#if only I was single back then I would be UNSTOPPABLE

[rosicheeks]

your smoking video is fun!

your laugh/giggle is so cute!

you are adorable!

[astonmartinii]

but daddy i love him [guilty as sin part two] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

when an unstoppable force (the sainz men when they feel aggrieved) meets an immovable object (charles and y/n)

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 783,409 others

carlossainz55: never forget where you came from

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user100: insert cricket noises here

user101: who on your PR team said this was a good idea?

user102: they need to be fired, sorry not sorry

landonorris: i love your dad (tell him to stop beating me at golf)

carlossainz55: if he never lets me win he's definitely never letting you win

landonorris: so unfair i thought i was the third sainz sibling :(

carlossainz55: i'm an only child

landonorris: oh-

user103: i need this man to choke i'm being so serious rn

user104: that's so unbelievably fucked

user105: the fact his dad is probably co-signing this shit is insane that's YOUR DAUGHTER

user106: also someone give lando a lil slap around he's on the wrong side of history on this one

yourusername: scandal does funny things to pride

carlossainz55: if the scandal is betraying your family that's all you

yourusername: if we're talking about betrayal then that's your specialist subject mr. i've cheated on every girl i've ever been with - and while we're on the topic of betrayal, yes i was the one who told them

carlossainz55: i've never cheated why are you stooping to lies?

yourusername: you did it right in front of my face when i was a part of this family

carlossainz55: so you've always been comfortable going behind my back

yourusername: that's the thing, when you're treated like you don't exist by your family you learