him in his suits when he left for work had you thinking about how hot he looked overall. But as you watched him leave this morning, your eyes couldn’t stop fixating on the packed muscle you knew was hiding under the black suit’s sleeves.

You’re not sure, but you think this newest obsession started last night by complete accident. That accident being Tom’s overwhelming dominance and control when he was fucking you.

Although you were on the quieter and more innocent side, it amazed both Tom and you that you were secretly fucked in the head just like him. You hadn’t even known it until you stumbled upon Tom. Sometimes, you think that he molded you to indulge in his kinks and fantasies, but he’s never forced you to do anything. If anything, it’s always you shyly asking him to do something more when a dirty thought pops into your head. He always makes sure to degrade yet praise you in the most addicting and twisted way.

Last night, while you and Tom were simply watching a movie, things got heated (it was never just going to be a movie). Tom had gotten home early and just wanted to relax. But the makeout between you two got hotter and you both got needier. When you moved yourself to his lap, gently rocking into him, his strong hands forced you to stay still. You remembered the bruises present on his knuckles and wondered if they still hurt when he squeezed your hips. You whined into his mouth before he picked you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder as you squealed.

“Always so greedy.”

Tom has picked you up and threw you over his shoulder before. Maybe the other times he was gentler about it, afraid to hurt his little princess even if you were completely okay with it. But that night, he didn’t seem to give a fuck. He had a difficult day at work, the evidence clear on his wounded hands, so maybe he took some of that aggressive out on you. After he had brought you upstairs, you were extremely drenched as his bulky arms tossed you on the bed.

But after that, he apologized for being so rough. He explained how he had a tough day and he was sorry for taking it out on you. It resulted in long, sweet, loving sex that you adored all the time because you got to see the part of him that no one sees. Just like that secret part in you that only he sees. Except, you weren’t yearning for his softness after being man-handled. No, you were looking to be fucked. Hard. You wanted it rough, messy, degrading, and straight sinful. The nastiest scenes flooded your mind through the night, hoping that you could relive one of them with Tom. As he fucked slow into you last night, your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his bulging arms holding himself over his head. You watched as the muscles would work and his veins would pop out when he did a push-up, and it had you clenching around him pathetically.

What were you going to tell him when he came home?

For the rest of the day, you wandered around the house needily. You cleaned, you read, you reorganized, but nothing distracted you enough from your fucked-up thoughts and the pulse between your legs. One part of you felt ashamed for hiding it from Tom, but the other half of you didn’t care. It felt like you had your own little secret that no one knew. But then again, you really wanted to tell him because you wanted to see the results. And feel them…

When it was late into the evening, seemingly later than when Tom usually returns, you sighed to yourself. You brought yourself to bed, too worn out from your own desires nagging you down all day. If only Tom didn’t have a rule about touching yourself while he was gone, you would have been able to handle your dirty situation all by yourself. But no, Tom had to be insanely controlling and sexy about everything, just making your situation even harder to deal with. Just as your bare feet slip into the comforter, you hear the hefty front door open. Your head shoots up, instantly on high alert of Tom’s arrival. Just when you thought your body was relaxing, the sound of his approaching footsteps seem to heighten your hormone levels, veering away from homeostasis once again.

Tom peeks his head through the ajar bedroom door, body hunching over the door handle. He doesn’t say a word until he realizes that you are in fact awake, opening the door wider. He skulks closer to you, his body bulky and stoic just how you remembered it being this morning when he left. His hands at his sides had those infamous cuts and bruises that you always wrapped with bandages. He never wanted you to, you demanded that you do. Your heart pounds as your tummy tickles, wishing he could read your mind and just handle you the way you want him to with those bruised knuckles.

“Missed you today, Princess,” his thick hand rose to caress the hair on your head. You feel yourself lean into his touch, yearning it always no matter how intense or soft. You always craved to just feel him.

“Missed you too, Daddy. So much,” your hand reaches up and encloses around his wrist, squeezing softly. His hand gently pulls away as he sits beside you on the bed, and you nearly whimper at the loss of contact.

“What d’you do today?” Tom asked simply and softly, genuinely curious about your day. But finally with him next to you, your mind has gotten all fuzzy, and you feel like you’ve forgotten every word you’ve known. Your eyes haven’t drifted away from his arm since he pulled away from you, mind encompasses in the way he moves.

“I cleaned. I reorganized the shelves in your office. Oh, and I read too…”

Tom tried to listen to your dull list of activities, but he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you seemed. Maybe you were tired from all the chore-like things you did. But your eyes weren’t blinking as they started at his chest, clearly hazy with something. Something familiar.

“Yeah? And what did you read?”

“Um… I don’t remember,” your head started to tilt to the side as you licked your lips, lost in whatever thought was clouding your mind currently. Tom’s mouth curved just the slightest bit up at the airheaded state of you, wondering if you could be anymore adorable. The fact that you didn’t remember what you read, knowing you love reading, is what stood out to Tom the most. Something was obviously off, Tom just couldn’t figure it out yet.

“How was work? Do you need me to patch you up?”

“Work was stressful. People don’t listen and then ask why m’so harsh. And idiots like to go behind m’back and take stuff from me,” Your eyes fall onto his wounded hands.

“S’not nice…”

“Not nice at all, huh?” Tom reaches up to caress your face ever-so gently, not wanting to touch you too much with his open cuts.

“Come on. Let me fix you up. Please?”

Now, how could Tom ever say no to you?

–

Sometimes, Tom could be stubborn. Like right now, where he refused to sit down while you tended to his wounds because he’s saying that it won’t take long enough to sit. You want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you don’t want him to see your attitude and punish you later. Or maybe you do…

He had his suit jacket off now and just his crisp, white buttoned shirt rolled up to the elbows. The skin that was untouched was smooth under your delicate touch, but his scars and fresh cuts, which were most likely old ones reopened, were rugged. You dabbled light pressure as you wiped away dry blood with the wet cloth, not afraid of hurting him because he barely blinks when he punches someone. He surely wasn’t phased by his girl cleaning up his damages like a little puppy trying to lick themselves better. That’s exactly what your touch felt like—little puppy licks and gentle pawing.

And when you applied the cooling ointment, his pain was eased, but he doesn’t think it was from the cream. No, he is a firm believer that you are his medicine. Your words, your touch, your soul was healing. Although he was your opposite in every way and he hurt people for a living while you mended people’s aches with your mere presence, he could never hurt you. Never.

So, when you’re all finished wrapping his hands with that rough cloth that’s an excuse for a bandage (it was all he had stored), he’s shocked by your blunt statement. You were rarely blatant about anything, especially when it had to do with sexual situations.

“Why did you apologize to me last night?” You just threw your words at him, hoping he caught them. He didn’t know that when you were fixing him up you were ogling his arms like a child in a toy store during the Christmas season. His veins were green, constant exploitation of work causing them to pop out more. He looked delicious and it made you crave him more than ever. Even more with his ripped up hands. You wanted the roughness and pain and the power to be instilled on you. You wanted him to take his particularly hard day out on you. Tom blinked, silently leading you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He tried to recall exactly when he apologized to you, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Clearly, work had gotten to his head too much.

“I don’t remember what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, darling,” Without a thought, he begins unbuttoning his shirt with his bandaged hands. He looked like something of a fancy man mixed with an underground boxer. Not the type of fancy that shows off his money, but the type that’s humble and real and works hard for what he wants. A man who made himself. And that’s exactly who Tom is; someone who built himself.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’re under the spotlight. But you took a breath. “Last night, when we were having… sex… you apologized for being really rough.”

He flatly hums, indicating that you need to continue while he buttons his shirt. You could just faint from his sculpted, stony beauty that was hidden behind a few buttons and fabric. Unlike his knuckles, his skin was smooth and untouched besides his scattered tattoos. He had faint scars that you could barely see unless you were looking really hard (which in your case maybe you were). His build and figure used to intimidate you, but now, you’re just awed.

“Well… I kind of liked when you were rough…” Your words dragged out, especially as your head tilted down to face your lap in embarrassment. “You’ve never really been like that before and it caught me off guard, but in a really good way! I didn’t realize I wanted something like that until… yeah.” You weren’t embarrassed that you were attracted to your own boyfriend’s man-handling, but by the fact that you had to admit that to get what you wanted. Sometimes, you wish he could just read your mind, but life wasn’t a movie or a book, even if it felt like that from time to time with the life you live. Dating a mafia man was insane to visualize–those things only really happened in books. Or so you thought.

“You did?” You softly hummed, nodding your head. You could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest. You didn’t think Tom would reject you. That’s not why your heart was beating faster than its usual tempo. You were anticipated and your organ couldn’t help but be thrilled at what was to come. “You liked when I took my day out on you? Liked when I was a little mean?”

You crossed your ankles that had been hanging off the bed, biting your lip. You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, because you got slightly dizzy from the movement along with your amped hormones. You had that beat in your chest, but you also had that throbbing pulse in your lower body that has been aching since you watched him leave earlier that day. In the most Tom-way possible, he stalks over to you, torso bare while his trousers remain on. He’s slow and calculated, and it makes you even more anxious. When your eyes finally look up at him, he’s glaring down at you with blown-out pupils, a darkness swirling with the brown color of his irises.

He’s close to you now, inches away from touching you. But he doesn’t. You hear the clink of his belt loosening around his waist before it’s adoring his hand. His quick movements cause the leather to slap your bicep, making you gasp, but what he doesn’t do is apologize. You’re not sure if what he did was purposeful. Did he want to startle you and show you how rough he really could be? You never lingered too long on the idea of him using a belt on you, but if Tom was going to be man-handling you more often, then the thought would probably be more recurring. Tom shrugs off his pants as if they’re a bother, and by the large bulge outlined in his briefs, it seems as if they really are.

You hadn’t even realized you were licking your lips until Tom’s hand came up around your throat, thumb pulling it out. He tucks his thumb into your mouth, gripping it tightly.

“Drooling over m’cock and I’m not even fully undressed yet,” he removes his thumb before lightly tapping your cheek. “On your knees. Need to fill that filthy mouth.”

The devil on your shoulder wants to be a brat and not listen to him, but you’ve been craving this all day. If Tom knew what you wanted–which he did–his punishment to you would just be not giving it to you. And that’s not your ideal plan at the moment. So, you slide off the edge of the bed and onto the floor at his feet. The first thing he does is spread your thighs open with his ankle.

“You don’t get to squeeze y’pretty little thighs together while sucking me off. That’s rude, pet. Get as wet as you want, but if you close y’legs, you’re not comin’ tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Your hands were waiting anxiously by your sides, clawing at the skin on your thighs. Your pussy was already clenching around its own wetness, unable to close due to his new limit.

“It talks,” his tone was sinister and demeaning. The kind that would make someone’s eyes twitch and hands fist in an argument out of irritation. But his works were fueling some type of sick need inside of you that needed to be sedated, and this seemed to be the only way to do it. And you didn’t mind it one bit. You fucking loved it. “Who knew such a slut would be so obedient?”

You knew better than to respond to that rhetorical question. Instead, you patiently wait for his smirk to rise in cocky pride before he finally slips off his briefs. Like every time you’ve seen his cock, it’s pretty. You didn’t know they were supposed to look so yummy and dream-like. He was smooth with inklings of hair scattered down at the base and his tip was a cute coral color that grew an angry red when he was hard. From the looks of it, he was pretty hard. His tip was leaking that delicious pre-cum you were dying to taste, even if you’ve had it thousands of times before. Having to sit and stare at his glory without touching was some type of punishment, you think.

His hand latches onto the base and the other grips the back of your head. He pushes you closer, tapping your cheek with his tip. You suck in a breath, readying to take him.

“You know what to do if it’s too much. And it will be.”

Tom shoves his cock into mouth once you’re open wide enough. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size or explore his prick like he usually does. This time he’s quick and harsh like he’s trying to beat some type of record. But he’s still just as calculated as he always is, and you know he’s not just going to come fast because he can. Most men do that all the time when they want to get off briskly, but Tom wasn’t like that. He liked to take his time and appreciate the moment, edging you both just a little to make it a little fun. He always edged himself more though, forcing orgasms out of you before you would even touch him.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, trying to grasp the pleasure he is holding from you. Hands clawing at his meaty thighs until your nails break the skin barrier. Moans attempt to escape your mouth, but are instantly shoved right back down your throat from his thick cock. Tom drills into you with no mercy, causing saliva to cascade down your chin in long strings. The muscles in your jaw ache from their open stance, begging for a break that you would never get. If it was too much you could easily tap his thigh a few times and it would all be over, but that’s exactly what you don’t want. You love that he came home after a stressful day and you could make him feel better. You didn’t want your limitations to restrict his maximum abilities when you secretly wanted more to begin with.

“Look at you letting me fuck this throat. This whiny, little throat and your filthy mouth. Always so fuckin’ needy for it,” his grip on your hair intensified, stilling your head from any movements you might subconsciously make. You’re not surprised when the tears finally start to leak from your eyes, rolling down your face in wavering streams rather than small rivulets. “I’m so big I made you a crybaby. That good, sweetheart?”

There were no words that were able to leave your stuffed mouth, only rumbles of moans that vibrated around his cock so dirtily that his head was falling back. Deep, guttural groans emitted from his rough throat, his movements never faulting. Even when you feel the tip of him twitching in the back of your mouth, he doesn't stop.

“Take it. I’m going to come and you’re going to take it. All you wanted was to be a storage for my cum, right?” Tom’s words were cruel and degrading, but they were the exact thing that got you off. Your stomach churned in lust, feeling a bit neglected, yet pleasured by him fucking your mouth.

He was going all out tonight and you didn’t want anything less. Tom didn’t even give you a warning about when he was coming, he just wanted you to take it. And who were you to defy him? When ropes of his much-needed release fired from his prick, you made sure to swallow every drop. He slowly removes himself from your mouth as your jaw aches immensely. Saliva and cum were lathered around your chin, coating your lips with the taste of him. Your hand lifts up to massage your jaw as you look up at the flames of lust in Tom’s eyes. You notice that there’s slight hesitation; he wants to default back into a caring lover rather than a dominant one. But even with the soreness in your jaw, you manage a smirk to let him know that you’re fine. You’re more than fine, and you’re more than ready to continue the rest of the night. You know that it will be your turn soon too at some point, right? That throat-fuck was torture for your sopping cunt. You’re mind-dizzyingly horny.

“What’s the matter? Your lip is all trembling and wet,” You didn’t even notice him stuff his prick back into his pants because you were so mesmerized by the taste left on your tongue and the ache in your jaw. He leans down, nearly level with you on the floor, but still hovering over your head. “Just like your pussy I bet, hm?”

Your entire body shivered from his words as if a frozen wind cascaded through the bedroom, but at the same time, your skin has never burned so fiery. His hands were quick to fit under your arms, lifting you up to your feet. When your thighs met again, they squeezed tightly to rid the incessant throbbing between them. You knew you were just soaking wet too–the kind that reached all the way to your bum once Tom laid you flat on your back. The kind that would drip onto the bed sheets if you were positioned on all fours with your rear up in the air. Tom loved to do every which way with you, but he was keen on watching your scrunched-up face relax once you came. The way your nose would wrinkle and eyebrows furrow, mouth just wide enough to slip a finger or two through. Which, of course, Tom would take advantage of. But right now, he wanted to taste you.

It had been such a long day, full of busyness and rage-work. He didn’t mind having to punch a face or two daily, especially when they wronged him significantly because then he got to do more than just a punch. The only part he hated was seeing your face in the aftermath. When he’d come home, he would see you all delighted to see him back and well, just for your expression to drop in concern at his wounds. Whether it was his hands (it was usually his hands), arms, chest, or even his face, you were relentless about fixing him up. Tom’s resistance was nothing to you, so eventually, he would just sigh and let you aid him. You had something of a magic touch because only you could make Tom feel better. Nothing like the doctors he had occasionally visited as a child or even his mother’s kisses. And now, his knuckles may be bruised and may be bandaged, but that would never stop him from taking care of his girl. Especially when his girl got all shy about wanting to be man-handled. He thought you were the most adorable thing really.

Usually, Tom would gently lay you back on the comforter and make sure you had a pillow underneath your head. This time, he didn’t even hesitate to throw your willing body like a ragdoll on the bed. The gasp you let out was practically a moan. His invasive, manly hands shredded your bottoms down your legs without a care in the world. You’ve never seen him so aggressive with you, but God, if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. You had been craving this type of fucking, and now that you have it, well, you might just pass out from how good it’s all going to feel.

“This slutty little pussy,” he growls, thumb circling your throbbing clit. He can feel the way it swells underneath his rough touches, and he can hear the way your breath gets caught in your throat. You were always so delicate to him, like you would break if he held you too hard. But while you were soft, you were also strong, which is why Tom was able to treat you like this and you wouldn’t shatter like thin glass. “So weepy and wet. Who knew you were such a cock whore, hm? Or is it just for me?”

“You. Only you.”

Tom knew it was only for him. And of course, you knew it was only for him. No one has ever gotten you as wet as Tom has, and no one has pleasured you nearly as much. He strived to satisfy you until you begged him to stop, which no one had ever come close to doing. Every past partner you’ve been with always had to use lubricants because they couldn’t make you wet enough. You were always ashamed and embarrassed, but then you realized that’s how they should feel. Their performances are minuscule and rubbish; compared to Tom’s, they don’t stand a chance. But you didn’t bother with those past “lovers” anymore, because you had your one and only right in front of you. Or more like right in between your legs with his head on your thigh.

“Right. I’m feeling a bit hungry. You’ll let me eat, won’t you?” He widens your legs, forcing them to spread so you can’t suffocate him with your thighs. Lewd whines spill from your mouth as his breath hits your pussy, warm and close. “Oh, wait, I’m making the decisions.”

His lips lock onto your clit, sucking on the nub. You don’t conceal the moans that instantaneously begin to slip out of you like a mantra. He changes his rhythm, going firm and fast, and then slow and calculated. It was addicting, and it left you clawing at the bed sheets and curling your toes. His tongue swirls through your folds, collecting your juices and prodding inside of you.

No man has eaten you like Tom has. When they did it, they did it as if it was a chore. Tom does it as if it’s a reward.

He cherishes you, honors your body with his hands and mouth while also showing you who’s in control. It’s these things that make you utterly obsessed with him, thinking about him for twenty-four hours even when you see him at the start and end of every day. You were obsessed with the way his tongue was licking into you, desperate to consume every drop of your wetness until you were drained. His thumb returned to its home on your clit, pressing and holding as it throbbed beneath his finger. Your head spun as if you were drunk on a carousel, but it wasn’t nausea you were feeling. No, it was the ecstasy of pleasure building up inside of you as you approached your high.

“S-so close. Fuck—”

A slap to your inner thigh caused you to squeak into the heated air. Tom never cared when you cussed before, but the fact that he did now was another little turn-on that just got added to the list. Seriously, what was wrong with you?

His mouth popped off of you, thumb never letting up on your clit. He cleanly slides his middle finger through your slick folds, easily curling it inside of you. Even with his wounded and wrapped hands, his thrusts are flawless and perfectly paced. The sandy texture of the bandage occasionally itches your inner thigh, adding a delicious stimulation to your skin. As he pumps his digits inside of you, you are aware of the muscles in his arms flexing, which makes you clutch tightly around him.

“Oh, what’s got you so tight?” You groan at his words, not responding clearly. “Don’t be a brat.

“Your a-arms,” You can’t help but moan as he curls his fingers inside of you again.

“Yeah?” he hovers his body over you now, one arm supporting his bulky weight right beside your head. It was exactly like how you had remembered it and you didn’t even have to tell him. His bicep was next to your head, pulsing and working to keep him up right. You could feel and hear him grin and grunt every time you squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You’re the filthiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. The way you’re taking my fingers I just know you’re wishing it’s m’cock.”

Your skin was on fire. Your hair was a mess. Your head was going to evaporate into a cloud of lust. And your body was an oozing waterfall. That’s the only way to describe how you felt.

His transitions are natural and effortless as if he could do it with his eyes closed because he’s mapped your body out so well. But no matter how many times you’re with him, you’re still withering beneath him, shaking until your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. He tilts his head, licking his lips before whispering in your ear deeply.

“Since you’ve been crying for it all day, come. Go ahead. Soak my fingers. Soak the fuckin’ sheets.”

You topple over your orgasm into a pool of pleasure, indeed soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. As your body becomes hypersensitive, you wiggle away from his touch, only for him to hold you in place. He snatches your hips, stills them roughly with a press of his bandaged hands.

“I’m not done here, sweetheart. For this one, I want you to be as quiet as possible. Can you do that? Or are you inclined to let the neighborhood know who is making y’come this many times?”

Tom was incessant about making you come a magnitude of ways that night, all with specific rules. One with no touching, one with no moving, one with no moaning. It was a rollercoaster of crying and orgasms. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but you’ve never felt more refreshed and satisfied.

You were so tired that when Tom left to begin your aftercare, you had passed out on the messy bed sheets.

—

i rushed the ending so much, but i felt bad that i’ve posted in so long and i’m just so busy that i never have time to write anymore

taglist:

@motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @rugbeat3000 @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part X

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 1.5k | Warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Masterlist

The next morning, you came down the steps, entering the dining room to find your High Lord at the table. He sat, buttering a croissant when he noticed you. “Good morning.”

His voice was low as he greeted you, raising the croissant in your direction. You looked on in surprise, not sure what to make of his presence.

“Morning.” You elongated the syllables, not really sure how to take in his presence. You had spent two weeks here by this point and saw him daily, however the conversations lasted no more than thirty seconds before he ran off quickly. Something about his presence unnerved you, and it wasn’t until now that you had to sit with it in the silence. It was strange - he felt so known to you, like watching the sunset every night - you always know it’s going to happen, but when you see it, it’s like a brand new experience.

“I hope you don’t mind my company, Feyre is occupied this morning. I figured we could spend the morning together.” 

You nodded, a bit hesitant in your movements as you moved to sit a few seats down from him.

The silence settled like a blanket over you two before his throat clearing disturbed it. “How have your meetings with Feyre been going?”

His voice was strained, and you were mentally scolding yourself for opening up to Feyre. Usually he asked you this question in passing, stopping you in the hallway to check in. Now as he sat at the opposite end of the table, you felt trapped here with him. It’s not that Rhys had to like you - by all means, you’ve had coworkers or tavern regulars you couldn’t stand, but you found his silence these few weeks to be odd. When he showed up in your village, it felt like he really cared about your well-being and training you.

Neither of those things had been on his radar the past few weeks, though.

“Fine, I suppose. Like I’ve said before, I’m not entirely sure how it’s supposed to go, but yesterday I made progress.”

His eyes lit up, and you narrowed your own. He seemed surprised at your progress. Did Feyre not tell him about yesterday? His gaze on you was so boyish and excited you almost laughed - he looked nothing like the egotistical bastard the Illyrians you knew had painted him out to be.

In the time you had been here, you had wondered where the truth lay with their words - were the High Lord and his court the vermin they were said to be? Could the High Lord really read minds? You thought about if he really could, not thinking too much before screaming very loudly in your mind, watching Rhys intently. He didn’t move at the loud screaming, so if he could read minds, maybe he could turn it on and off at will.

“What kind of progress did you make?”

“I’m not sure how to describe it, I um- I felt really nervous and then I felt okay. Feyre and Azriel said they felt something, but I’m not sure what they felt. They didn’t say.”

He nodded, his violet eyes watched as you loaded your plate with eggs and sausage. “But they felt something, yes?”

You nodded, chewing your eggs before answering. “It was something, they ended things pretty quickly afterward, which was fine by me. It tired me out.”

He continued watching you eat, making you a bit uneasy before he cleared his throat. “Have you ever played chess?”

You kept your face neutral as you told him, “no, I have not. How do you play?”

-

He walked through the rules with you, telling you what each piece meant, how they moved, and even told you some half decent strategies for a beginner. The two of you ran through a mock game where he allowed you to win, and you knew because you were making the worst possible moves to see how he’d react. He had a decent poker face, but when you placed a piece in a terrible spot and he got a little cocky, one of his brows arched. Throughout the game you sprinkled in ‘accidental’ smart moves, leading him to tap his finger on his chin. 

You smiled as you checked his king after several disastrous moves, beaming with pride. “I’m ready - let’s play for real!”

He chuckled, but you continued. “Come on, don’t go easy on me. I can take it.”

Hands moved across the board, pieces moving back into place. You even misplaced your rook to let him correct you. You let the game linger a bit - not wanting to give him a completely easy game, but still throwing it nonetheless. You played with just enough competence for him to see potential in you as a player.

When the game had finished, after Rhys checked you in forty-three moves, you asked, “how about a wager? I’m getting the hang of this, I think I could beat you.”

You watched his lips twitch in delight, looking down as he reset the board. “I don’t think it’d be a fair game. I have been playing for five centuries.”

You shrugged, unbothered by the time he’s spent playing. “And I just learned a few minutes ago. I’m sure there’s something I can do you’ve never seen before.”

His grin didn’t falter as he said, “if I win, you’ll try to show me what you did with Feyre and Az.”

“And if I win, while I’m here I get put on your line of credit so I can shop in Velaris.”

He leaned forward, his ring-clad hand fitting into your own. His skin was soft as he shook your hand, a small itching feeling taking over your inner wrist. “Deal.” You pulled your sleeve back just enough to see the knight piece there, the black ink shining as you rotated your wrist before covering it once more. 

A knight. A piece of unexpected maneuvers.

Your eyes flicked to his shirt, wondering where his bargain tattoo laid itself and what it was.

“White moves first, no?”

You picked up a pawn, the small piece a winged male with a sword raised, placing it for your first move.

-

“Check.”

You wanted to laugh at the crease in his brow as he took in the placement of your piece. You had him cornered, forcing his hand to leave his king undefended. He tried to keep a neutral face, but you could tell he was not used to losing at this game - much less in twenty moves. 

“And you’ve never played before?”

“Not until our practice game earlier.”

He grimaced, his eyes looking toward the pawn you had used in the first move staring down his king. The whole game he had been off, performing a strange strategy. You were half-convinced he couldn’t actually read minds with the way he played - his defensive strategy was so far from your strategy, it allowed you to check much faster than you anticipated.

He grumbled as he leaned back in his seat, but something about him felt off. Something in your chest felt heavy as you looked at him, some deep sadness permeating your insides. You looked at him, cocking your head before looking away, the feeling dissipating slowly. You looked back at him, the sadness returning. 

“What’s on your mind?”

Your voice startled him from his grumbling before he shook his head, the feeling in your chest swirling with something new. Fear, perhaps. 

He tapped his fingers against the table, a quick rhythm. “Nothing.”

You knocked over one of his pieces, causing him to look at you. His violet eyes were wide and searching, so different to the stories you had heard of him all your life.

His presence in your chest felt devastating, as if his world were crumbling around him. 

“I can feel you.”

His hand dragged his face, stopping halfway at your words. “What?”

“You feel.. sad. “

He sat up straighter, his hands moving to the table in front of him. “Have you been able to feel anyone else?”

His tone was serious, causing you to stutter out, “no, no never. I’ve felt the things I did with Feyre and Azriel but I’ve never.. Felt someone like this. I mean I could feel when people cried or were angry, but I’ve never been able to feel something that didn’t have a visible cue.”

He stood up, standing in front of you, his hands on your face. “So you’ve never felt this before with anyone here?”

You shook your head, fear creeping in at his tone and how drastically he changed. He nodded, pulling his hands from his face. He turned, his steps rushed as he walked out of the room, nothing to note his farewell.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

I got cursed series taglist: @doodlebugg16-blog @ceoofyearning @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @anarchiii @i-am-infinite @bsenpai @sstrohma @teenagellamaangel @allthatisbuck1917 @elsie-bells @rcarbo1 @pruvii @whyshouldihaveanam3 @sleepylunarwolf

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

[supernova-stardust]

No One Has To Know What We Do

jegulus | 18+ | 5,602 words | kinktober submission

@jeguluskinktoberr day 26 - mirror sex

Regulus has worked his entire life to earn a spot at Juilliard in their ballet program, but one day he's late to class and is forced to teach the Columbia football team their monthly ballet lesson. Enter James Potter: handsome, cocky, and annoying. Obviously, Regulus hates him immediately and can't resist his charm.

OR

Regulus and James hook up in the ballet studio after class and make a mess of the mirror (and each other).

This fic was written specifically for Jegulus Kinktober 2024 and contains the following prompts:

cunnilingus/deep throating, marking, impact play, semi-public sex, punishments, praise kink, mirror sex, breathplay

entire fic after the break or read on ao3, minors: dni

Regulus had never been late to class in his entire life. In fact, he typically showed up at least a half hour early to warm up, stretch, and make sure that he always got his favorite spot at the barre. Ballet was a wonderful discipline and he prided himself on being the most disciplined. He was never, ever late. That’s part of what had earned him his spot here in the first place. Very few people made it to the college level for ballet, let alone men. Nevermind Juilliard. He had goals, namely to be a part of the NYC Ballet Company and perform until he physically couldn’t anymore.

And so, the fact that he was running late today felt so unreal, it was like an out-of-body experience. Of course every single thing that could have gone wrong did go wrong and as he entered the room huffing out of breath with everyone staring at him, he knew that he was in for the worst class of his life.

“Lovely of you to join us, Regulus. I was just telling everyone who arrived on time that the studio will be closed to private practices this evening to allow the Columbia football team to have their monthly lesson,” his instructor explained as he set his belongings down on the floor in the corner and made his way to the barre. Thankfully, his spot was empty. Dancers were creatures of habit after all. “I was going to ask for a volunteer to stay tonight and teach their lesson, but since you’re late, I believe you should have the energy to stay late today.”

Fuck. Of course the only time he was late he would get saddled with teaching the football jocks. It was well known that none of them took their lessons seriously.

“Of course, I’d be happy to stay,” he said instead of voicing his honest thoughts. He’d rather drown himself than stay late for people who didn’t even respect the work they did, but saying no wasn’t exactly an option if he wanted to maintain his instructor's respect.

***

As the football team filed into the studio, Regulus felt more nervous and exposed than he expected. Growing up, he always knew he was a man. He started testosterone the moment he turned eighteen, despite his parents disowning him for it and in his everyday life he never thought about ‘passing’ anymore. He rarely, if ever, experienced dysphoria anymore. No one he knew before transitioning went to university with him and really the only person who knew and he saw regularly was his older brother, Sirius. Despite all of that, being surrounded by muscular and extremely masculine men had him questioning his ability to 'pass' for the first time in a long time. Every guy who walked in made him feel more and more self conscious. His body was toned and muscular, he couldn’t dance for hours on end if he wasn’t fit, but where he was all lithe limbs and grace, these men were bulky muscles, sharp jawlines, and reminded him of the picture-perfect portrayal of masculinity. 

“Please spread yourselves out on the barre along the wall and stretch while we wait for everyone to arrive,” Regulus announced. He heard murmurings of jokes and complaints but didn't deign them important enough to respond. He scrolled through the music app on his phone, searching for his preferred playlist that he listened to for warmups when he was alone. He hoped that it worked well enough for the class today, but figured that the jocks in the room wouldn’t notice if it didn’t anyway. As he connected his phone to the bluetooth speaker in the studio, a man with dark, messy hair and richly tanned skin ambled into the studio. The man’s warm brown eyes crinkled behind golden framed glasses as he laughed loudly at something one of his teammates said as they came into the studio together, not caring about the etiquette of staying quiet in the studio to avoid disruptions.

Regulus hated him immediately.

The two men shoved at each other a bit before Regulus cleared his throat. The two of them froze and looked at him, the one wearing glasses raking his eyes up and down Regulus’ body. “There’s a time and place for… whatever it is you’re doing,” Regulus snapped at them. “This is neither. Please, take a spot at the barre so we can get class started. Might I remind you that this is a requirement for your training and your coach relies on my feedback to know whether or not you're participating properly.”

They went completely stone-faced and found their ways to the barre at Regulus' scolding, clearly wanting to make sure that they didn't need to repeat this lesson in order to continue to be a part of the team. Regulus went through the motions of showing the team a very basic combination to start and pressed play on the music. “Five, six, seven, eight,” he counted out and led the class into their warmup. Once he was sure that they had the basic combination down, he began making his rounds down the barre, offering subtle corrections and moving their bodies as needed. When Regulus made his way to the man with the golden skin and messy hair, he placed his hands on his hips and adjusted him properly.

“At least ask my name first, love,” the man joked, his eyes crinkling in that annoyingly cute way as he smiled wide. 

“Does it matter? Neither of us wants to be here,” Regulus retorted.

“Aw, c’mon. You don’t know that.” He tilted his hips again and Regulus swore it was intentional. “My name’s James, by the way.”

“James, you know what I want you to do?” Regulus asked as he corrected his hips again.

“What’s that, love?”

“Shut up and hold your hips properly.”

James hummed and looked as though he’s deep in thought for a moment before he replied. “I’d prefer if you held them, I think.” 

His teammate behind him at the barre stifled a laugh and looked away quickly when Regulus glared at him. Regulus groaned in annoyance and walked away, figuring that ignoring him was the better option for class to be able to continue with as few disruptions as possible.

After what Regulus swore was the longest hour of his life, he dismissed the class and informed them that he would be emailing their coach to confirm that they all completed the class and to schedule their time for the following month. The men all nodded and said their thanks as they grabbed their belongings and shuffled out the door. All except for one. When only Regulus and James remained in the studio, Regulus walked over to his bag on the floor and pulled on his oversized sweater and baggy sweatpants. He sat on the floor and peeled his black ballet shoes off his feet while watching James standing in the middle of the studio. His entire life he’d been under a microscope, having his body analyzed and critiqued for every slight imperfection, but he’d never felt more heavily scrutinized than while James was staring at him alone in this space. 

“You can leave now,” Regulus snapped. After ten hours in the studio, he was ready to leave and he didn’t want to entertain this immature man any longer than he had to.

“I just— You never told me your name.”

“That was intentional.”

James stepped closer to him and while normally being alone with a man like this might make him uncomfortable, Regulus couldn’t help but feel drawn to everything about him, his casual confidence pulling him in. If they were in different circumstances and had met in a more controlled setting where Regulus could make sure that he was cool with the fact that he was trans before any flirting happened, Regulus might have even wanted to date this annoying man. Or at least fuck him. He hated James for it.

“Are you really gonna make me beg? I’m not above getting on my knees, you know.”

Fucking hell, this guy.

“Regulus.”

The corner of James’ mouth quirked up in a smirk and he took another step closer. “Regulus,” he said in a way that made his name sound like sin. “I’ve never met anyone named Regulus before. A unique name for a unique beauty.”

Regulus scoffed as he stood, grabbing his bag and slipping on his slides as he tried to step around James. “Thanks. Picked it out myself. Are you done? I’d like to go home now.”

“Picked it out— oh, that’s cool.” James stepped into his path and walked backwards as Regulus continued walking towards the door as if James wasn't even there. When they reached the door, James pressed his back to it and smiled down at him. “Look, I’m gonna be really honest with you, I think you’re hot.”

Regulus glared at him in response, crossing his arms and pushing his weight into one hip. He said nothing while James seemed to squirm under his cold eyes before continuing on.

“I, uh, I don’t date,” James explained. “Too busy between football, school, friends, and work. Feels rude to demand someone’s attention when I can’t give them mine.”

“I have a hard time believing you care about being rude.”

“Says the meanest guy I’ve ever met, I mean, fuck. You didn’t even give me a chance to— anyway, you’re hot. For some reason, I think I’m into the whole mean thing. We’re here all alone and I’m sure you’re the one with the keys to lock up.”

“Are you trying to hook up with me?” Regulus raised an eyebrow in question.

“Are you flattered?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” James whined as he banged his head on the door behind him. “Have you ever had a hot quarterback want to fuck you in the dance studio? You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t think about it at all during that class. You had us all bent over, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is a learning environment,” Regulus replied. “I’m a professional, you know.” He refused to admit that he absolutely was staring at James’ ass every time he passed by, but now he wondered if the man had seen him in the mirrors lining the walls.

“Please, you’re not as subtle as you think.”

Regulus’ cheeks turned pink at that and he felt the blush all the way to his ears.

“I’ll move so we can both go home if you can honestly tell me that you don’t want to hook up. But I have a feeling that you want this as badly as I do.”

The silence that stretched between them was charged with desire. As much as he hated the guy, Regulus wanted James so badly it hurt. But he was also terrified of, well, everything. Being a gay trans man came with a lot of disclaimers beforehand, in his experience. He tried to hint at the fact that he was trans earlier and James said he was cool, but did he really know what he was getting himself into by continuing to hit on Regulus? If he told James outright, would he be safe here alone with him? 

Regulus let out a shaky breath before he spoke again. “I— I don’t usually hook up like this.”

“It’s fine, it can stay between us.”

Oh, why did that hurt? Why didn’t he want to be kept as a dirty little secret? What was it about James that made him… want? He’d never wanted anyone like this before. 

“It’s not that, It’s— I’m trans.”

“Okay?” James’ eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure why that matters?”

Regulus gaped at him, unsure how to even respond to the confusing man before him.

“I think you’re hot,” James continued, saving Regulus from having to formulate a response. “I’m pretty sure you think I’m hot, though you haven’t admitted it. If I was a more self conscious man, I might feel a bit inadequate if I’m honest. We’re young and we have this place to ourselves for the night. I’m clean too, if you were wondering.”

“I’m clean,” Regulus responded without processing the rest of what James just said. 

James smiled at that. “So?”

“So?”

“You want to go home or can I kiss you already?”

Regulus dropped his bag on the floor next to him with a loud thud and crashed his lips onto James’, crowding his body against the door. Their first kiss was a cruel thing, the building energy between them finally boiling over into something physical. James’ arms wrapped around Regulus, one snaking down to his lower back and the other gripping the nape of his neck. When Regulus brushed his tongue along the seam of James’ lips, he opened for him and Regulus allowed himself to indulge in exploring James’ mouth.

Regulus reached a hand down towards the knob of the studio door near James’ hip and clicked the lock in place while they continued kissing. He felt James smirk against his mouth and pulled back, glaring at the taller man he had pinned against the wall with his body.

“What?” Regulus snapped. He would never admit it outloud, but really wasn’t sure why this man’s cocky attitude was so attractive. That smirk on his face made him melt and Regulus knew that he was in for a world of hurt after this was all over and James wanted nothing to do with him again.

“Planning on more than a kiss?”

“You were the one who—”

“I know, shh, I’m just teasing.” James placed a quick peck on Regulus’ lips. “I feel like I’m pushing my luck here by asking, but do you have a condom?”

Regulus felt his face heat. He normally wasn’t embarrassed by sex, honestly. There was just something about this Adonis of a man trapped against the door in front of him asking him for a condom that felt like an out-of-body experience. “Uh, I think so, let me check.” He dropped down to his knees and rifled through his bag, trying to ignore the heavy weight of James’ gaze on him. When he found the condom, he grabbed it and looked up, holding the condom up like a prize. James’ eyes were heavy with desire and when Regulus went to stand up, James buried a hand into his hair to hold him in place. 

“You look so pretty on your knees, Regulus.”

“I’d look prettier with your cock in my mouth.”

“Oh,” James tightened his grip in his hair and Regulus let out a wanton moan at the feeling. “You are a good boy, aren’t you?”

Regulus hummed in response and reached for the waistband of James’ shorts, tugging them and his boxers down just low enough to free his hard cock. Regulus leaned forward against the resistance of the hand buried in his hair and lapped at the precum beading at the tip. James groaned at the feeling and pumped himself a couple of times in front of Regulus’ face. Regulus raised himself up higher on his knees and dragged his hands up under James’ shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his abdomen and back before he licked at a vein along the underside of his cock and then sucked him into the back of his throat, taking as much of him in his mouth as possible. 

He bobbed his head a few times, relishing at the feeling of James’ hand threaded in his dark curls guiding his movements, then pulled back and ran his tongue up his entire length. He swirled his tongue around the tip once, twice, then pushed his tongue at the slit, moaning at the unique salty taste that was James. When he looked up under hooded eyes, they locked eyes and James gave him a pleased smile.

“Fuck,” James breathed. “You’re so good for me, you do look so pretty just like this, I knew you would. Can you be such a good boy and let me fuck your throat, hm?”

Regulus squirmed as he opened his mouth with his tongue flat, feeling hot wetness pooling between his legs. When he felt James slide his cock back into his mouth, he relaxed his throat and surrendered completely to the pace that James set. He felt James shift so he had one hand on both sides of his head and Regulus adjusted so that both of his hands gripped James' hips. He was slow at first, unsure of how Regulus would handle his size, but grew more confident when Regulus moaned around his cock. Soon, the pace was unrelenting and Regulus felt his eyes watering, tears streaming down his face. Spit ran down his chin and he found that he didn't care at all. He dug his fingers into James' hips, hoping to leave bruises. Evidence that he had James, if only for a little while. He barely had any room to breathe between the strokes as James continued to thrust into him, focused entirely on his own pleasure.

Before he knew it, James pulled himself out of Regulus’ mouth. He bent down to wipe the spit off of Regulus' chin with his thumb then languidly sucked at it before pressing the pad of his thumb against Regulus' bottom lip. Regulus swiped his tongue out and caught James' thumb in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the digit. James smirked, pulling his thumb away and wiped at the tracks of tears on Regulus' face with his thumbs. Regulus whined a needy sound at feeling so empty, rubbing his thighs together in hopes that any form of friction would bring him relief. James leaned in to kiss him before pulling Regulus to his feet as he tucked his erection back into his shorts.

“Shh,” James soothed, pushing his hair away from his face and placing soft kisses on his cheeks. “Let me return the favor, c’mon.”

James grabbed his hand and dragged a boneless Regulus to the center of the room. When he got there, he held up one finger, signaling for Regulus to wait a moment. Regulus wanted to pout, but watched as James went to the corner of the room where a stack of folding chairs leaned against the wall. He grabbed one and carried it back to where Regulus stood, opened it up, then pushed Regulus into the seat facing the mirror covered wall. 

Regulus reached his hands out towards James’ hips and tugged him closer, hoping to return to having that beautiful cock in his mouth before James clicked his tongue softly. “I said I was going to return the favor, baby.” James knelt down and looped his fingers under the waistband of Regulus’ sweatpants. “Can I?”

“In front of the mirror?”

“Why not?” James shrugged. “It’s hot. Plus it’s not like there’s anywhere in this room without a mirror. Might as well make good use of it.” James playfully tugged at Regulus' waistband with one hand again as he removed his glasses with the other and set them to the side on the floor. “Are you gonna make me beg or can we continue?”

Regulus nodded as he shifted his hips so James could pull at his baggy sweatpants, then he heard James laugh as he pulled at the baggy shorts underneath his sweatpants revealing yet another pair of shorts, these ones much tighter and shorter. “So many layers,” James huffed. “Why do you need so many layers?” He pulled down the shorts and finally got to Regulus’ underwear. Pulling those down, he unbunched all of the layers of pants from around his ankles and threw them to the side. The cold metal of the folding chair bit into Regulus’ skin as he sat there in just his baggy sweater feeling extremely exposed.

“Keeps the muscles warm in between—” All thoughts of the logistics in layering clothing during ballet were lost as he felt James spreading his legs apart. James bit down on the soft skin of his innermost thigh as he slid his hands up to Regulus’ hips. He allowed James to pull him towards the edge of the seat, tilting his hips up to give James better access. 

Regulus writhed at the first feeling of James’ tongue on him and he let out a shameless moan that echoed around the room. He tilted his head back and allowed his legs to fall open in pure pleasure. James grabbed under his thighs to hike his legs up over his shoulders, giving himself more access as he continued devouring Regulus, licking and sucking at him. When Regulus glanced up, he looked at the two of them in the mirror. Watching James on his knees worshiping his body, he understood immediately why James said it would be hot. He had never seen a sight quite so erotic and between the feeling of James sucking on his most sensitive nerves and the reflection before him, he climaxed hard and fast. His orgasm rippled through him and James reacted by moaning as he pushed his tongue inside him, lapping at his release. 

As he came down from the orgasm, James slowed down and started kissing down his thighs, sucking small bruises along the way. Normally, Regulus would ask his lovers to avoid leaving marks like that, especially since they were so visible in classes, but something about James made him want to be claimed. He wanted people to know they were together, and for a time, be able to say that he belonged to James.

Just when he felt like he was coming back into his body, James pushed two fingers inside him and curled them up at the perfect angle, hitting the sensitive walls inside his body. Regulus felt his entire body jolt with pleasure as James’ tongue returned to between his thighs, circling the sensitive nerves and flicking in time with his fingers. 

“Fuck,” Regulus whined, feeling his body climbing rapidly towards another orgasm.

James pulled back to gaze up at him, his fingers continuing at a punishing pace. “I know you can cum for me again, baby. Show me what a pretty boy you are while you cum on my fingers.” He bit into his leg just above his knee and sucked a bruise, watching his fingers pumping in and out of Regulus’ body. His orgasm crashed through his body again and James moaned at the sight, dipping his head between his legs again and giving him one languid lick before pulling back and smiling up at Regulus. He sucked on his fingers and made a show of licking off every drop, giving Regulus a visual reminder of how skilled he was with that tongue.

“Think you can go again?” James asked from between his legs. Regulus had no doubt in his mind that if he said yes, the man would sit between his thighs all night long, and maybe if they hooked up again he’d get the opportunity to experience it, but for now he really wanted to know what he felt like buried deep inside him.

Regulus shook his head and pulled off his oversized sweater, then the white tee underneath until he was sitting in the middle of the room, fully exposed. “Your turn, you have a criminal amount of clothing on your body.”

James barked a laugh and practically ripped off his clothes as he stood. He grabbed Regulus’ hand and hoisted him to his feet, pulling him in close to his naked body. The feeling of their bare skin brushing against each other was enough to set Regulus’ overstimulated nerves alight. He moaned as he leaned in for a kiss, tasting a heady combination of the two of them on James’ lips.

“I’m going to grab the condom,” James said against Regulus’ lips, his breath hot. He kissed down Regulus’ jaw and neck before he continued. “Go stand facing the mirror for me.”

“I—”

“If you don’t want me to take control, tell me now sweetheart.” James said softly. He placed a quick peck against his lips. “Otherwise, I’m going to get a little bossy from here on out.”

Regulus nodded, then moved to stand facing the mirror while James dug through their discarded clothes for the condom Regulus had found earlier. When he returned, James stood behind him and gently grasped at his jaw, ensuring they made eye contact through the mirror.

“Familiar with the traffic light color system?”

Regulus nodded again and James clicked his tongue. “I’m going to need verbal confirmation here, baby.”

“Yes.” 

“Good, so if you want me to stop immediately you say?”

“Red,” Regulus answered without hesitation.

“And if I check in and you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Green.”

“Good boy. Last one, then we can continue. If you need to pause or something doesn’t feel right?”

“Yellow.”

James kissed his neck from where he stood behind him and smiled. “Very good. Now, hands against the glass for me. And they’re not allowed to move at all. Your pretty little ass will get a beating if they do. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes… Sir?”

James clicked his tongue and Regulus could tell that he was disappointed. "Come now, you can do better than that."

Regulus wracked his brain searching for whatever it was that James was asking. Finally, it came to him after he reflected on all the times James had called him 'baby' and a 'good boy.'

"Yes, Daddy."

James let out a groan at that, moving his hand down from Regulus’ jaw to his throat and squeezing slightly. Regulus keened and pushed his hips back towards James, searching for friction. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” James said as he pulled back and ripped at the condom wrapper. Regulus whined at the loss of the hand around his throat and turned around. He draped his arms around James' shoulders and sought out his lips for a kiss.

With the condom not fully unwrapped, James froze and gripped Regulus’ throat, stopping him from the kiss he was seeking. “What did I say, baby?”

“Oh, please.” Regulus scoffed when James loosened his grip just enough to allow him to reply. “We hadn’t even started yet.”

James’ eyes darkened at that. “Did I or did I not tell you that if you moved your hands from the mirror, you’d be punished?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you want to push me to find out how serious I am?” At the silence hanging between them, James smirked. “Now, turn around. Hands on the mirror. I’m going to spank you five times and you’re going to count out each one, thanking me for every one. If you stop counting or lose your manners, you’ll earn five more. Understand?”

“Yes.” Regulus followed his instructions, placing his hands on the cold mirror and breathing as evenly as he could.

“Yes what?” James kneaded his ass, making him even more sensitive to the touch.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy. Color?”

“Green.”

James hummed in acknowledgement before his hand slapped Regulus’ ass. Regulus let out a surprised yelp. 

“Count, baby. I won’t remind you again.”

“One,” Regulus cried out. “Thank you, Daddy.”

James’ hand smacked down again, the sound echoing in the room, and Regulus gasped at the shock of pain that rippled through his body. “Two. Thank you, Daddy.” Regulus looked up into the mirror, taking in James’ hungry face. 

“Maybe you can be trained, baby. Three more. You’re doing so good.”

With each slap to his ass, Regulus became more sensitive and felt himself slipping into a hazy headspace where everything felt like pure pleasure shooting to every nerve in his body. When he finally reached number five, James dropped to his knees behind him and rubbed at his cheeks before pulling them apart and licking all the way from his sensitive nerves to his ass. He circled the ring of muscle with his tongue and pushed in slightly.

“Fuck,” James breathed hot against him. “You did so good, baby. You’re fucking dripping for me. Have you learned your lesson? Will you be a good boy and let me fuck you now?”

Regulus nodded, a whine escaping his throat that he would normally feel embarrassed about.

“Words, baby.”

“Yeah— Yes, please. Please fuck me, Daddy. I need your cock inside me.”

James bit into one cheek of his ass before he stood up, grabbing the condom and rolling it on. “Anything for you,” James murmured as he lined himself up with Regulus’ entrance. They made eye contact in the mirror as James pushed in slowly, using both hands to grip onto Regulus’ hips and position him perfectly. “Color?”

“Green. Fuck, so fucking green.”

Finally, James moved his hips. Regulus had never been a religious man, but he swore that he found a new religion at the feeling of James inside him. James moved his hips in purposeful, deep thrusts, making Regulus see stars with each shift inside him. Regulus’ eyes closed and his head tilted back as he relished in the sensation until he felt a strong hand on his jaw. The grip was unyielding and Regulus knew that he’d do whatever the man this hand belonged to said.

“Eyes on me, baby,” James purred. “I want you to watch me ruin you for anyone else.”

Regulus cried out a moan and opened his eyes, taking in their bodies in the mirror. His hot breath fogged the mirror in front of him as James pounded into him from behind, both of them glistening with sweat. James’ face was smug as he continued to hold onto Regulus’ jaw, not offering him any way of avoiding watching their bodies. 

James’ pace started to slow, but he somehow managed to make it feel like he was impossibly deeper inside Regulus’ body. He snaked a hand down towards the bundle of nerves between Regulus’ legs and rubbed in confident circles, pushing Regulus closer and closer to the edge. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly experience more pleasure than he was already tasting, James’ hand slid down from his jaw to his throat and squeezed. The restriction of blood flow to his brain made Regulus feel fuzzy as he dissolved into pure pleasure. His knees buckled and he arched his back, pushing his ass into James’ hips as his orgasm washed over him. A moment later, James let out a moan and Regulus felt him pulsing inside of him as he followed him over the edge.

James ghosted his fingers along the side of Regulus’ neck as they rode out the last of their orgasms and he kissed his shoulder. When he pulled out, he took off the condom and tied it off, then walked over to toss it in the trash can next to the door. Regulus turned to lean against the mirror, watching James stride back towards him. Regulus gave him a weak, hazy smile.

“You okay?” James asked. He placed a quick peck on Regulus’ lips and rubbed soothing circles on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I—” James interrupted him by kissing him again. “I thought you said this was a one-time thing?” Regulus questioned.

“That doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated like shit, Regulus.”

Regulus gave him a flat look before he pushed off the mirror and walked to where his clothes were piled on the ground. He started pulling on his many layers and by the time he was fully dressed again, he glanced over to see James standing watching him, still completely nude. Regulus bent over to grab his glasses on the floor and handed them to him. “What?” Regulus asked.

James pushed his glasses on his face and for the first time, Regulus witnessed a flustered James. “Look, I know what I said, but can I have your number anyway?”

“I won’t be your late night, drunk booty call, James.”

“I just…this was a lot of fun. It’d be nice to do it again sometime, that’s all.”

“So, a sober booty call?”

“No, I—”

“Listen, how about you give me your number? If I’m ever feeling like having you boss me around again, I’ll give you a call. How’s that?” Regulus raised an eyebrow as he pulled his cell out of his sweatpants pocket and held it out to James in offering.

James hesitated to take the phone from his hand, clearly playing a game of mental chess on how to obtain Regulus’ number, but Regulus refused to be a pawn in his games. “This is my only offer, it expires once your pants are on. Take it or leave it.”

Sighing, James grabbed his phone and created a new contact with his phone number, then handed it back to Regulus.

“‘Daddy,’ really? You seriously put your name as ‘Daddy’ in my phone?”

James smirked, then began dressing himself. “I figured you’d remember me that way.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but internally he might as well have been giggling and kicking his feet. He stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on James’ cheek. “I’ll consider calling you, Daddy,” he said and then he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Clean the mirror and take that trash bag out with you, yeah? I can’t have my teacher finding out about this.”

“You got it, baby.”

As Regulus walked out of the studio, he thought to himself that he should absolutely not call James again. He made a bargain with himself anyway that if he was still thinking about him in a few months, he’d gladly fall back into that man’s arms again.

[greynatomy]

regret

leah williamson x reader

actually finished writing something! wooo! the poll i put out was a close one, but this pair ultimately won. thanks to all who voted.

i’ve decided to split this into two parts, so this isn’t the end peoples!

part 2

———

“Alright. Remember, when we get there—”

“—pretend that we’re still happily married. I know.” You say annoyed, getting out of the car.

“Hey, don’t be like that!” Leah gets out of the car, catching up to you.

“Be like what? I’m not the one who got us in this situation.”

“Can we just be civil? This is the last time we’ll go through this.”

“Piss off will you! We wouldn’t have to act civil if you kept your mouth to yourself. And you had the audacity to file for divorce.”

Before Leah could reply, the front door opens to reveal Amanda, Leah’s Mom.

“Oh, I’ve missed you girls so much!”

Putting up a smile on your face, you engulfed the woman in a hug.

“Missed you too Amanda.”

“Come in! Come in!”

“Oi! David how’ve you been pops?”

“Oh, I’ve been wonderful! Glad to have you here!” He pulls you into a hug.

“There’s my favorite sister!” You hear behind you, Jacob just coming down the stairs from his room.

“Come here you! It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has! You gotta visit me more often.” You tense a bit, but not enough for him to notice in your embrace, putting up a smile on your face.

“I’ll try to visit more.”

What you don’t see behind you is Leah watching your interactions with her family.

You’ve known each other young. You’ve both been dating since you were fifteen, marrying at nineteen, divorced at twenty-one.

Her family’s have welcomed you with open arms since the beginning. You were her first serious relationship. The only one of her girlfriends that her family loved. You’ve had your whole life basically planned out, Leah would become a footballer, you a doctor, marriage, kids, the dream basically.

Leah didn’t know the exact reason why she did what she did, but it happened and she couldn’t take it back. She knew this teammate of hers has liked her for a while and never told her off.

She woke up to an unfamiliar bed, an arm around her that certainly wasn’t you. She regretted it the moment she woke up, didn’t know how to tell you, but you found out before she could. Ashamed of herself, Leah filed for divorce.

———

Leah didn’t know what she was thinking divorcing you. She didn’t have the right to be the one to file as she was the one who fucked up. It was impulsive and shameful. It was the best option she could think of at the time.

Now here she was, five years later, at the Emirates training grounds, about to run for the first time since her ACL injury. She missed you so much during this time. Every time she was injured in any way, you were always by her side nursing her back to health. You were her support system, making her fall more in love with you. This time, without you by her side, she realized how much she took you for granted, how she didn’t show you enough love, betraying you in the worst way possible.

She’d already signed the divorce papers, pressuring you to do the same all while making you go to her family’s for a dinner pretending that nothing has changed between the two of you. It was when she finally saw your signature on the papers was when she realized how she’s lost you for good.

———

Getting back home after a family walk, Amanda spots a stack of papers on the kitchen counter, a folded paper on top, along with two rings. Curious, she opens it up and quickly skims through them, shock fills her body after she finished reading.

“Leah!” She yells for her daughter.

“Yeah, mum?” Leah walks into the kitchen to see her mom holding something up.

“What the hell is this?”

Leah being clueless, grabs the sheet, reading it herself.

Leah,

I’ve finally signed everything you’ve been wanting me to sign. I don’t know why I’ve put it off for so long even if I’m not the one at fault. Guess it’s just hard to let go of the one you love the most.

Don’t contact me. Don’t look for me. You’re free.

Yn

Leah couldn’t even respond to her mother. All the emotions she bottled up came at her all at once, breaking down in front of her family. Six years of relationship, one year of marriage over.

[wreckingtickles]

1 Hour in Tickle Hell!

Sir Nighteye doesn't appreciate Izuku endangering himself, and Mirio takes it upon himself to punish him as customary for their agency...

Characters: Lee Izuku, ler Mirio

Words: 7,757

Big thanks to @sleepysheepytea for letting me use her wonderful leezuku piece as a preview image! If you're reading this, you probably have already, but if not, go give her a like!

Intense tickles under the cut!

“Reckless endangerment! You act like your life is of no consequence! But if you die, who is going to save everyone?”

That was the fifth rhetorical question Sir Nighteye asked of a bashful Midoriya as he paced up and down his office, dressing down the stiff teenager.

“Self harm! You risk permanent damage every time you push your Quirk too far, and if your disregard for your own health wasn’t a serious enough matter, what if you incapacitate yourself on the field? What if you had forced Mirio to choose between saving a civilian and you?!”

Neither was looking at the other, Nighteye yelling at the walls as if he couldn’t even bear to look at his intern at that moment, while his words weighed down Midoriya’s gaze and glued it to the floor. Deku understood everything the hero was saying, he realized he was right, but somehow he also knew that he’d make the same choices every single time.

Nighteye’s furious steps halted as he lowered his voice, “And worst of all…” he began before dramatically turning to point an accusatory finger at Izuku, “Your smile wavered! Who is going to believe that there is any hope if they feel like their rescuer is lying to them?!”

Once again, the intern said nothing. All Might’s former sidekick was going to kick him out of the agency, and even as he dreaded that verdict, part of him seemed to think he’d done nothing wrong. Was he really that arrogant?

“For all these infractions, I sentence you…”

Deku closed his eyes as if in preparation for a hard blow to the head.

“...to one hour in Tickle Hell.”

Wait, what? Izuku dared to look up. Nighteye’s impenetrable expression gave nothing away except his usual earnestness. Was that really it?

Mirio, still in his hero costume, piped up next to Izuku. “Sir, the machine broke.”

“Again?!”

“Tiffany’s coming on Monday.”

“Then you’ll carry out his punishment,” commanded Nighteye as he took his seat behind his desk. He’d already checked out of the conversation. “Any problems with that?”

“None, Sir, but since it’s his first time, might we do it after closing time?”

“Very well. Make sure you close up after you’re done.”

—

“Yeah, I lied about the machine,” revealed Mirio with a chuckle. “I just thought it’d be weird for you, especially since it’s your first time.”

“Oh. Thank you,” replied Izuku tentatively, not quite sure what to make out of the surreal deal. If nothing else, he was grateful he wasn’t being tickled in front of everyone else, though Mirio calling it his “first time” didn’t bode too well for his future.

“So, let’s take a seat!” urged Mirio cheerfully, wheeling out two office chairs so they faced each other and motioning for Izuku to choose one.

Blushing to his ears, Izuku took a seat. Mirio plopped down in the other, the mechanism groaning a little under his weight. He was being goofy to put him at ease, Izuku knew, and he wished he could be grateful for it, but the whole situation was too awkward. 

Mirio was sitting there in front of him with his comforting smile, as if it was a perfectly normal thing. And it probably was, in Sir’s agency. It’s not like his classmates didn’t tickle him all the time either. Literally: all the time. Apparently, he was just too adorable when he laughed. And while it could be very annoying, he didn’t mind too much, since he could tell it was done with affection and not to humiliate him. But he hadn’t known Mirio that long…

“Hey, you still there?” Mirio’s question snapped him out of his reverie. “You were muttering to yourself.”

“Sorry, it’s just… I feel bad that you lied to Sir Nighteye for me.”

“He probably knows and knows why I did it. And besides, I don’t really mind the machine. It’s a good time,” explained Mirio with his usual jolly tone. “So, you ok with me tickling you?”

Izuku blushed a deeper shade of red and nodded. What else could he say?

“Good! Do you want to set the timer, or should I?”

He was making him feel like an active participant. He had to be an incredible hero in a crisis. But Izuku was too nervous and couldn’t remember where he’d left his phone. “You, uh, you can do it.”

“Great! I’ll set it to 10 minutes, then you get a 2-minute break. That’s how the machine operates. So if you factor in the breaks, you’re only being tickled for 50 minutes! ” explained Mirio as he set the timer on his phone and placed it on the desk next to Midoriya, so he could check it at will. “One last thing! I need you to take off your shoes and socks. Oh, and to make it count, I need to tickle you under your T-shirt, or you can take it off if you prefer. Is that ok with you?”

“D-Do you really have to?”

“Yep!” said Mirio, clapping his hands on his thighs. “I agree with Sir, you need to learn that your well-being matters, so don’t expect me to play nice!”

Maybe the machine wouldn’t have been so bad after all. But then he remembered that each time he’d seen the machine in action, it always started with those fuzzy appendages that targeted the poor hero’s sides and hips, and Izuku shivered at the memory. One hour of the spot his classmates had told him was his worst for a whole hour?! No way.

“O-ok,” stammered Izuku as he began to remove his bright red shoes, carefully tucking them aside. He also slipped off his black socks - thankfully the agency had showers and he’d been able to wash up - balled them up, and put one inside each shoe.

“You’re very tidy, good for you!” praised Mirio, but Izuku was too tongue-tied to utter anything other than a bashful “Thanks.”

Izuku sat back down, forcing himself to keep his bare soles planted on the ground and to keep his back straight, his hands balled into nervous fists on his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to hide his face behind his knees and die of embarrassment.

Mirio was looking at him with that smile of his. There was no telling what he was thinking. “Oh, can you start the timer?” he asked suddenly.

“Y-Yes,” answered Izuku, anything to keep his mind off of what was about to happen. He reached his hand toward the desk, tapped the screen… and suddenly found himself in a world of hysterics as Mirio’s hands snuck up to his sides.

“WAHAHAHAHAHIHIHIT!!! IIHIHIHHI WAAHAHAHAHASN’T REEEHEHEHEHEHADDY!!!!”

“Not good, Midoriya! Expect the unexpected!” advised Mirio while his strong hands went on squeezing the green bean’s sensitive flanks. 

Izuku tried batting them away, grabbing his wrists, using any self-defense technique he’d learned, but Mirio was much stronger than him and even a mere few seconds of tickling had messed up his coordination. Betrayed by his own sensitive body, again!

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!”

It didn’t even matter that the senpai was tickling him through his T-shirt, all Midoriya seemed to be able to do was sink deeper into the chair and laugh as Mirio loomed over him.

“Oh wow, you’ve got it bad!” remarked Mirio with a chuckle. “Are you ticklish anywhere else?” he asked as he moved up to the trainee’s ribs. This time, the fabric of Izuku’s statement shirt lessened the effect of the probing fingers that vibrated and raked at his ribcage with single-minded dedication. 

“AAAHAHahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEHHHEHEHahaahasssseeheheheh!!! StoohoHOHOHOHOP!”

“No can do, Midoriya! This is your punishment! Take your tickles with pride!”

Izuku couldn’t tell to what extent Mirio was teasing him and to what extent he was being his goofy self, but he found himself trying to hide his beet red face from his upperclassman, and failing miserably as the the thumbs suddenly pressing into the bottom of his ribcage forced him to squeal and to try to push the offenders away from him.

“NAAAAhahaahahahahahaha!!! IhihihihIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIcklehehehehehehehssss!!”

Mirio couldn’t believe how adorable the first year looked when he laughed freely, his face scrunched up and his beautiful smile on full display as the boyish laughter rang in the empty office, an informal welcome.

Mirio hadn’t expected it would be that much fun. He could tell that Izuku, after the shock of the first few moments, was torn between trying to escape the tickles and forcing himself to sit still and embrace his weird punishment, and the clash between his will and his sensitivity made his struggle all the more endearing.

But when the probing fingers entered Izuku’s underarms, Izuku was suddenly of a single mind about his predicament.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! TOOOHOHOHOGAHAHAHATA!!! IIII CAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNNN’TT!!!”

He had fully sunk in the back of the chair, his legs kicking wildly at either side of the goofy tickle monster as the latter leaned forward to negate Izuku’s attempt to merge with the cushion, his tongue stuck out in concentration as he was determined to mine that weak spot for all it was worth. 

Naturally, the greenette’s natural reaction was to clamp down his arms, succeeding at limiting the range of motion of those pesky fingers… too bad they were exactly where Mirio wanted and Izuku didn’t want them.

“TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIHHIIHHIIHMMEEE!!! TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHIHHIHIMME!!!” squealed izuku through the gales of laughter.

Mirio raised his head - he didn’t even need to relent to glance at the stopwatch - and gave him an apologetic smile. “Take my word for it, you don’t want to know,” he promised as his index fingers made a push deeper into the all too sensitive hollows.

“YAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

Mirio simply couldn’t believe how adorable the greenette sounded and looked when he was flailing in the throes of ticklish agony, his entire body tensing up from under Mirio, his eyes widening with shock for a moment, as the fingers inched upward and inward, teasing the very sensitive skin at the center of Midoriya’s underarms.

“OOOOOHOHOHOHO NOOOOHOHOHOOHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Izuku didn’t know what to do. They’d probably just started, but Mirio was going at it with an enthusiasm he hadn’t anticipated, he really seemed hell-bent on making that punishment feel like… a punishment.

But even through his T-shirt, it tickles so much that Izuku gave up hope of controlling his reactions, and he reflexively started pushing Mirio away in any way he could - and with his arms being out of commission as they were locked in their ineffective barricade, that meant trying to create enough space by wedging a knee against Mirio’s chest, then pushing with his other foot.

That maneuver had been created with grappling in mind; but in that specific scenario, it would lead to more harm and good, because when Mirio felt the foot push against his chest, he didn’t try to oppose it: he grabbed it. “Rookie mistake, young Midoriya.”

Izuku was almost relieved that first one hand, then the second left his poor pits alone. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late, because four fingers were already scribbling up and down his bare sole.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Nohohohoahaht thehehehehehehehehehehhere!!!”

It was only one foot, but there was no protective layer of fabric between the tickling fingers and the tickled sole, and Izuku really did not want to make the same mistake twice, so he tried to keep his other foot firmly planted on the ground, or at least out of Mirio’s reach, but no matter how hard he kicked, Mirio’s grip was a steel vise, and he only succeeded at rolling his chair farther and closer to his tickler.

For his part, Mirio was plenty happy to take his time with the one sole he got, a little squat and small in his hand, but arguably a little big on someone Izuku’s height, while he waited for the second to inevitably fall into his lap. He abandoned his scattershot approach in favor of a more analytical one, scratching briefly at the heel…

“Hahahahahahaha!!! Hehehehehehehehehehe!”

Then the scribbling fingers traveled up the arch, lingering on the instep when Mirio noticed that Izuku’s giggling grew more squeaky…

“Hahahahaahha!! NEHEHEHEHEhehehehehehehehhahahahaaha!!!”

He dragged his fingernails up and down the arch, and whenever Izuku would attempt to lessen the sensation by scrunching up his sole, Mirio would briefly focus on his arch right above his heel, constantly switching between those spots… It wasn’t just classmates who were oddly skilled at tickling!

“Ohohohohahahahahahahaha!! HAHAahahahahahahahahahaha!!”

Finally, the dull fingernails reached Izuku’s bubble-like toes, eliciting bubbly giggles and squeaks from the greenette, who gripped the armrests for dear life as Mirio seemed to have no intention of letting go and repeatedly stomped the ground with his other foot.

“NeheheehehHEHEHEHEHEEHHEEHE!!! Hahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha!!!”

“Your toes are so small and cute,” teased Mirio, proceeding to run his thumb on the underside of his toes before grabbing them one by one as if playing ‘this little piggy’. He’d noticed how Izuku wasn’t even trying to negotiate or plead, but had accepted his predicament even as his body fought against it. Either he didn’t hate it, or he was used to it.

Izuku went on squirming in his seat, floundering as his priorities were split between maintaining his balance and hiding his face. Mirio took that chance to lift his ankle higher, throwing him slightly off balance and forcing his other leg to kick out, and Mirio was ready, rapidly scooping both ankles in a headlock and spidering his fingers all over both soles.

“NOOOOhohohohhoho!!! SeheheehEHEHEHHEHEhenpaaaahahahahaihihi!!!! HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAahahahahahahhaha!!!”

“You sound so happy!” remarked Mirio, as if Izuku needed additional teasing. “Is this your most ticklish spot?” 

Izuku didn’t know if his armpits or his feet were worse despite the wealth of experience his classmates had regaled him with, they were bad in different ways, but he knew there was one spot that was even worse. He wasn’t going to say it, but he wasn’t going to lie either, and the compromise seemed to be to laugh his head off.

“I’m not hearing a no,” said Mirio as his frenzied scratching got faster, focusing on the arches and Izuku’s toes.

Izuku threw his head back as the ticklish sensation coursed up his body… and felt himself fall before his shoulders hit the ground.

Mirio stopped tickling him immediately. “Are you hurt?”

Izuku took a few deep breaths, shielding his face once more as he shook his head no.

“Good!” trilled Mirio before sending him into a new fit of laughter as he resumed tickling the squat soles. “Just kidding,” he said after a few moments, letting go of Izuku’s ankles and offering him a hand, which Izuku took. In a moment, he was back on his feet, welcoming the cold floor under his pink soles.

Izuku took that chance to glance at the timer. Six minutes. It hadn’t even been six minutes yet. Izuku went pale, meaning that his scarlet complexion dimmed to a dark pink. But he didn’t have a lot of time to mull over that piece of info, because he was suddenly pulled into Mirio’s lap, the upperclassman’s thick forearm a steel bar that pinned his chest.

Any protest Izuku might have formulated dissolved into gleeful cackles as Mirio’s free hand crawled under his tee and started scratching at his taut stomach.

“NEHEHEHahhahaahahahahahaha!! Stoohhohohohahahahaap PLEHEHEHEHEHAAASE!!”

“Here too? You are one ticklish guy,” chuckled Mirio without being bothered by Izuku’s attempts to grab his wrist or shield his tummy, being much stronger than the green bean who seemed hell bent on not using his Quirk to get away.

Mirio’s friendly claw was wreaking havoc on Izuku’s belly, inflating and depressing to the bright tune of his laughter. He roamed all across the abdominal expanse, dipped one finger in Izuku’s bellybutton to unleash a few adorable squeaks, spidered his fingers on his lower belly and waist, then let his hand tweak at every part of Izuku’s skin under the tee, revisiting his sides, his ribs, making brief attacks on his pits, before descending and squeezing  Izuku’s hip…

The greenette’s eyes bulged open as he screeched “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! NahahahahahHAHAAHAHAHHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHARRE!!!”

“I think you really mean it this time,” teased Mirio as he went on pinching and squeezing at the dreaded spot, switching sides so Izuku couldn’t keep up. When he saw there were only 20 seconds left, “You’re almost there!” he cheered as he latched onto Izuku’s hip and dug in repeatedly, fully unleashing his inner big brother to really give the younger student a laugh.

He kept his eye on the timer in case he couldn’t hear it over Izuku’s laughter, and when he saw it hit zero, he immediately let go of the green bean, only helping him steady himself so he wouldn’t fall again.

“There, there,” he said. “Take deep breaths.”

Izuku jumped off Mirio’s lap and landed on the chair in front of him, his perception of the hot seat completely altered after the last round of tickling.

“You good?”

“I’m… ok, just… uh…” stammered Izuku, and at first Mirio thought he was simply catching his breath, btu then he noticed how the green bean’s gaze was glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” said Mirio, causing Izuku to perk up. “Between my Quirk and working with Sir, sometimes I forget that some things come across as a bit weird outside of this office.”

“No, it’s… it’s ok, really,” assured Midoriya.

“I should have offered to let you tickle me first, because it’s really no big deal! Laughing is fun. Sometimes, if I’m having a hard day, I ask Sir to let me use the machine to feel better.”

That was some major Kirishima energy coming from the heroic goofball, and that familiar attitude relaxed the hold that embarrassment had on Izuku’s chest.

“But if it’s too weird for you, I can let you use the machine, or we can speak to Sir tomorrow and try something else!”

A wave of gratitude washed over Izuku. Still, “No, it’s… I want to do this,” he said. “Ihit’s not too… weird. In fact, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Mirio smiled. “I can believe that, your laughter really lights up the room! It’s so nice to listen to.”

That comment caused Izuku’s arm fortress to envelop his face again. Even so… “T-thanks,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that, and he’d started to accept it as a compliment. Since they’d moved into the dorms, pretty much every brush with tickling he’d had was not a way to demean him, but affectionate physical contact or a silly way to bond, and it had started to remove the sting of past memories with it.

And Mirio… Izuku was a bit intimidated by the upperclassman who should have received One for All in his place, he was just so amazing that despite his kind demeanor, or perhaps precisely because of it, Izuku felt some kind of resistance at the prospect of getting close to him. And still, over time, he’d started to want to be his friend. So the fact that he was acting the same way his friends did was… comforting.

“Ready for round 2?” asked Mirio.

“A-Already?”

“You have one more minute, don’t worry, but I have a proposal. Two, actually!”

“Ok,” replied Izuku nervously.

“First: we use the machine’s restraints so you don’t have to worry about punching me in the face or activating your Quirk. Sounds good?”

No, it didn’t, but it made sense, and he trusted Mirio. Even so, he gulped before saying, “Yes.”

“Proposal the second: if you want to get this over with quicker, we can turn on the machine while I tickle you. We’ll say that cuts the remaining time in half. What do you think?” 

If Izuku tried to hide the panic in his eyes, he certainly failed. That would allow them to go home sooner, especially Mirio, who was essentially working overtime due to Izuku’s own mistakes, but the green bean didn’t want to find out what being double-teamed felt like. “M-Maybe later.”

Mirio nodded, his smile unwavering, and walked over to the machine’s control panel. “Let’s see…”

As he pressed various buttons, the machine began to shift, changing its angle, adding and removing restraints, creating protrusions and depressions. That thing was a lot more customizable than Izuku had ever thought, and he couldn’t help wondering who had made it and how much money Sir must have spent on it.

“Hop on,” instructed Mirio. The machine was nearly unrecognizable. It was at around a 30° angle from the floor, with a large cubic protrusion emerging from the bottom that seemed to be intended as a seat. Two metal rings jut out from the front of the cube - ankle restraints, surmised Izuku. There was a second set of restraints at the top of the machine, two adjacent parallelepipeds with circular holes.

Izuku sheepishly made his way toward the machine, eyeing the four cavities from which the tickle-tools were supposed to come out. But he knew they wouldn’t unless he gave Mirio the go ahead.

Before hopping on the cubic seat, however, he paused to remove his top - his hair was already damp and he didn’t want to sweat through his change of clothes as well. Considering how many times he’d seen Mirio naked due to Quirk-related accidents, he didn’t feel too awkward.

Mirio flashed Izuku a thumbs-up as the latter climbed into the machine, the cold metal not entirely unpleasant against his bare back. He placed his ankles into the two rings, which snapped shut around the cuffs of his emerald trousers, then raised his arms over his head and fitted his wrists through the padded restraints above him.

Lying there was certainly more comfortable than standing or thrashing about in an office chair, but it also made Izuku feel that much more exposed and vulnerable, his entire upper body stretched out and on full display, his bare feet dangling out of reach.

His nervousness was partly allated when he saw Mirio step closer to him, having concocted a rather extravagant solution to allow Izuku to see the timer: he’d put his phone in his armband and donned it on his head, so the screen was smack dab in the middle of his forehead. It was exactly the kind of kind and silly thing Mirio would do to put someone at ease, and Izuku felt a wave of affection for the older student.

“Are you ready? I won’t be too mean, I promise.”

Izuku nodded, steeling himself.

“Ok. Boop the timer,” instructed Mirio as he leaned closer to Izuku’s face, allowing him to start the timer with his nose. It took a few tries, and Izuku chuckled in spite of himself. Mirio was trying so hard to put him at ease, he had to do his part too.

“Timer booped successfully,” he said as he tried to approximate the upperclassman’s speech.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Mirio an instant before he started squeezing Izuku’s knees.

The ticklish jolt caused the greenette to jump a little, and Mirio went on squeezing, looking for just the right spot as his fingers probed at the fabric and the muscle under it.

“Eep! Eek!” yelped Izuku repeatedly, before the string of squeaks melded into a steady stream of high-pitched giggles as Mirio’s thumbs found just the right spot above each kneecap and wouldn’t let go.

Izuku’s titters were just too precious, Mirio knew at that moment it wouldn’t be the last time he’d volunteer to punish the green bean if he kept running headlong into danger. There was something so innocent about the way he kept scrunching his fists and soles to cope with the sensation, about the way his toes pointed inward as he twisted his knees to escape the tickles.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that Mirio ended up spending way more time on that spot than he’d intended, so he tried to make up for it by goosing Izuku’s thighs. 

“Hehehehehehehehehehe!! Hehahahahahahahahahahaah!!!”

Thankfully, the thick fabric diffused some of the pressure, making it a lot more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Mirio.

“Ihihihit tihihihckleehehs buhuhut Ihihih cahahahn tahahahahke ihihihit!” admitted Izuku.

“Ok, good to know!” replied Mirio. “Time to get serious!”

And he started spidering his fingers up and down Izuku’s ribs and sides. momentarily avoiding the hot spot that were his hips, but not holding back at all otherwise, playing the green bean like a piano.

The reaction was immediate.

“OhnoohohohOHOHOHHOAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” 

Izuku burst into laughter, it was so much worse when he was shirtless and couldn’t squirm away!

And Mirio didn’t linger on a single spot for too long, letting his fingers travel up and down, up and down, delivering light and quick touches like kitten licks.

Next he tried slowly dragging his fingernails, caressing the skin, and while Izuku’s laughter seemed to decrease for a moment, the longer he kept it up, the higher in pitch it rose, and it quickly spilled forth again, bubbling like a cauldron.

“EhehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHSE STOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHPP!!!”

The contrast between Izuku’s frantic struggling and the slowness and delicateness of Mirio’s touches was just beautiful, enough that the older student wondered if he’d just found his new favorite antistress. Lighter touches seemed to work just as well, if not better. That would make the machine very effective.

But he wouldn’t rest on his laurels, because when the fingernails ended their umpteenth descent, skipping slightly as they hit the ridges of Izuku’s ribcage before curving down the soft slopes of his sides, he began his ascent by squeezing at the flanks, massaging the area with his thumbs as he did so.

Izuku’s laughter instantly became lower-pitched, but also louder, a new gale spilling forth as he was blindsided by Mirio’s new technique. 

When he reached the base of the greenette’s ribcage, he laid off on the squeezing and let his thumbs do most of the work, digging in and massaging, causing Izuku to snort. Mirio lingered briefly on that spot just to get him to let out that adorable sound again, before proceeding to count each of his ribs in a rather torturous manner, and then back down, and up again.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH!!! HAHAHHAAH HAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Satisfied with his initial exploration, Mirio then began mixing and matching methods and spots, digging his thumb in Izuku’s floating ribs while squeezing his side, scratching at his ribs while lightly dragging his fingernails down his flank, sometimes using both hands on the same side of his body, just to constantly keep him guessing.

The uncertainty and ever-changing pattern made it impossible for Izuku to get used to the sensation. Through half-lidded eyes, he managed to see there were about 4 minutes left. He could do it!

And then he felt Mirio’s fingers in his armpits.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!! NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!”

Mirio smiled at the mirthful outburst. If Izuku reacted like that when his underarms were under fire, how would he react when Mirio would get to his hips? For the time being, however, he was perfectly content with driving the greenette up the wall by wiggling his fingers in the damp hollows, his scribbling motions light and quick since that seemed to be particularly effective.

And Izuku could attest to it. “HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! PLEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSSEE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Three minutes.

Mirio kept it up for a few more moments before switching to massaging the hollows top to bottom with his thumbs, pressing gently but firmly, and though Izuku wasn’t as hysterical as before, there was no stopping the cyclical torrent of guffaws and spasms.

“It’s not as bad when I use my thumbs, right?” he asked.

Izuku would have preferred not to talk, but even if past experiences had taught him to answer his tickler, he still felt some kind of obligation toward the older student, so he forced himself to reply, “HIHIHIHIYEHEHEHEHEHEHESSS!!”

Mirio snickered at his own deviousness. Izuku would forgive him, he just had to do it. Time must have been almost up anyway.

“Good to know,” he responded before plunging his thumbs into Izuku’s hips, using the same massaging technique on the depression next to the bone and on his waist and V-line.

Izuku screeched. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHEHEHEHEEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAH!!”

He convulsed as if he’d been electrocuted, but the thumbs wouldn’t let go, so shrill, howling laughter exploded out of him. His shock of emerald hair flung droplets of sweat as he desperately shook his head in denial, a few landing on the display on Mirio’s forehead that kept ticking down. 1:43.

Even a few seconds in, Izuku’s laughter didn’t seem to subside at all. The poor guy was really ticklish. But Mirio wasn’t torturing him to have fun.

“Hey Midoriya, can you still hear me?”

“GHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“It tickles a lot, doesn’t it?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHHAAHAHKK!!! HAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH YEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHA!!!!”

“Good! So the next time you throw yourself into the fray without regard for your well-being, remember this, because I’m going to do it again. Got it?”

“EEEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA!!! PL-PLEEEHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I need to hear you say it!” demanded Mirio as he started squeezing his hips rapidly.

Izuku’s eyes flew open, dripping ticklish tears down his cheeks. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHSSSSS!!! YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Good.”

Mirio gave a few more squeezes before his fingers relented, slowing to a stop a few moments before the timer went off.

“You’ve made it through round 2! Very well done!” he cheered, but Izuku was too busy filling his lungs with hair to respond.

“It’s a great workout for your core, isn’t it?” asked Mirio as he patted Izuku’s stomach. 

The greenette winced, expecting Mirio’s fingers to curl and start tickling him again, but the upperclassman did no such thing.

“Whoa! Wat is that, some kind of manly endurance test?!”

Izuku felt a mixture of relief and horror when he noticed that two figures were standing on the threshold, and if the outline Izuku could make out through the mist of tears hadn’t been enough to identify one of them, his energetic, enthusiastic voice was unmistakable.

“I want to try it!!” beamed Kirishima, his whole face lighting up at the prospect of such a fun challenge.

“Hey, Tamaki! And you must be Kirishima, right?” asked Mirio, pausing the timer as he went to greet them. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but I can try asking Sir if you’d like.”

Izuku blinked the tears away and noticed Kirishima staring straight at him and the machine with awe, while Tamaki was doing his best to look at anything but Izuku, which made the supremely awkward meeting feel even more unbearable.

“I think y-you and t-this one have something in common,” stammered Tamaki in what may have been a tragic attempt at a quip.

“Hey Midoriya! How’re you holding up?”

Izuku nodded, muttering a feeble “F-fine.”

Mirio patted him on the head. “This champ has been going at it for twenty minutes. Only thirty to go!”

Kirishima’s eyes bulged as he did the math. “Fifty minutes?!”

He knew very well just how ticklish the greenette was, and the compassion and admiration he felt for him was bottomless.

“Think you could handle it?” asked Mirio.

Kirishima crossed his arms in front of his chest, instinctively protecting his sensitive upper body. “Good luck, Midoriya,” he wished somberly.

“Let’s leave him to rest, he’s earned it,” commented Mirio as he tried to move the conversation away from the disheveled greenette. “What brings you here?”

“Fatgum a-asked us to get case file TK-131. S-Sir Nighteye approved, he told us y-you’d be here.”

“That must be somewhere in the archive, I’ll help you find it! Have you been waiting long?”

This time it was Kirishima who replied. “Just a minute or two, we heard laughter inside and Suneater told me it was normal and to wait.”

Mirio smiled at his shy friend. “Good! The archive is downstairs, the door on the left, I’ll come help you out in a moment.”

Tamaki thanked him and led Kirishima away, but not before the redhead pumped his fist at Izuku to encourage him, while Mirio made his way back to Izuku.

“I have to help them for a little bit. Think you can handle the machine?”

At that stage, Izuku doubted that the machine’s fluffy appendages could be worse than Mirio’s strong and uncomfortably skilled fingers, so he was almost relieved to hear the offer.

“Great! I’ll just set it, give me a second… So, this would be the third round, so Level 3 it is… standard tools? Yes… 10 minutes… starting in 1 minute. Need a bathroom break?”

Izuku slowly worked his way through the words Mirio was saying to him, elaborating through a cloud of artificial giddiness. 

“S-Sorry you have to… do this on my… account,” he panted.

Mirio shook his head and retrieved Izuku’s bottle to let him drink. “You really have nothing to apologize for. But is it weird if I say I’m doing this because I agree with Sir?”

Izuku allowed himself to chuckle, his sore throat refreshed by the drink. 

“A little bit. But it’s not… so bad.”

Mirio smiled back, remembering only at that moment to remove the band from his forehead. “I’m going to go help them. And not like there’d be anything wrong with it, but we’re not going to hear you downstairs.” He winked and went after the Fatgum interns.

Izuku closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath and slow down his pulse. He could do it. It was just a workout. A very weird workout. And embarrassing, too. But Mirio’spersonality had the power to remove the sting of shame. For the most part. He could do it. He’d been through worse.

He took one last deep breath as the machine whirred to life. He eyed the lower set of openings, the ones of a height with his waist. It was just going to be a bit of fluff, he could take it. Fluff designed specifically to tickle him into submission. Even if that was true, it couldn’t be worse than a human with five fingers per hand!

But as the pink appendages emerged, looking like something in between foxtail spikes and miniature feather dusters, Izuku couldn’t help but notice that there were two per opening, and they immediately got to work, feathering his sides and his even more sensitive hips, from the bone to the waist of his trousers.

“Hehehehehahahahahahahahahaha!!! Hihihahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!!! N-Nohohohahahahaha!!”

Izuku, and way too many people around him, knew he was feather ticklish. In fact, he could feel every little barb of each of the four appendages, coming together for an effect greater than the sum of their parts. It felt different from rougher forms of tickling, like it was calling on his skin to come alive, a teasing sensation that was just as intense as form of stimulation with more pressure, but for which laughing did not feel like a suitable outlet, causing him to dissolve into breathy, hiccuping giggles punctuated by the occasional snort - less loud, just as tortured, and, possibly, even cuter.

And just as Izuku started questioning whether he’d underestimated certain things, the machine powered up again, extruding two more pairs of fuzzy appendages that began to oscillate up and down his ribs and in his underarms. What a terrible time to find out that his armpits were just as receptive to soft tickles as his hips.

“Wahahahaahahahahahaihihihit!!!! F-Fohohohohouhuhur wehehehehehehre ehehehnOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHahahaahahahahahahahAHAHhHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!”

But Izuku was in for another disappointment, because amidst his thrashing and laughing, he didn’t notice a panel slide forward under his feet, and an additional four fuzzy appendages got to work on thoroughly tickling his soles from heel to toe, one pair largely focusing on his arch and instep, the other on the ball and the base of his toes.

No new ground was broken this time - Izuku already knew that his feet were also extremely feather sensitive.

“NEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!! IHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHO MUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHHCCCHHH!!!”

And that was when he realized that no matter how much he begged, the machine wouldn’t relent, the machine wouldn’t stop. He was on the hook for the entire ten minutes. 10 minutes during which the fuzzy appendages would keep caressing his sides and ribcage, dancing in his underarms, following the defined line of his pecs and back into the sensitive hollows, slithering up and down and across his soles so no matter how much he scrunched or waved them, they’d never escape the tickles, torturously teasing his waist and hips, inevitable.

The specially designed fuzz wouldn’t warp from continuous contact with ticklish skin or by absorbing the moisture of the layer of perspiration it erected as a last defense, no, it would keep delivering surgically precise tickles for the entire time it had been programmed to, without mercy or emotion, the twelve swaying appendages like hands counting down the seconds, and Izuku the hysterical, overstimulated clock face.

It tickled so much and in such a teasing, penetrating way that Izuku couldn’t help fighting against the sensation, trying to distract himself by counting, telling himself it couldn’t be much longer, but the seconds stretched into minutes and the stimulation was overwhelming.

First he stopped thrashing, not because he’d run out of energy or wanted to save it, but because he’d accepted defeat. He wasn’t going anywhere. Once again, he could only embrace what was happening to him, trying to focus on the smaller part that felt pleasant rather than torturous.

Then he stopped begging, which he’d kept up not to convince anyone except himself, that there was something he could do to put an end to it, at least at first, then the pleas melded into a mantra, which was finally broken by the hiccups and snorts.

Finally, he let the tears roll down his cheeks freely, unencumbered by shame or delusions of control, cutting through the freckles and dripping down his neck, allowing the giddiness to consume him.

That was the state Mirio found him in, plus a multitude of hiccups, a minute or so after the machine stopped, having already sent Tamaki and Kirishima on their way.

“Well done! you’ve made it past the halfway point!”

Izuku was too busy huffing and puffing to reply, but accepted Mirio’s offer of another sip of water and declined a toilet break. 

“You know, I was a bit like you a few years back,” said Mirio, filling the silence while he allowed Izuku to recuperate. “I wanted to keep everyone safe. Except for myself, I guess.”

The greenette forced himself to look at Mirio.

“It’s like Sir said. If you die, you can’t save anyone else. Think of all the good you could do in the future.”

Izuku sighed. If only it were so easy. The Quirk he’d been given, All Might’s torch…

“But it’s not just that. I understand you want to prove your worth, but you aren’t just a hero. You’re a person. You have people who love you and a life to live to the fullest.”

That struck a chord within Izuku. How often had he worried that his classmates were putting too much pressure on themselves? That they - no, not even him - weren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet?

“And if you want to be a hero, be a hero for as long as you can. You have to value your life and respect your body. Got it?”

Izuku thought he could hear echoes of All Might in the upperclassman’s words, and wondered if he’d ever given Mirio a similar speech. Maybe he wasn’t changing his priorities yet, but there was something to that opposing viewpoint, something he’d have to confront, because it came from someone who seemed to understand him.

The green bean swallowed the last of his hiccups to simply say, “T-Thanks.”

“Mull it over, ok? Now we just have to make sure it sinks in. Only two rounds left!”

Twenty minutes. The thought horrified Izuku. No. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

“Can… you do it… too?” he asked, pushing down his nervousness. “To… halve the… time.”

The only way out was through.

Mirio would have patted Izuku on the shoulder if the way he was restrained didn’t make it impossible. “A fine choice, Midoriya! No need to turn up the intensity either,” he replied as he programmed the machine.

“You ready?”

Izuku steeled himself, then nodded.

The machine started up again, the appendages instantly sending Izuku into a new fit of hysterics. 

“Hahahahahahahahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“You’re a brave one,” said Mirio as he walked toward the guffawing greenette. “Now, repeat after me. My life is important,” he instructed as he started squeezing his knees again.

“HEhehehehhahahahahaahahahahaha!!! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHNNT!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!”

“Sure you can!” urged Mirio while moving up to Izuku’s thighs, to give him an extra incentive. “My life is important!”

Izuku had convinced himself that with the machine already overwhelming his senses, Mirio’s touches would have lost some of their power. He was wrong.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! M-MYHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAA LIHIHIHHIFE IHIHIHHIS!!! IHIHIHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“You can do it!” said Mirio while kneading his thumbs into the muscle of Izuku’s thighs.

“IHIHIHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! IHIHIMPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! IMPOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHARTHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNTT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

What Mirio was doing, reaching deep under the skin, tickled in a completely different way from the twelve - twelve! - mechanical foxtails writhing in all his most ticklish spots, so instead of diffusing each other, the sensations compounded to instantly make Izuku regret his decision.

“You’re doing great! ‘My health is important!’”

Mirio’s requests prevented him from sinking into the sensation, forcing him to remain present at all times.

It also didn’t help that Mirio had moved his right hand away from Izuku’s thigh and had started scribbling his fingers on Izuku’s lower stomach, causing Izuku to spasm and to let out a loud squeak.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

“My health is important!” repeated Mirio without letting up in the slightest.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAPPP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MYHIHIHHI HEHEHEHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHIHIS IHIHIHIMPOOOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHRT-TAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I’ll take it. Now for the last one!” promised Mirio while his second hand joined the first in scratching and poking all over Izuku’s abs, more prominent than ever due to the intense workout they were receiving.

“EEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! EHEHEHEHEHHENAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAUUHGHGHGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!”

“You’re almost there! ‘I am important.’”

“HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! IHIHHIAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHMMM!!! IMP-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“Again!”

“IHIHIHIMPAPPAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHAHAHAHAM IIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAH!!! IAMIMPORHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!”

“Uh, your belly looks like a pretty ticklish spot too, uh?” observed Mirio while his ten fingers continued to wreak havoc on said ticklish tummy. “Fear no, I came prepared!” he assured, seemingly without considering that he could just stop tickling Izuku to let him speak.

Instead, he pulled a green marker out of his pocket, removed the cap, and started writing something across Izuku’s glistening chest. “I… aaaaaaammmm…. immmmpooorrrrtaaaaannnnnt!”

Unfortunately, the tip also happened to tickle Izuku terribly, and Mirio was dexterous enough that his left hand didn’t have to stop scratching at his belly while he went on writing, tracing over the most ticklish letters smudged by Izuku’s perspiration or that were rendered unreadable by his useless squirming, renewed by the sheer intensity of the double attack.

“What was the second one? Mmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy… heeeeaaaaallllth… iiiiisssss… iiiiimmmmpoooooo-impooooooortaaaannnnt!” he spelled out as he wrote the letters right under Izuku’s pecs, uncovering a new ticklish spot for the greenette.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! MMMMIHIHIHHIRIOOOOOHOHOH!!! STAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHPPP!!” begged Izuku, throwing all formality out of the window.

“No can do, Midoriya! Myyyyyyyyyyy… llllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffeeeeee… iiiiiiisssss…”

He’d started writing across Izuku’s belly, dodging the rivulets that glistened in the abdominal creases, and if the green bean had hoped that would mean Mirio’s left hand would remain idle or return to a spot protected by his trousers, he was sorely disappointed as the ticklign fingers attacked the underside of his pecs.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmpoooooooooooooooorrrrtaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnt!” concluded Mirio, writing the “o” around Izuku’s bellybutton and circling it repeatedly before dipping the marker into the navel to color all around and inside it.

Mirio uncapped the marker, which gave Izuku enough bandwidth to remember just how awful the fuzz on his hips, soles, and in his underarms tickled, aided and abetted by the appendages still working over his ribs and sides.

“Good job, Midoriya! You’re almost done!” cheered Mirio as all ten of his fingers descended on Izuku’s defenseless tummy again.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHAHHAHAHA!!! CAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHANNNTTT!!!”

“You can, I believe in you!” claimed Mirio while his fingers crawled up Izuku’s abs all the way under his chest, and then back down. 

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA!!! IHIHIHIT’S SOOOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIIIIHIHIHISH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHIH CAHAHAHAH!!! IIIII CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHHAAA!!!”

Total meltdown. Izuku gave up, he had no choice but to, his mind melting into ticklish insanity as the machine lightly tickled his pits, ribs, sides, hips, and feet, seeming to make him even more sensitive to Mirio’s compassionate yet ruthless touches. 

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, unsure whether Mirio was still talking to him or if his mind was clinging to anything to preserve its integrity, his lungs on fire, his senses overrun by the tickles, unable to see under his own damp curls and tears…

He felt his arms go limp, seemingly having slipped through the restraints. No. The machine had let him go. Neither it nor Mirio were tickling him anymore, even as he still felt the horrid fuzz demanding his ticklish atonement all over his body.

This time, Mirio was really talking to him. “...done for real. Congratulations!”

izuku gave a sheepish nod. Was it over? Was it really over?

“Shall I pick you up?” offered Mirio, and Izuku, tickled into accepting anything, nodded again without thinking.

He felt Mirio’s wiry arms lift him up without effort, and though he maybe should have felt embarrassed - not like his classmates wouldn’t pick him up just because they could - all he felt was safe and relieved.

Mirio gently deposited him on the office chair. “You might want to shower again,” he recommended as he pointed to the sentences written in green on Izuku’s upperbody. But the green bean primarily wanted his ticklish spots out of sight, so he put on his t-shirt anyway.

Mirio retrieved his shoes for him and helped him out, sneaking a few tickles to his sole. Izuku collapsed back into the chair in a fit of happy giggles, but he didn’t pull his foot away, because he could tell the upperclassman would stop immediately, and he did.

“Sorry we had to put you through all that,” said Mirio as he clasped the greenette’s hand to help him stand up.

“I… deserved it,” conceded Izuku, exhausted but also kind of happy. As far as punishments went, intense though it was, it seemed to create no hard feelings.

Mirio retrieved his own duffel bag and walked to the exit with him. “You know, if Sir punishes me tomorrow for lying, you might be able to get your revenge,” he said with a conciliatory chuckle.

Izuku giggled. No, it was ok… “I just… might take you up… on that,” he surprised himself saying.

[haikyu-mp4]

Plant lover

word count; 1369 – f!reader, for my idea exchange with @dira333 <3

In some way, you knew what to expect when you joined a male-dominated profession. Naturally, part of you wanted to expect the worst, but you couldn’t give up before even starting! You went into it with high spirits.

During your first week, there were a few incidents of men making rude comments. Whether it was asking if you needed a makeup break or telling you that you should leave certain tasks for the men, you would smile back and leave them be. That’s why you were so surprised when Futakuchi, one of your coworkers, shut them up by snapping back on your behalf.

Futakuchi was sick of it. He didn’t usually get involved in anything that didn’t affect him at the workplace, but he was sick of hearing every single guy bother you for no reason at all. You were more than capable and way more reliable than many of them ever were. So he snapped back, making sure they all reconsidered any other comments they might have made up in their minds.

Before the weekend, Aone sent out a reminder for their ex-Dateko monthly game night. Aone might not be the biggest talker or texter, but he hosted these get-togethers to keep the squad together.

Futakuchi had an idea, and it wasn’t such a bad one this time. Many of the others had brought partners or other friends to some game nights before, so it wouldn’t be a problem, asking you to join. He walked over to you at lunch, tapping the table beside you to get your attention.

“Hey, newbie. Wanna come to game night with some of my friends? You can practice talking back to these guys,” he said, hiding his kind intentions behind that fake motive. You could only nod in agreement.

On Saturday, Futakuchi shook his head as he saw what you carried when meeting him by the entrance to Aone’s apartment building. It was a healthy snake plant, classically known as a plant you don’t need to care much for since you weren’t sure what kind of guys you were meeting.

“That’s just perfect,” he chuckled, and you soon found out why. As the door was opened, you were introduced to the jungle-like apartment and its owner.

“Welcome,” Aone said with the tiniest smile, and your starry eyes moved from the plants in his hallway to him.

“Thank you so much for having me,” you greeted him, smiling at him with wonder.

You even forgot about Futakuchi until he cleared his throat and pointed at the plant you carried. “Where will this fit in?” he asked, somehow managing to tease both you and Aone simultaneously.

“I brought this for you, but it seems I could have chosen something more challenging.” You held out the plant with a soft laugh, and after he took it, you finally shrugged off your jacket to hang it up. “It’s a jungle in here!” you commented as you followed him further into the apartment, and Futakuchi introduced you to the rest in one fell swoop before sitting down haphazardly on the couch.

“Thank you,” Aone said, looking around for a place to put the new plant. “I think I’m out of pots.”

As the evening went on, all the other guys would glance over at the two of you, where you would be talking animatedly about something or the other, like an anecdote related to some plant or something else you happened to remember, and he would nod along patiently.

Now and then, you would move so he could show you some plants in another room, so the squad had no idea when exactly you managed to plan a thrift shop date, but Aone revealed in their group chat on Monday that he would be looking for new plant pots with you.

“Did you always like greenery?” you asked Aone as you navigated through your third thrift shop. He had a tote bag on one shoulder that was awkwardly bumpy with the other pots you had chosen from the previous stops.

“I liked a girl once, and I wanted to impress her,” he told you, and you pretended to look at the opposite shelf, nodding in understanding. “I don’t talk to her anymore, I just started loving the plants.”

You giggled at the picture in your head of Aone slowly giving more attention to his collection rather than that girl. “Evidently, it must be love. Between you and the plants I mean,” you joked, making him smile a bit.

Suddenly, your eyes set on a gorgeous blue pot with intricate flower details on it, and just as you were about to point it out, Aone’s arm shot out to point at the same one.

In your excitement, you rested your hand on his lower arm. “I was looking at that one too! We have to get it.”

And in the implications of how nice it sounded when you said ‘we’, Aone lowered his arm and let your hand slide down into his. Then he used his free hand to pick the pot up and put it in the basket you were carrying before taking the whole basket from you.

You stared at him for a moment, cheeks flushing red in the innocence of his affection before you finally put some energy into your feet and kept going, pointing out more pretty options and blushing every time you had to step closer to him to put them in the basket.

Because you found so many pretty pots, you arranged to meet up at your place another time, and Aone had brought some cuttings and other plant babies that might grow nicely at your place.

The two of you worked on filling your apartment with plants in mostly comfortable silence. He would tell you little facts he knew and you would listen intently.

After washing off your hands and cleaning up the table you had used, you made dinner, and the two of you settled into your sofa to watch reruns of sit-coms all evening.

It was no wonder the two of you were falling, fast.

After you had gone on a couple of more-than-friendly dates, Futakuchi told Aone that you still get comments from your coworkers when he wasn’t around. Aone didn’t even hesitate to utilise some overtime and extend his lunch hour to visit you.

When he stepped inside, his presence spoke for itself as your coworkers’ eyes went to him. He was holding two bentos, one covered in a cute green cover and tied into a knot at the top.

You were kind and soft and Aone loved that about you, so unlike Futakuchi, he didn’t want to encourage you to fight back. He didn’t want you to get in trouble when you were already at a disadvantage.

So he let his eyes fall into a determined glare, making sure most of them noticed him as he finally found you, covered in dirt but with a bright smile as you spotted him. “Takanobu!” you yelled, and that alone made him soften up.

“Hello, I brought you lunch,” he said, handing the bento over.

With hearts in your eyes, you dusted your hands off on the equally dirty pantsuit before taking the bento, eyes tearing up as you looked up at him. “Thank you! I can’t believe you did that, I even forgot my lunch at home.”

Aone bowed, giving you that small smile. “I have a long lunch, we can eat together.”

So you did, and Futakuchi was happy to report that you had been receiving less degrading comments and found the time to bond with some of the few other women in other departments.

Times were looking good, and you had Futakuchi to thank for it. He watched you with a raised eyebrow as you came over one day at work with a cheeky smile. “Congratulations on your new boyfriend,” he cooed.

“Thank you! I was thinking that when we get married…” Futakuchi’s eyes almost bulged out of his eyes at the statement, and you rested a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to be the flower girl.”

At least he knew you were serious about this relationship. His best friend was in safe hands.

masterlist

[sansaorgana]

Hello love! I simply adore your writing and I was wondering if I could get a Gale Cleven x reader who's dealing with infertility? Probably something angsty? If not, that's totally fine. I'm just having a bit of a rough day :/

hi, sweetheart! 🥺 I'm sorry that you're having a rough day... I am trying to write these stories chronologically but I decided to write this one today so you don't have to wait too long 😊 btw I know that we treat Buck as a fictional character here but as far as I am concerned, real Buck Cleven never had children – at least I've never seen them mentioned anywhere like Bucky's daughters or Crosby's kids 🤔

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

You didn’t want to go there at all but you knew that you should leave the house finally for your own mental health. Buck was looking worried about you, too, and you wanted to show him that you were slowly getting better after your last miscarriage. But the truth was that some part of you was dying with each one of them.

For the first time it had been sad but not devastating yet – it was common to happen after all. Second time had started to make you worry. Third and fourth had only been a confirmation of your fear – you wouldn’t give your husband a child and you wouldn’t become a mother unless someone comes up with a magical cure.

Your best friend Eva was the only person who had known about it and she was as worried as Buck was. When one of your and Eva’s friends, Nancy, had decided to throw a tea party, Eva insisted on taking you there. So you dressed up and let her take you in her car as Buck watched from the window with a faint smile.

Eva was an independent woman. After her husband’s death in the war she decided not to marry again. She got her own car and managed most things on her own. She was a wild and free spirit and she never wanted to have children so as much as you appreciated her effort to help you – you knew that she would never fully understand your struggle.

The tea party took place at Nancy’s house. There were a few other women and you all sat by the table and sipped on the warm beverage from the china set Nancy had gotten for her wedding. She looked excited and her eyes were sparkling all the time as she was smiling widely. Eventually, you found out the reason behind that.

“So, I wanted you all to come here because… Because I have something to tell you, girls,” she giggled and all the women looked at her, curiously.

You felt a knot forming in your stomach. You already felt what it was.

“I’m pregnant!” She announced and everyone cheered. You did too, forcing a smile. Eva’s hand found yours under the table and squeezed yours to show you a silent support.

You felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You got angry at Eva for convincing you to come here but it wasn’t her fault after all, she couldn’t know… You looked around and realised that all other women in the room had children already or were pregnant. Except for you and Eva but she didn’t count since she didn’t want to become a mother anyway.

But the worst hadn’t happened yet.

“Now it’s (Y/N)’s turn,” Nancy smiled at you and you put the cup down with a shaky hand.

“Stop pushing her,” Eva reacted immediately.

“Don’t be like this, Eva. You hope she will never be a mother so you won’t be alone in this,” Nancy’s sister, Hannah, snapped at her.

“We don’t really think about having children, Buck and I,” you smiled nervously and the women looked at each other.

“My husband didn’t want them either but I convinced him,” Janis grinned at you, thinking that her words were in any way helpful.

“We just don’t…” you started and your voice broke. Eva jumped in the conversation quickly.

“Stop pushing her!” She insisted angrily.

“I’m only saying, he can wait but she cannot,” Nancy shrugged her arms.

You didn’t want to make a scene and leave after that so you only pretended to be more interested with the piece of cake on your plate although swallowing it was extremely difficult with a gulp in your throat. You waited about half an hour before nodding at Eva discreetly.

“It’s time for us,” she stood up and grabbed her purse. “I promised Buck to take her back home by eight.”

“These officers, they are all about discipline,” you chuckled while excusing yourself and picked your purse up as well. “Can’t have my Major waiting too long.”

You left the house as fast as possible and waited for Eva by her car.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she told you when she finally joined you. “I had no idea.”

“Let’s not… Let’s not talk about it, alright?” You sniffed back the tears and she nodded, furrowing her eyebrows at you but respecting your wish to stay silent.

In fact, you both remained silent for the whole ride home and she only kissed your cheek when she parked by your lawn and you jumped out of the car to go back inside and hide from the world.

Buck was in the living room, crouching down next to the TV set with a screwdriver in his hand as he worked on some adjustments. You smiled through the tears and leaned on the wall, shyly.

“You’re back already?” He mumbled without looking up.

“Yeah, it was no fun,” you answered. “What are you on about again, Buck?”

“The signal keeps being bad, I can fix that, I think,” he explained.

“Just don’t hurt yourself and, most importantly, don’t break the TV,” you sighed, trying to be in a playful and teasing mood but it was difficult, especially while seeing him – the man you loved… whom you couldn’t give a child.

You burst into tears all of sudden and Buck looked up, worryingly.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” He put the screwdriver down and approached you as quickly as possible to put his hands on your shoulders.

“Nancy… She… She’s pregnant,” you told him and he sighed before pulling you closer and pressing your face to his chest.

“I’m sorry, darling…” He rubbed your back, not knowing what to say.

“And she asked about us not having a baby of our own…” You tugged on his shirt.

“That is none of that woman’s business why we don’t have a baby of our own,” you heard Buck’s voice getting more stern and angry.

“I know… I told her we don’t want babies… I didn’t know what else to say…” You explained.

“It’s alright,” he shushed you and kissed the top of your head.

“No, it’s not…” You looked up with your wet eyes and makeup running down your face. You could see the pain on his face from witnessing you this way and you hated to bring him sadness, too, but you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “She said you have time but I am running out of it.”

Buck’s jaw clenched at the words. He hated when anyone was hurting you either with words or actions – no matter if it was a man or woman.

“Nancy’s never been a bright girl, you know that, baby?” He cupped your wet cheeks and leaned in closer to your face. You nodded, unsurely. “Girls like her only care about keeping a husband at home and showing off in town.”

“But I care about keeping a husband, too,” you gasped.

Buck sighed and shook his head, looking for the right words.

“Come here, baby,” he lowered his hands to hold yours as he led you on the sofa and sat you on his lap. You threw your arms around his neck and he pulled you closer by your hip and thigh. “How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart, that you’re all I want? Only you,” he pecked your lips softly. “You make me the happiest already. Having a baby with you would be only an addition, it’s already perfect the way it is. If we have a baby, I’ll be happy. But if we don’t, I’ll be just as much satisfied,” he explained to you. “And I won’t let anyone say bad things about my beautiful and wonderful wife.”

“Buck…” Your lower lips trembled. “It brings me comfort to know you don’t really care about it but…”

“It’s not that I don’t care. Don’t say that,” he interrupted you. “I care.”

“I know, I’m sorry… But I want this baby. I want to have a baby with you more than anything in the world. I am glad you’ll be as happy without it but I don’t think I will be…” You looked down, ashamed of your confession.

Buck stayed silent for a while, caressing you and keeping you close as he rested his chin on your head and sighed.

“I know, my sweet girl, you just want a baby to love and take care of, right?”

“Yes…” You nodded. “And… And I hate how jealous I get when I see other women with babies or being pregnant. It brings the worst out of me and I don’t like this version of me.”

“Shh, hey, love, there are lots of babies out there who want a mummy to love them and take care of them just as much, you know?” He asked in a soft whisper and you looked up at him.

“What are you suggesting? That we should adopt?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Only if you want to,” he nodded and raised his hand to caress your head gently. “I want you to be happy, darling. That’s all I want, nothing else. I hate to see you so sad all the time,” he confessed and smiled sadly.

“It would be lovely to adopt a baby but I’m scared it won’t be the same… Because I want to have your baby, Gale… Ours,” you fixed yourself.

“You know that I’d do everything to make your dream come true, I really would. But some things… They’re just impossible to happen sometimes, you know that, baby?” Buck kissed your forehead. “We can keep trying and trying but it kills me to see you getting even sadder each time it happens.”

You only hummed to yourself and squeezed him tighter. A decision to adopt a baby couldn’t be made in the heat of the moment, you had to think about it more thoroughly. But your husband had a point. You also hated to make him worried so much about you and the fact that he himself would be as happy without having a child with you was bringing you lots of comfort. It would be way worse if he wanted this baby more than anything else.

“I have to heal after the recent loss first,” you whispered to him after a while, “and then we’ll talk about it again, how about that?”

“Sounds about right,” Buck caressed your cheeks with his thumbs and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader | This is a very long chapter!!! | I don’t even know the word count, but it’s a LOT…

PART ONE | PART TWO

The previous night had been one of the worst in Jim Hopper’s life. He’d endured the long hours till morning with the company of cigarettes and alcohol, ruminating on the way he’d potentially ruined his life the night before. How could he have allowed his obsession with you to sink this low? To the point of revealing his secret in the most damning way possible, literally caught with his pants down (or at least, undone). Hopper had gone to your home last night with the plan of seeing you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. To satisfy his curiosity about the relationship the two of you had together. Was Steve really as perfect as he seemed? Were you genuinely happy with him? Or, more pressing on Hopper’s mind, was Steve Harrington able to satisfy you?

Hopper had gotten more answers than he’d expected however, when he’d accidentally stumbled upon you and Steve sharing an intimate moment together. Nothing, especially Hopper’s barely existent sense of shame, could have stopped him from watching. He’d certainly felt shame after being caught, however. The expression in your eyes when you’d spotted him was…impossible for Hopper to read. You hadn’t looked embarrassed, or horrified, or even surprised, at least as Hopper had perceived. It’s possible, he told himself, that you were exceptionally good at hiding your emotions. Or maybe…maybe you’d known that Hopper was watching all along…?

The thought had occurred to him at some point during the night, after yet another failed attempt at sleep. Hopper stared up at the ceiling of his trailer, naked and drunkenly sprawled on his couch. He was surrounded by empty beer cans, a cigarette burning down between his lips. He watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, coiling above him in an almost hypnotic spiral, at least to his alcohol-soaked perception. The image above Hopper perfectly mirrored his life spiraling-out-of-control, and he chuckled darkly at the irony of it. Hopper thought again of your eyes, their expression which completely eluded him. And then…a new possibility occurred to him. What if you hadn’t been shocked at all by his behavior, Hopper wondered? What if the secret of his obsession was something you already knew about? Had you realized Hopper wasn’t what he seemed, that Hawkins’ Chief of Police was actually less a servant of the community, and more a slave to his own perverted impulses?

Hopper found a sick sort of comfort in this new theory, in the idea that you might have already known his secret. If you’d known he was watching you last night, along with the reason why, perhaps you’d have less reason to be shocked at his indecent behavior? Your expression had appeared so vague to Hopper, maybe because you’d known he was there watching all along? Hopper lay on his couch, wondering…if maybe you’d left your curtains pulled on purpose? Had you wanted Hopper to see your boyfriend fuck you?

The character profile Hopper had constructed of you was of an innocent girl yet to be corrupted. If he’d been wrong all this time, and you were actually as deviant as he was, then the possibility of Hopper having you became more real to him. Maybe you liked the idea of being watched, of being obsessed over? Had your innocent behavior around Hopper been an act this whole time, a game you were playing at his expense? Did you get off on knowing he wanted you, but couldn’t have you?

The sun was rising, reminding Hopper of the time. He checked his watch, realizing he’d have to leave for the station soon. Facing you would be much easier if his theory about you was right. Part of him knew it was a long shot, but fuck, Hopper needed this fantasy, the hope that you secretly liked his lusting after you, that you wanted to be wanted by him…?

────────────────

The drive to the station was relatively easy for Hopper, considering the fact that he’d had zero sleep the night before and his hangover was getting progressively worse. Regardless of how awful he felt, Hopper was impatient to receive some kind of feedback from you, whether negative or positive. Not knowing how you were feeling about last night was tying a knot in Hopper’s stomach. And as soon as he entered the station, that knot in his stomach tightened.

A young woman Hopper didn’t recognize was seated at your desk. He stopped in his tracks, surprised and growing increasingly worried. Where the hell were you?

Hopper approached the secretarial desk. “Uh, hey,” he began tentatively. “Where’s (y/n)?”

The young woman smiled back at Hopper, and in spite of his anxiety, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was.

“(y/n) called in sick this morning,” the young woman replied. Hopper took a deep breath; his fantasy that you’d be alright with his deviant behavior was more than likely only that: a fantasy. You probably thought Hopper was the lowest scum on Earth, and couldn’t bear the thought of coming into work today and having to interact with him.

“Did she-uh-.” Hopper paused, clearing his throat. “Did she say what’s wrong, exactly? Anything specific?”

“No, but maybe she caught the flu?” the young woman replied. “I mean, her voice sounded okay over the phone. But you never know with the flu; it could be affecting her stomach-.” She looked away awkwardly, flustered and embarrassed for rambling.

Hopper took a few seconds to consider the new layer of shit he found himself in. At this point, he was sure you’d told Steve what had happened. Because, after all, Steve was your boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you tell him?

Then again, if you had told Steve, why wasn’t he at the station right now kicking Hopper’s ass? Maybe you’d begged Steve not to tell anyone, afraid you’d put your job in jeopardy?

The temporary secretary cleared her throat to get Hopper’s attention. Her big, expressive eyes drifted up and down his body, a curious smile on her face. Hopper tried to focus on her smile and not his anxiety, grateful for the distraction when she extended a pretty hand to him. “We haven’t met before,” the young woman said. “I’m Mary.”

Hopper took her hand, which disappeared in his. “Jim,” he said, adding, “Mary. That’s a beautiful name, Mary.”

She dropped her eyes bashfully, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks. Hopper already knew Mary wanted him to fuck her; it was more than obvious. Having her would be easy for several reasons. Mary was obviously young, likely nineteen or twenty, Hopper guessed. And from experience, he knew that younger women were easier conquests, because they tended to be inexperienced and therefore, attracted to someone mature and in a position of authority like Hopper.

One of the reasons Hopper was so enchanted by you was the fact that you were the exact opposite of a girl like Mary. You were young, but not so young that you automatically came with the prepackaged naïveté Hopper had grown so bored with after years of fucking women barely old enough to drink. Women who’d maybe had one or two partners, if any. Virgins were easy for Hopper to fuck, but they bored him. He needed a woman who would let him do unspeakable things to her body, not teach her how to fuck in the first place. He was too lazy for that, too selfish. Hopper wanted you, a woman who looked sweet and innocent in public, but could handle the dicking-down he intended to give you in private…

Hopper realized his thoughts were drifting again, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction in front of him: Mary. Secretary Mary. The fact that her name rhymed with her job might help him remember it for a change, Hopper realized. Usually, he didn’t waste time cataloging information about the women he fucked; it was too much of an effort for Hopper to keep track of them all.

He’d likely never see Mary again, after today. You’d be back at the station tomorrow, and Hopper could make things right with you…at least, he hoped you’d come back. The possibility of never seeing you again was something Hopper couldn’t handle right now. He needed to see you, to talk about what happened.

Mary’s pleasant voice pulled Hopper from his thoughts. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “If you need anything…” Mary held the pause in her statement long enough to make sure Hopper understood the full extent of her meaning. “…You know where to find me.”

Hopper nodded politely. He knew he’d have her in the backseat of his Blazer by lunch.

“Likewise, Mary,” Hopper smiled, his voice soft and authoritative, laying the charm on thick. Mary’s subtle change in posture, the way her shoulders went back slightly, accentuating her breasts in the most innocent way possible, confirmed Hopper’s suspicions. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them. Mary’s breathing changed instantly; Hopper could practically hear her pulse quicken. “Hey,” he whispered, a friendly grin on his lips. “I take my lunch at eleven; you wanna get out of here for awhile?”

Mary’s answer, predictably, was yes.

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Hopper had assumed correctly that Mary-the-Secretary was a virgin. She’d blurted it out as soon as he touched her, as if confessing something. Hopper didn’t react, because of course he’d already known. And he may have been compulsive when it came to sex, but he wasn’t a monster; Hopper never planned on putting his dick inside Mary. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to make her first time a painful one. His only purpose in doing anything with Mary, or any woman at this point, was to use her body as a substitute for yours…

Mary had a pretty pussy and tasted sweet, so it was easy for Hopper to pretend she was you. He ate her for twenty minutes or so, and didn’t pull her panties back up for her till she’d come twice. He looked at his watch, noting that his lunch break was nearly over. Hopper gave Mary’s thigh a hearty pat and informed her it was “time to head back,” walking around to the front of the car and waiting for Mary to do the same. She of course took a bit longer than Hopper, being unsteady on her feet. Climbing into the passenger side, she closed her eyes and leaned to rest her head against Hopper’s shoulder. He grimaced, frowning at the road ahead, but Mary didn’t see his expression.

Another problem with virgins, Hopper was reminded: They get too attached and usually, right away. Especially the younger ones, who seemed to demand a dual role of Hopper that he wasn’t willing to waste time or effort to play: the role of a father figure as well as a lover. There was nothing about any of these girls that Hopper wanted to nurture, and he tried to convey that message early on with his behavior. But sometimes, the message wasn’t received, and Hopper had a broken heart on his hands that he’d never meant to break. He didn’t mind the slight guilt it caused his conscience this time, because Hopper knew he’d probably never see Mary again. Broken-hearted girls were easy to ignore when Hopper could avoid interacting with them.

He caught a glimpse of Mary’s face in the passenger side mirror. She was positively beaming, glowing… Hopper realized she’d probably never had an orgasm before today. He sighed to himself; she was definitely attached. Hopper didn’t want a puppy, but he seemed to now have one on his heels. Mary tried to get Hopper’s attention all day after lunch, making frequent trips into his office with one excuse or another, cheeks flushed rosy, giddy with excitement at just being near him. By the time Hopper got off duty, he was more than happy to be parting ways with Mary. She saw him leaving and trotted after Hopper to his car, asking if she could see him later tonight.

Rather than give her illusions of anything further happening between them, Hopper decided to rip the emotional bandage off quickly, and be done with it. “No, Mary,” he said over a cigarette. She watched him turn his key in the ignition, her smile softly fading. “I can’t see you tonight,” Hopper continued flatly. “I have a date.”

Mary’s sweet features melted into a look of sorrow that Hopper was familiar with. He didn’t enjoy hurting young women, but delivering a well-intentioned lie was better than handing out false hope. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road that ran through downtown Hawkins. It would take less than three minutes for Hopper to get to your house. He was tempted. The urge to know what was going through your head right now was eating him up inside.

As usual when it came to Hopper, temptation did get the better of him. He began to feel angry at you for denying him a response. How could you not let him know where your mind was at, after what happened last night? The anxiety of not knowing was making Hopper miserable, emotionally sick. His dick had barely gotten hard when he was eating out the temporary secretary, even though he’d mentally replaced her with you.

An ugly sense of rage began to boil in Hopper’s gut. How dare you avoid him…how dare you pretend that everything was okay, that the world wasn’t caving in, making up some absurd excuse about being sick to avoid Hopper? His grip on the steering wheel had tightened to the point of discomfort, but as with his obsession, Hopper couldn’t. let. go.

The sun was setting as Hopper pulled down your street. It reminded him of where he’d been exactly twenty-four hours ago, driving from Steve’s house to yours, and how everything about his life had changed in the hour following. Hopper saw Steve’s car in your driveway, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to get an answer, to get some kind of reassurance from you that everything last night was real, and not the result of a drug-induced dream his subconscious had conjured up. Hopper knew he had to control himself, to stuff his rage deeper lest it take hold of him and guide his mind in a direction that would cause even more harm than he already had.

Hopper pulled to a stop in your driveway, rather than parking further down the street like he had last night. What was the point? Hopper planned on being confrontational, on getting the answers he was owed. A thin line of sweat dripped down his chest as he put the Blazer in park. Hopper’s deep blue eyes were darker than usual when he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was reminded briefly of those cheesy horror movies where a character in the film becomes possessed. Their eyes were always depicted as changing color, going a darker shade, as if the demon that had overtaken them was seeping through the very windows of their soul. Hopper’s reflection was slightly jarring. He wondered what was possessing him? His answer came easily; Hopper was possessed by you.

He threw open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut. Hopper wiped the sweat from his forehead, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette, quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want anything distracting him, not even a cigarette. Hopper decided he could smoke after he’d handled you. He could have rang the doorbell, but opted for the more aggressive option, banging his fist against the door in three firm, thudding knocks. A muffled voice from behind the door called out, “just a sec,” and Hopper cursed under his breath. It was Steve.

The front door pulled back and Hopper found himself once again in the presence of “King Steve,” Harrington. “What an honor,” Hopper sarcastically muttered. Steve didn’t hear, as he was too busy adjusting the t-shirt he’d obviously pulled on in a hurry to answer the door. It was on backwards, tag visible on the neckline. Steve looked less like a king and more like a pauper at the moment, his shorts crooked and hair a mess. Hopper took in the sight of the younger man, the rapid pace of his breathing, perspiration glistening on the end of Steve’s nose.

Except, it wasn’t sweat. Hopper could smell sex all over Steve, and he swallowed, hard. That was you…your sweet scent radiating from Steve’s body, covering his face and neck. Steve must have realized he looked a mess, because he quickly pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “Uh-hey Chief,” Steve said distractedly. “What’re you doing here?”

Hopper chewed his tongue so hard it hurt. How he wanted to end Steve Harrington, to shove past him and into your house. Hopper would find you and finish the job for Steve. And he’d do it better, too…

Hopper realized you must not have told Steve about last night, and that the time to confront you was not now. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard (y/n) called in sick today,” Hopper said quietly, then cleared his throat to speak more clearly. “Just checking to make sure she’s okay.”

Steve leaned an elbow against the doorway, nodding quickly and assuring Hopper in a flurry of words that you were “fine-just fine,” and “I’ll let her know you uh-you stopped by-.” And then, the door closed in Hopper’s face…

──────────────────

Hours passed.

Hopper drank.

The Hideaway stayed open till three AM on Mondays. It was a clever business move designed to entice customers in after what was typically the most stressful work day of the week. Right now, Hopper was just grateful to have a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The location didn’t matter; he would have gladly laid his cash and self respect on the bar of any nearby watering hole. Luckily for Hopper, The Hideaway was only a few minutes drive from your house, which made it the perfect place to kill time.

He checked his watch more often than he needed, drinking shot after shot of whatever contained the highest percentage of alcohol. After his encounter with Steve that evening, Hopper needed this. If he was angry before, he was furious now. That bastard had literally been fucking you in the next room right before answering the door. Hopper threw back another shot of vodka, sucking the last of it from the glass. The bartender had been watching him for some time now, taking note of how much alcohol Hopper was consuming. He’d known Hopper long before he was ever an officer, or an adult for that matter. Randy had known Hopper his entire life. He understood the pain Hopper had endured, from his time in Vietnam to the death of his daughter, and the eventual breakdown of his marriage. Randy understood how a man like Hopper could be motivated to drink in excess, turning to alcohol to quiet the memories that haunted him, like so many others who visited the bar. Although Hopper was an adult now, Randy still kept an eye on how much alcohol he had while in his establishment. It was one small way Randy could still take care of him. And he decided that Hopper had had enough.

“Hey Jimmy,” the old man said, approaching Hopper from behind the bar. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, drying it as he spoke. “You driving tonight?”

Hopper shook his head ‘no,’ and then laughed. Why should he lie? He was the Chief of Police, after all. But to spare the old man any worry, Hopper didn’t retract his lie. Instead, he doubled down on it, telling Randy through a series of slurred words that he’d walked there tonight, and planned on walking home. Randy wasn’t convinced; he knew Hopper’s trailer was all the way out by Lover’s Lake. Too far for anyone to choose walking into town over driving. But there was nothing else the old man could do besides refuse Hopper anymore alcohol. “Regardless,” Randy said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Jimmy.”

Hopper groaned, rising from his barstool. He opened his wallet and removed more than enough money to pay his tab, leaving it on the bar. “Keep th’change, Randy,” he drawled, adding “Thanks for always lookin’ out for me.” Hopper staggered to the front door, leaning on it for support as he pushed it open. The night was beautiful; the cloudless sky an inky canvas, sprinkled with stars that were easily visible. Hopper stood in place but swayed on his feet, staring up at the moon. He wondered if your bedroom curtain was open tonight, letting the moonlight in? Hopper decided to find out for himself…

──────────────────

You’d said goodnight to Steve around eleven that evening. After a long bath, you’d climbed into bed with a good book, read for awhile, then switched off your bedside lamp to go to sleep. Your mind, however, had different plans for you.

It had been nearly impossible to stop thinking about Hopper since last night. He’d been on your mind so often throughout the day, you’d swear he’d taken up residence inside your head. You knew he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon, claiming he wanted to make sure you were feeling better, or something to that effect. But you knew the real reason Hopper had shown up at your door, and that he was also worried you’d told Steve, maybe everyone, about last night. Your absence at work must have confirmed Hopper’s worry.

The truth, however, was much more complicated. You knew Hopper was sick. You’d known for awhile now. You’d seen the way he looked at you, sensed the energy coming from him. You’d recently become aware of Hopper’s compulsive masturbation in his office, ever since you’d taken his trash liner out (as you did with all the bins at the station before clocking out every night). At first, you’d been shocked by your discovery…but you quickly became intrigued. You wondered why Hopper needed to come so often…if maybe the way he looked at you was an indication of where his need was coming from?

The possibility of Chief Jim Hopper wanting you that desperately was…intoxicating. You’d had a crush on him from the moment you met, and in spite of your relationship with Steve, your crush had flourished into a kind of obsession. You knew exactly which cigarettes Hopper smoked (Camel’s, that was his preferred brand) how he liked his coffee (black with a spoonful of honey on the side), that his beer of choice was Schlitz. You’d purchased an aftershave that smelled like Hopper and made Steve use it. You’d snuck a peek at the tag on the navy jacket Hopper wore, and purchased one for yourself.

A favorite ritual of yours was to lay in bed wearing Hopper’s jacket and nothing else. You’d sprinkle a few drops of his aftershave onto your chest, and touch yourself. It wasn’t the same as having Hopper, but…it was enough to get you through the nights when Steve couldn’t satisfy you. Of course, your boyfriend made you come, and often. Steve was amazing in bed, and the sex you had with him was nearly perfect. The one fault you had with Steve (and it was major) was his sex drive. He simply didn’t need sex as much as you did, as often or as rough. Sometimes, you’d convince Steve to play rougher and he would, but not without asking a million times afterwards if he’d hurt you, if he’d made you feel cheap or used, or unloved? Steve was sweet, but his sweetness often got in the way of pursuing rougher intimacy, the kind you craved.

Like last night…Spitting into your mouth, and fucking you in the ass, were acts Steve never would have initiated himself. He preferred gentle, tender sex over anything. While Steve was content to be making love, you needed to be fucked. You wanted a man like Hopper to hurt you and not apologize for it. You wanted him to pump and dump you, leave you split in half and covered in his cum, and to never once say sorry…

You knew Hopper was sick, and you didn’t judge him for it. Because what no one else knew, not even Steve, was that you were sick, too. You couldn’t get enough sex, and Steve wasn’t meeting your needs. You’d kept your crush on Hopper a secret, resigning yourself to good, not great, sex.

When you saw Hopper standing outside your house last night, you made the spontaneous decision to dance for him. And when Steve appeared in the doorway, you realized an even better opportunity to ‘perform,’ for Hopper had presented itself.

Making sure to stand directly in front of the window where you knew Hopper could see everything, you’d let Steve fuck you. Knowing that Hopper was watching in secret made you unbelievably aroused. Seeing him coming all over himself afterwards was the confirmation you needed that Hopper wanted you. The visit he’d made to your home earlier had only been the beginning. You knew that if Jim Hopper wanted to fuck you…he’d be back.

The sound of your front door being unlocked startled you. It must be Steve, of course, since your boyfriend is the only other person with a key to your house. At least, that’s what you thought…

“Steve?”

The door slammed shut. Footsteps on the stairs told you immediately that this was not Steve. You knew his gait, the sound of his walk. You’d heard your boyfriend go up and down those stairs dozens of times. These steps were heavy, uneven. The intruder paused at the sound of your voice, when you called out “who’s there?”

Hopper stepped through your bedroom doorway, making you jump. “S’okay, it’s alright,” he said, lifting his hands to show you he meant no harm. “I just wanna talk, okay? We need to fuckin’ talk…” Hopper sat on the end of your bed, his weight shifting the mattress under you.

“I don’t want to talk,” you told him, to which Hopper immediately replied, “I understand. You’re probably very confused about last night, but you don’t have to be embarrassed.” You tried to interrupt, but Hopper wouldn’t let you get a word in. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me.” His voice was intense, darker. “You don’t show up at work- What am I supposed to think?!” Hopper slammed his fist against your bed, making you jump. “That my life is over? That I’m never gonna see you again?” Hopper’s speech was slurred, but you understood exactly what he was saying.

He was staring you down, his eyes lingering over the sheet concealing you. Hopper wanted so badly to rip the fabric back and see your body beneath it. All of his strength was focused on controlling himself, because despite the alcohol slurring Hopper’s words, he was very much aware of what was happening, and where he was. He was sitting on your bed, the most intimate place in your home. The place where you laid your head each night and dreamed, where you likely touched yourself. You were so vulnerable like this, Hopper realized. If he lost control right now, and let his darker impulses take hold of him, he might do something even worse than he’d done last night…

“I don’t want to talk,” you repeated, and Hopper laughed darkly. “Well that’s just fine, because I AM gonna talk and you’re gonna fucking LISTEN-.” Hopper grit his teeth, his jaw tensed. He wanted to punish you right now so badly, for making him endure the torture of your silence, your absence. You sat forward in bed, the sheet concealing your body falling aside. Hopper’s features softened, his lips parting slightly, eyes fixed on your exposed breasts. You watched as Hopper’s body language shifted, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed. He was obviously aroused by your nakedness, and for the first time all night, Hopper was at a loss for words.

Taking his hand, you placed his palm over your breast. Hopper drew in a deep breath, staring at his hand cupping your tit, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You repeated the same words, but slower. This time, Hopper knew precisely their meaning: “…I don’t…want…to TALK…” Hopper understood. You weren’t interested in talking. You wanted him to fuck you.

Hopper’s lips replaced his hand over your breast. Latching onto your nipple, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it before circling and sucking. Your surprised whimper at his intensity made Hopper’s cock stiffen, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He sank his teeth lightly into your breast, grunting into your tit when a low moan escaped your lips. The sounds you made were divine, even prettier than Hopper had imagined.

His hands gripped the flesh at your hips, groping along your belly to your thighs. His lips crushed against yours as he used his hands to spread your thighs wide open. Hopper felt your cum on his fingers, and put them to his lips. His tongue swept over your slick once, twice, three times, because to Hopper, you tasted like God. The scent of you hadn’t done justice to the divinity of your taste. Hopper sucked his fingers clean before grabbing your legs and tugging your ass down the bed toward him. You gasped, smiling, that smile Hopper could never get tired of seeing, all innocence and corruption at the very same time; a smile that looked angelic on a mouth built for nothing but sin…

Nestling between your legs, Hopper rested his cheek against your inner thigh. He wanted to savor these sensations…your cum slicking his cheek where it rested against your thigh…your scent vanilla sweet, just inches from his nose…the view of your soaked pussy glistening wet and warm…

Hopper lowered his face and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your clit. Your skin tasted so sweet, like a ripe peach waiting to be bitten. Hopper couldn’t go a second longer without your cunt in his mouth. With his big hands clenching your hips, Hopper pulled your cunt over his lips. Your back arched as Hopper flexed his tongue inside you, curving it around your g-spot.

Your fingers latched onto Hopper shoulders, bracing yourself as your body shivered. No one had ever licked your cunt like this, eating you from the inside out. You twisted and writhed, your lower back lifting off the mattress. If your hips hadn’t been anchored down by Hopper’s hands, you were convinced you’d be floating by now. It already felt like you were. Hopper was licking places so deep inside you, he forgot to breathe. His nose was pressed flush to your clit, his chin rutting against the curve of your ass. Hopper never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt, not even for air. He pressed two fingers inside you and with an almost hypnotic pace, Hopper expertly fingered your cunt. He spread your slippery lips apart with his tongue, honing in on your clit. Wrapping his mouth over the raised pink bud, Hopper sucked in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

Your eyes were on the ceiling, but you didn’t see it. You were floating, melting, dissolving under Hopper’s lips and around his fingers. The sopping wetness of you sprayed over Hopper’s face, your pillowy walls sucking and contracting around his fingers as you came. Hopper lapped at your cunt like a thirsty animal; he’d never been so drunk on a pussy that he’d blacked out like this, lost track of time and space and everything in between. Your cunt in Hopper’s mouth was like a strong hit of the best drug he’d ever tried. He was addicted instantly. No other pussy would be able to satisfy Hopper after this; he was sure of it. Hopper rubbed his face into your cunt, smearing your cum all over his face. He knew now why Steve was always covered in you; Hopper understood completely. Your cum smelled like every good pussy Hopper had ever had, combined.

As your hips stilled, Hopper lifted his face to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, a thin sheen of sweat coloring your cheeks ruddy, eyebrows cinched together. Your voice was weak, but you managed to softly whimper “more…” and pressed Hopper’s face into your cunt again. He took another hit, another drag, another shot of you. That euphoric bliss went straight to Hopper’s cock, and his climax took him by surprise, filling the crotch of his jeans with cum. You came harder this time, losing yourself for a moment in a black pool of pleasure, your eyes on the ceiling but not in this world anymore.

Hopper rose up from between your thighs, cum dripping off his chin as he hovered over your body. He smacked his palm against your pussy and you choked back a sob, a pain that Hopper was as quick to rub away as he was to dole out. He alternated between spanking your pussy with a force so brutal it shook the bed frame and made you cry, then rubbing his palm against your abused cunt till you were crying in pleasure. Hopper forced three fingers from one hand inside your sopping cunt and hooked them around your insides, ramming into your pussy as hard and as deep as he could, his knuckles disappearing inside you, fingertips nudging your cervix. All throughout this beautiful torture of your insides, Hopper continued to spank his other palm against your cunt. Your lips were already swollen but now, they were twice as puffy and twice as tempting to suck. Hopper removed his fingers from you and pushed his face between your legs again, growling into your plump heat, his spent cock stiffening again inside his cum-soaked jeans.

He pulled your lips between his, suckling at their pillowy softness. Hopper gulped your cum as you squirted again, sealing his open mouth over your pussy so he wouldn’t miss a drop. His stomach was full of cum, his tongue thick and heavy, and Hopper had never been a happier man. You pressed his shoulders back, and he let you climb on top of him. You rubbed yourself against Hopper’s crotch, the bulge in his jeans wet with both his cum and now yours. Speeding your lips around the outline of his cock, you humped Hopper through his jeans. The weight of you on top of his cock made Hopper groan, the rocking of your hips as you rutted over and over again along his clothed erection pushing Hopper over the edge. He came inside his jeans again, grunting through his climax as you never stopped humping him, as you drained every drop from Hopper’s cock and refused to climb off till you’d come again, too.

Despite the fact that he’d already come twice, Hopper couldn’t stop getting hard again within five minutes of coming. He pulled his cock from his jeans, shaking it by the base, letting his cum fall off his dick and onto your stomach. Hopper grabbed your hips and flipped you over, spitting on your asshole and rubbing his fat tip against it. Without warning, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open just like you wanted. You yelped in pain; Hopper’s hand found your mouth, cupping around your face from behind. “Bite down,” he ordered, shoving his fingers between your lips. Hopper fucked you harder as your teeth sank into his skin. The pain in your asshole began to subside as you braced your teeth around Hopper’s fingers. His cock was stretching your asshole beyond its capacity to hold him; but with every punch of your guts, the pain got easier and easier to take.

“I’m gonna come-,” Hopper panted over your back. “I’m gonna come again-FUCK!” Hopper emptied his third load inside you, painting your asshole with semen. His body shivered, trembling, and you felt the vibration through his cock, still hard as a diamond in your ass. Sweat dripped from Hopper’s chest onto your back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, sucking the small bit of blood off of them. Hopper lazily humped the soft curves of your ass, pushing his cum deeper as his cock softened inside you. “You did so good,” Hopper murmured against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl…”

You tilted your head back, lips parted in a contented smile. Your hair was drenched in sweat, wispy strands sticking to your forehead. Hopper took his time kissing each one, letting his cock linger inside you, making sure every single drop of his cum was deposited there. When he did pull out, Hopper trailed kisses along the curve of your back, gently removing his cock from inside you.

“Is there a mess?” you asked, and Hopper smirked, looking down at his dick.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, reaching for a tissue box on your nightstand and using them to wipe his cock clean. You realized the sun would be coming up soon, and that you’d both have to get ready for work. “How about a shower and some breakfast?” you asked, and Hopper smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.

After showering, you showed Hopper where the kitchen was and he made you both scrambled eggs and toast. He needed to leave a little early to go home and change into his uniform. You kissed Hopper goodbye and watched him walk to his vehicle through your front doorway. And it occurred to you that this…all of this…was absolutely going to happen again.

@mrshopper84

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 12

Series Masterlist

➪in which you ask for space, and bradley reluctantly gives it to you, but that doesn’t stop him from sending one last (and kind of desperate) text.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.4k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The second Bradley saw you, his entire body tensed up, because he knew what this looked like. His ex was damn near naked in his bed, and he had just left the bathroom and looked like he just woke up.

Of fucking course it looked bad. 

But nothing happened, and he knew that, but you did not. And you didn’t even give him the chance to say that before you were turning around and practically running out his bedroom door. “Baby,” he called after you and was instantly crossing the room as he glared at Briana. “Get the fuck up and go, alright? I mean it.” Was all he said to her before he quickly followed after you. 

You were smaller than him, and probably pissed off beyond words, so you were a lot faster than normal. When he passed through his doorframe, you were already out the front door, and he had to run down the stairs to be able to catch up with you. 

“Y/n!” He called your name, but you weren’t answering him. You bolted down the front steps and began speed walking down the sidewalk, and Bradley briefly wondered how you could possibly move that fast with such short legs since he was having a hard time closing the distance. 

Just as you reached out and tossed the takeout bag you were holding into the trash can, he was finally given the chance to reach out to you.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip gentle but firm as he turned you to face him. “Please, please, listen to me okay? Please, what you saw, that was-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bradley,” you cut him off and pulled your hand away from him so quickly, he didn’t have time to tighten his grip before you broke the contact. “I don’t, alright? Just…please.”

Bradley furrowed his brows and shook his head. He needed to make it known that what you saw wasn’t at all what it looked like, even though that was the oldest excuse in the oldest fucking book on earth. “No, baby, just listen, please,”

“I don’t want to,” you quickly say and step away from him. “I just saw your ex in your bed, Bradley. I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now, okay?”

Your words hurt him more than he thought they would, but he still didn’t let you get too far before he was trying to close the distance again. You were the best thing in his life right now, the last thing he wanted to do was fuck that up because of a misunderstanding. “Babes, just stop for a second, okay?” He begged, trying and failing to get you to meet his eyes. “It isn’t what it looks like, alright? And I know, I know, everyone says that, but I mean it.”

“Bradley, please,” you said quietly and he didn’t even need to see your eyes to know that you were crying, and he felt like the biggest asshole in the entire world right now. “Let’s not do this, please. I think…I think maybe we rushed into this.”

That literally left him speechless, because to him it couldn’t be further from the truth. Maybe he rushed into it at the beginning, but everything felt like it was going at the perfect pace to him. And he knew it was the same for you, he could tell. You were lying to him right now in an attempt to protect yourself from him, and that left him with the worst feeling settling in his bones. 

“Y/n, please,” he tried again but you just shook your head. 

“Maybe you’re not fully over Briana, and…and maybe I’m not over Luke. Why else would your ex be in your bed, Bradley? Maybe we just need some time away from each other to figure things out,” you whispered and wiped your eyes. “Can you give me that? Please?”

He didn’t want to give you that. Fuck, he really did not want to give you that. He wanted to beg you some more and fully explain what you saw in his bedroom, but the look you were giving him told him that you were so close to breaking down, and he didn’t want to push you to that point. 

So he nodded slowly, his hand aching to reach out and grab yours as he asked, “Can I call you later? Or…or text you?”

You looked up at him and finally let him see your pretty eyes, then your gaze drifted behind him, and his heart fell even more. He didn’t need to turn around to know what you were looking at as you shook your head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,”

Then you were turning away and fleeing down the sidewalk towards the other side of campus before he could get another word out. “I’m sorry,” he called out pathetically after you, but you ignored him until you were out of his sight. 

Bradley turned and saw Briana swaying on her feet on the steps of his house, her shirt and skirt back on and her heels in her hand. “She ran off quickly,” she laughed as she stumbled onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t even get to formally introduce myself.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed past her as he stepped back into his house and went to slam the door behind him, but her hand stopped it from fully closing.

“Wait, aren’t you going to drive me back to that frat house so I can find my bag?” She asked as if she didn’t just single handedly ruin his relationship with you. 

Bradley’s gaze hardened as he glared at her. “Why the fuck,” he started and she quickly stepped away before he could finish his question and began walking down the sidewalk, not even bothering to put her heels back on.  

“Alright, Brad,” she laughed again, winking back at him. “But since you’re single again, maybe you and I can reconnect and-”

Bradley didn’t even want to hear the rest of that as he slammed the door shut behind him and went back up to his room. Briana had left his sheets sprawled all over his bed, and her mascara was on his pillow, and he wished he could go back to Saturday night when you and he were so fucking happy.

When he stepped forward, his foot touched something soft, and he looked down to see his jersey on the floor, right where you had dropped it before running out of his room. He reached for it, and when he lifted it up, a wave of coconut and rose filled his senses, the same exact scent his bed smelled like before Briana tainted it with the stench of booze.

Now he was miserable as he plugged his phone in and tore apart his bedding, shoving the alcohol smelling sheets into the washing machine down the hall. When he got back to his room, he fell onto his bed that no longer smelled like you, and grabbed his still charging phone. The single text that was sent nearly forty minutes ago made him feel even worse. 

Babes🩷: I miss you, flyboy. Breakfast? On me 😚❤️ 

-

You were a mess when you got back to your dorm.

Your eyes were sore from holding back the tears in public, but as soon as you entered your house, they poured down your face

You felt so stupid and embarrassed. Briana was fucking stunning, you knew that from all the photos you deleted of her on Bradley’s phone as he went down on you. At the time, that was one of the hottest experiences of your life, but now you just felt fucking dumb.

She was beautiful, of course she managed to push her way back into Bradley’s heart and bed as soon as you left. 

You were literally speechless as you leaned back against the door, and the sound of footsteps coming down the hall made you cringe, because you knew Sam was going to have a field day with this one. “Hey,” she said flatly as she crossed her arms. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Not now, Sam,” you mumbled, wiping at your ruined makeup as you crossed the living room in an attempt to hide in your room until you had to go to class. 

Of course that wasn’t going to happen as Sam reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey,” she said again, turning you to face her. “What happened? Wait, let me guess.”

She almost sounded excited now and you squeezed your eyes shut as you felt another wave of embarrassment wash over you, because you were about to get brutally ripped into. You defended Bradley when she called him a rebound, and you were so convinced that you had a real thing going on with him, and it totally blew up in your face. Oh yeah, she was going to have a fucking blast making fun of you about this. 

“Your ‘boyfriend’, aka your rebound, turned out to be just that. A rebound,” she started, pulling her hand away from you as she laughed. “And now you’re crying because you thought he was actually into you when all he wanted was an easy lay in a newly single girl.”

The words leaving her mouth were cruel and awful and had you questioning how she was ever your friend in the first place. She really hid this side of her well, you guessed. “Sam-”

“And to think you ended things with my brother, who was waiting for you to get your shit together and get back with him, only for you to dump him,” she let out another humorless laugh and crossed her arms. “And here you are, crying over the guy you chose over him, the one who never actually wanted you in the first place. Am I close with this?”

You sniffled and glared at your roommate as best as you could, but you probably just looked even more pathetic. “You know, Sam, you’re supposed to be my friend,” you say, your voice a bit hoarse from all the crying you’ve done since you got home. “You’re supposed to be comforting me and supporting me, but you’re just making me feel worse, and for what? Because I broke up with your brother months ago, and it only just clicked for you now? You’re fucking mean, Sam, and I’m not going to stand here and listen to this anymore.”

Sam opened her mouth to respond, but you just turned on your heel and speed walked down the hall until you reached your room, and you quickly opened then slammed the door as more tears fell down your face. 

After the sight you walked into at Bradley’s place, and now with your ex friend, you felt exhausted and worn out, despite it only being nine thirty in the morning. Sam pissed you off, and you wondered if this was how Bradley felt after Eli’s interruption of your heated makeout session on the couch. And then you started thinking about Bradley again and how happy you were yesterday. And now you were sobbing harder.

You dropped your school bag onto the floor before stepping further into your room, and soon enough, your eyes landed on Bradley’s flannel he gave you the day after he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

You knew you should throw it out the window or maybe set it on fire, but instead you walked over to it and ran your fingers over the blue and white fabric. The first time you saw the shirt was when he was wearing it as he made you dinner, then asked you to be official. Then you asked him to bring it to you the next day so you could keep it, and you shamelessly wore it around your room pretty often. 

It still smelled like him when you brought it up to your nose, and you felt like you were going to be sick as a swarm of emotions hit you hard. 

Anger. Embarrassment. Sadness. Longing. 

You already missed him, even though it was clear he didn’t miss you.

You hadn’t even been away from him for more than sixteen hours before he had another girl in his fucking bed, his ex no less, and you wondered how many others there were that you were so blind to. 

Thinking that Bradley had a handful of girls coming over to his place after you left was a hard thing to think about, and you really wanted to believe that it wasn’t true. He was so sweet to you, made you feel adored and seen. He was the best boyfriend you had ever had, even though it was short lived. You didn’t want to believe that he was actually a terrible guy. The person you saw when you were with him wasn’t like that, but what choice did you have after seeing what you did?

He didn’t even try to get you to stay with him, even though you practically begged him to leave you alone. But still, you were hurt. 

Your mind was filled with the worst thoughts, and you forced yourself to believe that the only reason he sounded so upset was because he was caught, not because it was one massive misunderstanding. 

-

Bradley was pretty much useless in class as he stared at the wall the whole time.

He was pissed off at Briana and himself for not fighting harder for you on the sidewalk this morning, but you were so sad and certain, he didn’t want to make you feel even worse. So he stupidly and regretfully let you walk away without even mentioning the fact that he did not sleep with his ex, let alone intentionally allow her to spend the night in his bed. 

He wanted to spam you with texts, but you asked him for space, and even though he didn’t want any space from you, he respected you too much to go out of his way to deny your wishes. 

You wanted a break, or a full on break up, and he didn’t want that at all. You already meant so much to him in such a short amount of time, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to get over you for a long time if you were to clarify that you and he were no longer together. You hadn’t said that yet, but he had a strong feeling that it was coming soon.  

He didn’t want to break up. The weeks he’s spent with you have been the best he’s ever had since starting University, and he didn’t want to give that up. It was too soon, he hadn’t had you for nearly as long as he wanted to. It was too soon. 

Once class was over, Bradley was walking back to his place when Eli and Wes spotted him across the campus and began making their way over. “Fuck,” he muttered, closing his eyes tightly as he stopped walking and waited for them to reach him. “What?”

“Ouch,” Eli laughed, nudging Bradley’s side in a way that made Bradley want to rip his arm off. “Rude way to greet your friends, dude.”

“Yeah, man, lighten up,” Wes agreed. “What’s up with you?”

Bradley huffed and rubbed at his eyes before letting his arm drop down to his side. “Y/n and I got into something today,” he answered as simply as he could, because he didn’t want either of these guys knowing his business.

“Damn,” Eli mumbled, “And here I thought you two looked inseparable this weekend.”

Wes furrowed his brows and looked between Eli and Bradley. “Wait what?”

“Yeah, dude,” Eli laughed again. “That chick was all over our boy here, and he was pretty much all over her, too. What happened, Brad?” He asked once he looked back at Bradley. 

He was not about to tell them about Briana, but he didn’t need to, because a fourth guy joined in on the conversation, and Bradley briefly remembered him from the night at the party he met you at. What was his name? Jackson? “Hey,” the guy grunted as he stepped into Bradley’s space. “You just had to take her back, huh?”

Bradley furrowed his brows as he looked at the guy whose name he couldn’t remember. “What?”

“Briana,” the guy said, and it clicked. This was Jensen, the dude Briana was all over in the kitchen at the party. The dude who helped motivate Bradley to make that dumb fucking bet. “I asked her to come over last night, but she told me she was going to see you. Said she was going to get you back or some shit.”

Eli and Wes, of course, perked up at that, but Bradley was confused. “What?” he asked again, gripping his bag strap as he looked at Jensen. “Briana was at a party last night.”

“Yeah, and she said you were there with her,” Jensen scoffed as he pushed his finger against Bradley’s chest. “You already had her, man, you couldn’t let me try her out? You just had to get back with her, huh?”

Eli let out a low whistle as Bradley shook his head, even more confused now. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t get back with her, dude, I already have a girlfriend,”

“Had,” Wes corrected and Bradley glared at him before turning back to Jensen and pushing his hand away. 

“I didn’t get back with her, alright? I picked her up from a party and let her crash at my place. That’s it,” he said and held his bag strap a bit tighter. “I don’t know what exactly she told you, but I’m not interested in her anymore, okay? We’re done.”

Jensen gave him a look that showed his disbelief, but Bradley honestly didn’t care about this conversation anymore. He just wanted to go back home, maybe send you a quick text, and finish making his bed so he can lie in it for the rest of the day. 

“Look, she’s all yours,” he mumbled. “Though you might want to rethink the way you talk about girls. It’s probably why she dumped you.”

Eli snickered then he and Wes quickly followed after Bradley as he walked away from Briana’s other ex. “Dude, you didn’t tell me Bri slept over last night,”

“Yeah,” Wes chimed in. “Looks like we owe you some money.”

“No, you don’t,” Bradley quickly said and stopped walking to turn and face the two. “How many times do I have to tell you that the bet is off, and how it was never really on in the first place? Y/n and I are…fine, okay? We’re gonna work things out.”

“Uh huh, that’s what you said about Bri,” Eli grunted, then quickly put his hands up when Bradley gave him a look of warning. “Anyway, party tomorrow? I have a guy coming over to deliver a bunch of beer.”

A party on a Tuesday night? What the hell was wrong with these guys?

Before Bradley could turn down the idea, Eli added, “You can invite Bri,” he grinned with a raise of his brows. “Maybe you two can get back together for real.”

“Yeah,” Wes agreed, “Really piss off that fucking guy back there.” He gestured towards Jensen, but Bradley was already forming an idea in his head.

Maybe the party was a good idea…but not because he wanted to invite Briana, fuck that…but maybe you’d come? You came to his last one, even though you got ditched early on, you told him that he saved you that night by coming up and talking to you.  

Yeah, you were very clearly pissed at him right now, rightfully so, but there’s a possibility you may come, and Bradley would be fucking dumb to not take it. He hoped you would see it as an opportunity to scream at him for doing something that he didn’t actually do, then he could bring up the fact that you’re completely out of your mind if you think he would ever cheat on you. Let alone with Briana fucking Prescot. 

So Bradley walked home with Eli and Wes, and he immediately went up to his room. He tossed his bag onto the bed and pulled out his phone, clicking on your contact. After looking at the cute picture he set for you that was taken the same night he asked you to be his girlfriend, he began typing out a text, and he hoped he didn’t sound too desperate, but he kind of was.

[anthonys237thfreckle]

‘Let You Break My Heart Again’ - Javier ‘Javi’ x Kate Carter & F! reader (angst songfic)

I WAS LISTENING TO LAUFEY ON REPEAT AND REMINDED OF MY HIGH SCHOOL LOVE TRIANGLE SO WHY NOT WRITE A FIC ABOUT IT!!! HERE YOU GO!

part two

prompt: your heart belonged to javi, but his belonged to kate.

TW: unrequited love, angst, crying, swearing, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts (happens thrice), loss of appetite more than once, breakdowns, mention of throwing up.

Feeling kind of sick tonight

All I've had is coffee and leftover pie..

Today was just the worst. Shitty day at work, your in-charge was being a sweetheart to everyone except you, it’s like the whole world was playing a cruel joke on you today.

With no will to eat, you mindlessly looked in your fridge, the cool air and cool glow hitting your skin. Your eyes skimmed through something to hopefully make your feel better, and your eyes landed on a small glass Tupperware.

Peach cobbler pie.

You sighed, taking it out of the fridge and setting it on the counter, brewing some black coffee. The paperwork you had been procrastinating on started to pile up, and you had some weather reports due tomorrow. You needed the bitter drug, the pie there to balance the taste with its tender sweetness.

You were tender once; you were sweet once…

It’s no wonder why…

Life became hard and bitter once you moved away.

Well, did you have a reason to stay?

After that EF5, after holding onto Kate in that underpass for dear life, making sure she didn’t get sucked into that twister, Javi found you two and called the cops to help you both out.

Thing is, you always knew Javi had a thing for Kate. Even when she was dating Jeb, you saw the way he looked at her, the same way you’d look at him. And Kate didn’t ignore those looks of his, nor did she not notice them…

Ooh, still you take up all my mind…

You almost confided in Addy or Praveen about your feelings. You loved Javier. Ever since you both got super close in college. Ever since he’d always treat you like a good friend would. You ran on this high, you chased to be in his line of sight, craved his attention… You were soft, you were tender, you were sweet. You wanted to be it all, for him.

I don't even think that you care like I do

You were known as the ‘ray of sunshine’ or the ‘sweetheart’ in your friend group because you were just so nice. Mostly in the hopes of wooing Javier whenever you could. Make him think what it would be like to date you. Part of you loved to see his smile, loved the ‘thank you’s he’d give you, collecting them like shiny rocks. You usually found them on your morning walks, giving one to Javi whenever you thought he’d like them. But he just put them in his bag and forgot about them a few days later.

I should stop, heaven knows I've tried…

Days in college were spent fantasizing about him; about the way his arms would feel around you. He rarely hugged you. 3 times, to be exact - on his birthday, the day you both passed your finals, and when he found you were okay after the EF5. You couldn’t help but want to call him, text him, but what would you say?

And if he really wanted to talk to you, why didn’t he already? It’s been 5 years since you both have exchanged a word. 5 years since you two have seen each other’s faces. you had changed since college, no doubt. your hair was different; layered. Your style changed a little bit too, you wore makeup to work, in the hopes of being treated differently. You looked prettier with makeup on, anyways. Just a little highlighter, mascara, blush… nothing too overboard. Part of you dolled yourself up in the hopes of running into Javi in the streets somehow.

‘I should stop’ you thought to yourself as you got ready one day for work. You stared at your reflection, not knowing what you were looking for. Sighing, you finished up your makeup, surrendering to beautification, heading off to work.

“Someone’s here for you in the conference room” a co-worker told you. You gave them a confused look, walking to the conference room, to meet a familiar mop of curly hair - a lot shorter now, and the man you loved in a suit. Javier Rivera.

Of course he convinced you to come back to chasing storms. Of course he said it’ll be almost like the old times. Of course Kate was coming too.

You wanted to say no, you wanted to say you couldn’t, but he came all the way to look for you; once tender and sweet. The prospect of someone looking for you was something you dreamed of since you were an angsty teen. The prospect of someone caring about you enough to come back…

At least you tried to decline.

One day, I will stop falling in love with you

Some day, someone will like me like I like you…

The drive to Oklahoma was meant to be awkward. It meant to be tense. It meant to be hard on Javi. To make him feel bad. For you to act all pouty and mean just because you could. Just so you could if not tell, show him how hurt you were when he just disappeared.

But when he started to smile, crack jokes, retell stories, you couldn’t help but be nice in return. The rushing feelings came back, and for a moment, you forgot about Kate. You forgot about life being bitter and hard. All you remembered was being sweet and tender, because with Javi, it was familiar. It was natural. It felt like home.

Every soft look from Javi made you fall harder for him. To be treated like he once did to you. Friends. Best friends.

You both drove to Oklahoma, which wasn’t too far exactly, and he offered if you wanted to go out for dinner with him and Kate.

You wanted to be hard and bitter again.

As you and Javi went into a local diner near a motel, you both saw Kate sitting in a booth, waving to you. Or so you thought - she was looking Javi in the eye, who had a grin on his face. He sat in the booth with Kate, opposite to you. They both smiled at each other, and you wanted to be swallowed by the same EF5 your friends left in, because maybe, just maybe, Javi would have cared more about you if you were dead.

Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie

Pretend that we are more than friends…

“… just some coffee and peach cobbler pie, please” you flashed the waiter a warm, tired smile. You didn’t look at Javi or Kate, rather traced the wooden table, stared out the window, faked a yawn, bounced your leg.. of course they didn’t say anything to you. They had their little side conversation.

As your face was turned a 90 degree angle from the two, from the corner of your eye, you saw Kate squeeze Javi’s bicep. You downed a mouthful of coffee, coughing after. Javi handed you a tissue, not sparing you a glance as he laughed at something Kate said.

Suddenly you have no appetite.

Then, of course, I'll let you break my heart again

You put your head down on the table, Kate glanced at the mop of hair on the table

“Hey, you doin’ okay?” she asked softly, Javi looked at you for the first time during dinner.

“Do you feel sick?” He asked brows knitting in concern.

You shot up, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, this coffee made me feel sick.” Javi looked at your basically untouched pie, but empty cup of coffee, and back into your rosy eyes.

“Get some rest, yeah?” Kate suggested. Javi nodded. You sighed.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight, you two” you rubbed your face, giving them a small wave. They both smiled softly, waving back.

As you reached the exit, you looked over your shoulder as much as you didn’t want to, and saw the two smiling and laughing again.

With a heavy heart, you checked into your motel, took a sip of water to calm your body down, and with one glance in the mirror, you broke down; crying yourself to sleep, with tears staining your face and your pillows, the land of rest took you in for the night.

I'm just tryna understand what I am to you

More than songs, we've exchanged

Midnight calls, sunset views

Over the next few days, you spent them chasing with Storm Par. Of couse Javi went with Kate. She had more genius than you did, apparently, even though you two were both equally smart.

Javi talked to you that morning, his charming grin greeting you along with the early morning sun.

“Dandy weather, yeah?” he nudged you, trying to get you to cheer up. You rewarded his efforts with a small, half hearted smile.

You both had a pretty genuine chat, just like in college, until Kate joined you two. Then again, you were invisible. And the tension between the two was as strong as a supercell. You were obviously hurt, because your time in college was so much… richer. Late at night after curfew, you two would sneak out because you two were the only ones up for that kinda stuff. You’d go to the roof, stay up there talking all night then watch the sunrise together. Now, the only one he orbited was Kate, Kate, Kate.

Then, it was time to chase.

You paired up with Scott instead, being a little emotionless that day, and gave him a respectful nod of acknowledgement. The chase was silent apart from the orders coming from the radio. No conversation was initiated - you didn’t wanna have another breakdown.

For the first chase, which failed because Kate had a PTSD attack, you saw Javi comfort her after they got back to the motel; The sky was now dark, every storm chaser had a bonfire up, the atmosphere was enough to heal Kate alone, but of course, Javi was there for her too.

Your heart clenched. You remembered how hard you cried last night, almost suffocating against the sheets many times. The room was dull, taunting, and the only thing who could have helped you in that moment was Javi. But why would he see your pain and not Kate’s first?

You all gathered around the bonfire - the Storm Par crew, some other group called the Tornado Wranglers, some local chasers and what not. You saw the tall, orange fire. It looked inviting. Your breathing stilled, your body relaxed, your mind wandered.

You were disassociating, looking at everything from the 3rd person POV, the chasers in a circle around the fire, Kate and Javi next to each other a few seats away from you, talking like normal. You kept saying Javi’s name, yelling it, screaming it, but no matter what you did, he didn’t even spare you a glance. So you looked behind, turning around, and saw the fire. Without a second glance at him, without thinking, you walked into the warm, welcoming flames, feeling it consume you, swallow you whole-

At the sound of everyone toasting to more twisters, you snapped out of your little morbid daydream. Looking over at Javi and Kate, you saw her leaning against his side, his arm around her waist, smiles on their faces. Kate whispered something into Javi’s ear, and he looked down at her with a grin. She cupped his cheek, your eyes stung, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, romantic, kiss.

Promise I don't mean to cry

But I get overwhelmed and confused

If only you knew what I felt like

Your eyes stung, your bile rose in your throat, your lungs felt like they were collapsing and you wanted nothing more than to be disoriented, sedated, dead.

Breathing hard, you fled for the fields. Knocking over one of Javi’s beer bottles by accident, you speed walked, then ran to the backside of the motel, where there was a patch of grass. The surroundings were dark, the crickets seemed to taunt you, and your head was spinning. You needed more air than you could take in, your head had a dull, throbbing pain in it, you wanted to throw up, purge those feelings onto the soft grass.

You cried, covering your face and cried. Hard. Your whole body was stiff.

He kissed her

He kissed her. Oh he kissed her, he kissed her, he kissed her.

You didn’t even hear the footsteps behind you. You didn’t even register Javi running after you to check in on you.

“God damnit, are you okay? What’s wrong?!” He panicked, not touching you, though he knew you loved physical touch.

Why would he, anyway? He had a girlfriend-

Kate Carter.

“Leave… me a-alone” you wheezed, hiding your face, curling into a ball onto the dirt.

“Please” you begged, “I-I can’t be down here, I need to go ho-home” you cried “it- it’s a family emergency.” you lied through your teeth. Of course he wouldn’t question it. He didn’t care enough to even look at you. Why would he question a pretty good reason?

Javi looked at you, his face concerned. He nodded.

“I- Okay, alright. Take care, (Y/N)” he said softly. Genuinely.

It took all your willpower not to launch yourself into his arms. But the thought that Kate had been in them more often than you did sickened you.

One day, I will stop falling in love with you

Some day, someone will like me like I like you

So you ran through the fields, ran until your lungs burned, until you were going to faint, running on nothing but peach cobbler pie and coffee since almost 24 hours ago.

Your legs gave out, and your hands embraced the ground below, seeking comfort from Mother Nature which nobody could give you. Your body was folded and like a wounded animal, you let out guttural, gut wrenching sobs. You wanted to unsee it, to pour Javi’s beer over your eyes, to gouge them out for their sockets.

“Make it stop” you sobbed, choking on your saliva. “Please, make it stop” you prayed to the heavens above and the spirits below. You needed this to stop. The pain, the jealousy, the love to stop.

You fell asleep there in the field, Your breathing ragged, yet eventually even. You mumbled, whimpered, cried in your sleep. Seeing Javi kiss Kate. Seeing Javi hug Kate. Seeing Javi move in with Kate. Seeing Javi say ‘I love you’ to Kate, and Kate saying ‘I love you’ back. It was all Javi and Kate, Javi and Kate, Javi and Kate…

It wasn’t until one of the Wranglers found you that you woke up.

“Hey, it’s the girl from Storm Par!” The blonde man said to himself. You stirred, groaning.

“Tyler Owens?” you blinked your eyes open, he offered you a hand, which you ignored and got up.

“What’re you doin’ out here in the fields?” He asked, chewing some wheat between his teeth.

You hesitated. “Long story, but if you can drive me to the train station, I think we have enough time to go over it.” you asked with a pleading look. “Please, Tyler, one favour”

Tyler sighed, giving up “Sure. That’s what friends are for”. You smiled, thanking him.

Then you both disappeared off to the train station at 6:35 in the morning, where Tyler was so kind to lend you a ride. You went over the whole story, since college to now. 5 years worth of internalized drama, not sparing a single detail; He nodded along, gave his animated reactions, gave his input and advice where necessary. And soon enough, you were at the train station.

“Thanks for the ride, Tyler.” you thanked again, genuinely “and dont tell anyone about this” you said seriously, referring to the situation you described.

“Scout’s honour” He gave you his flashy smile “Take care out there, cowgirl” he chuckled. You nodded and smiled, grabbing your bag.

“You too”

Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie

Pretend that we are more than friends

Then, of course, I'll let you break my heart again

Back at home, you delved back into work, relieved to be away from the new couple. Life was bitter and hard, accompanied by your peach cobbler pie; you never really got over Javi and Kate, you just tried forgetting about them. Whenever you read a romance book or watched some rom-com, you imagined the couples to be you and Javi. Sometimes, you’d dream of you and Javi together, as a couple.

But as you dreamed of this, a few states away, Kate was living your wished reality.

—

taglist!!:

@urbexbat

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 6

Despondency

Summary: Everything blows up. Words: 1.6k TWs: reference to miscarriage

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

When you first woke up you were unaware that yesterday your world had just stopped. You wondered why you were cold when usually your husband stayed in bed with you until you woke up and him holding you always made things a perfect temperature. 

And then it all came back and you shot out of bed like a bullet. You needed to get to Joe. This was never how you wanted him to find out who his father was, and you felt like the worst mother on the planet for letting him be sent away after such a traumatic revelation. You needed to apologise and see how he was doing, sit down and talk with him before anything else. 

Fuck you felt old and worn beyond your years. But you fought the despondency, your kid needed you. You loved Simon and you loved Johnny, but they would always come second to your son and you were so sure they would not have it any other way. 

The moment you stumbled out of the bedroom you heard the arguing. 

“She’s my fucking wife! Yer a shite best friend LT, how could ye?”

You probably should have gotten some context before inserting yourself in the conversation but you were hardly thinking before you barrelled down the stairs and into the heart of it. They needed to calm down. Everyone needed to be thinking first and foremost of the brilliant little boy caught in the middle. 

“I- we never would have if we knew you were alive Johnny! I wouldn't betray you like that and neither would he! He was your best friend, please, you know he wouldn't hurt someone he loves like that.”

“Aye, we naw counting Las Almas then?”

Johnny knew it was cruel, but he had become a cruel man in Russia. He had to be. He had used so many cruel truths over the past decade to prove himself. But you were not the acceptable collateral he had just made of you to hurt Simon. Simon may not have loved you yet back when he had betrayed you, but the betrayal stood all the same.

He looked like the Ghost he called himself, pale and sickly. So he hadn't told you then. He had married you without ever telling you how his hands had pushed at your husbands shoulders to get him to present properly so he could take him deeper. How his cock had spilled filthy promises inside of him as his tongue dripped with the honey of confession. If I had known I would have scared her off at the start. If I had known what it'd feel like to watch you fall in love with someone else.

“No, fuck no princess that is not what he's talking about. I promise you that's not what he means.”

Johnny looked at you and saw the horror on your face. Not just horror though. Guilt. That was definitely guilt.

“What is it ye think I mean exactly?” he growled, starting to lose himself to the anger of the moment. 

“I- I-” you stuttered out, clearly in a panic. 

He came to the wrong conclusion.

“It was Simon I sent tae tell ye I was hurt… ye didn't get back to base until the day after” he said, almost startled at the realisation of what he thought he had uncovered. 

“Jesus fuck! I was in the med bay and ye needed someone tae get ye through was that it? A moment of weakness? Didnae even think tae tell me even when I asked ye tae marry me or when ye got pregnant with our son?!”

Somewhere in the depths of his mind he knew that they were the words he had been screaming at himself for over a decade. The words he tried to reassure himself with even when they weren't true. Simon had never been a moment of weakness. Looks like he hadn't been for you either. That’s what made him so angry, that he couldn’t even blame you.

The Simon he knew would have become Ghost on him by now. He’d be scruffed by the neck and growled at to calm down. But this was not quite the Simon he knew. Instead of paying any mind to him, he was desperately holding your face with complete tenderness, trying to block Johnny out. You looked… well now that Johnny was trying to figure out what the fuck was happening, you looked ruined. 

Surely he must be right then? What else could have happened on a night where Simon stayed over. Fuck he was a hypocrite. He knew it and it made him so goddamn mad at himself. Typical John MacTavish, hurting everyone around him. He choked back panic and got out of there fast before his anger could turn back on himself in front of two of the people he loved most in the world.  

– 

Simon couldn’t worry about Johnny right at that moment. His priority was you because he knew exactly what you had taken from that outburst. Fuck. You thought Johnny was angry at you over the miscarriage. 

“Hey it’s ok, breathe for me.”

“I- he- it was all my fault. I should have done something differently. I should’ve known earlier so I wasn’t drinking and was eating right.”

He couldn’t do it. He had thought about it, letting you believe that’s what had made Johnny mad.

“He thinks we slept together that night.”

He saw the confusion. Of course you’d be confused because why would Johnny ever think that? Only what you didn’t know was that he already knew he was capable of fucking people he shouldn’t be. He thought about saving himself. He had no guarantee he would ever get to hold you again if you knew what he had done, how selfish he had been. Johnny had shown him that ring and he had lost it. Changed nothing that he was stupidly in love with the idiot, he wasn’t his to love. Maybe you weren’t either. 

“I fucked him in Las Almas” he said, blunt and clear. 

You blinked at him, shocked still. It took a moment to even figure out what those words meant because surely not. There was no way that while you were at home going through the most traumatic period of your life alone that your husband was sleeping with his best friend. There was no way that said best friend was then the one to comfort you about it with the taste of your husband still on his tongue. 

And then Johnny had… that motherfucker had come back from the dead and acted like you were the one in the wrong for falling in love after he faked his own death? He hadn’t even asked about his son. His son who had his eyes and his laugh and his temper. No, he had swanned in like he hadn’t broken your heart and acted like you had no right to move on when he had cheated and lied. 

Maybe you should have been angry at Simon and you were sure that would come later, but right now you were storming after the fucking idiot trying to run away from his problems without even responding to your husband (second husband perhaps, you wondered vaguely if you were now breaking the law, not that it mattered when you were about to murder the first one).

“John MacTavish you get your arse back here!”

Johnny’s anger sparked against your tone and he turned himself right around. You wanted a fight? Oh he was ready for a fight. If he was honest with himself hearing you sound so angry was a relief after seeing the look on your face before.  

“Right then, let’s dae this!”

You turned the corner in a fury. He was taken aback. He had seen you mad, had yelling matches with you, but this was something altogether different. It scared the shit out of him. 

“Sure let’s. While you were busy sleeping with your superior officer I was losing our first baby all by myself. You then sent that superior officer to tell me you were hurt and I wanted to die. He stayed with me because I wasn’t in any state to be alone, but unlike you I was fully sincere when I told you I loved you so I didn’t do anything with him!”

Johnny was frozen in place as was Simon who had just come around the corner to join them. 

“I was so ashamed that I had lost our baby that I never told you any of it because I couldn’t stand you hating me. And then Joey came and I loved the family we had built so much. He’s a great kid by the way, not that you’ve bothered to ask. And you left me alone with him when I didn’t know what I was doing. You made that choice. I didn’t think I was going to survive losing you. At one point I was so sure I would give him up because he deserved so much more than me. But I survived it all and I raised him to be kind and brave and honest because those were all the things that made me love his father. They were all the things his step-dad was too. But the two of you lied the whole time.”

You were crying you knew, so angry and hurt that everything was spilling over. 

“Get out. Both of you.”

“Princess…”

“Bonnie…”

“Get the fuck out!”

You didn’t look at them as they left. You didn’t have it figured out yet, but you had survived worse than this and you would continue to survive. Now you just had to get your head back on straight and go get the one person in this situation who had done nothing to cause it and deserved every answer that he wanted. If you had to live the rest of your life with an irreparably broken heart then so be it, you weren’t the one that mattered here.

[hippolotamus]

Who would I be if I didn't come barreling in with queer feelings??? Inspired by this post from my wife @bidisasterevankinard, this morning's therapy session and a few too many listens to Cleopatra by The Lumineers 😘

late for this, late for that | 7x06 coda | 757 words | G

“Not late. Right on time,” Evan sighs, content and sated, turning in his arms so they’re back-to-chest. It allows him to settle into his newly discovered love of being the little spoon. And Tommy’s new found love of indulging Evan.

“Good to know.” He presses a kiss into Evan’s mussed, disheveled curls, chuckling at the light snores his – boyfriend? Date? Guy he’s seeing? – is already making. 

If he’s being honest, ‘right on time’ is the furthest thing from what he feels. Evan hasn’t said as much, but Tommy suspects he’s started to question things about himself. About his life in general, past interactions, romances, friendships, crushes. Eventually he’ll likely face one of the biggest, if not the biggest, questions. How could I not know? 

As someone who went on a similar journey, he’ll do his best to guide Evan through. He wants to wave the proverbial magic wand to produce easy, matter-of-fact answers and soothe any wounds, but Evan will have to do that part on his own. Eventually it becomes a rewarding experience, making those discoveries, but he knows as well as anyone that it can be a bitch of a road to travel. An often dark pathway loaded with unexpected landmines. Full of monsters that go ‘boo’ at the very worst times, usually just when the dust of the last jumpscare has settled. 

Not for the first time – and likely not for the last – the notion makes Tommy wish they could have met earlier. That he could somehow turn back the clock to meet himself earlier so he could be there for Evan. He’s already put himself through the wringer, in therapy and in his own mental torture chamber, about why he lied for so long about who he is. But, as his therapist reminds him over and over again, these things are never truly done. There are often new layers unveiled, triggered by different circumstances. Sometimes big and loud, sometimes ordinary and everyday. Tommy thinks Evan might be a bit of both. 

Either way, here he is, wondering how his own life might have been different if he hadn’t denied himself for so long. If he could have been brave like Hen and said ‘this is who I am’. Because it’s not as if he didn’t know. Tommy knew exactly who he was, who he is. He’s known since the first time he kissed CJ, his high school football team’s defensive tackle, behind the bleachers after practice one late summer night. God knows he had been questioning for a hell of a lot longer. 

However, he can’t time travel and change things. He can’t give past versions of himself options that didn’t exist. Well, technically they did, but it meant blowing up his entire life and being ostracized. While Hen didn’t have anything to lose, because she was already being isolated by that era of the 118, Tommy did. 

He had what he thought were friends, though, really, most of them were alliances. People he accepted as friends for the high cost of burying his identity. Paid for with girlfriends and the occasional male sex worker when he really needed to let go. With living an empty, lonely, fraudulent existence, constantly saying no to the things and experiences he craved. Because saying yes - to ‘just one’ gay club, one pride event, one secret boyfriend willing to be called girlfriend for appearances - meant risking being found out. Meant taking a wrecking ball to the carefully curated macho persona he’d built for protection. Meant having all of his ‘meaningful’ supports and relationships ripped away. It was bad enough that his own parents couldn’t be there for him. He didn’t need the camaraderie of firefighting taken away, too. 

Evan snorts and snuffles, pulling Tommy back to the present. He turns in his sleep, somehow burrowing closer as he throws an arm across Tommy’s waist. His mouth is slack and parted, breathing calm and even. 

A wave of fondness washes over Tommy as he watches his… Evan sleep, blissfully unaware of all the things tumbling around in his brain. It’s an emotion he hasn’t felt in a while, not like this, but he’s grateful for how naturally it seems to want to return. 

Maybe they couldn’t meet earlier or change their histories, save themselves or each other from pain. But they’re here now with their combined battle scars, ready for something, whatever that looks like. And isn’t that better than never? So, perhaps what Evan said was true. Maybe he’s not too late and they’re right on time. 

part 2 (Eddie's POV) here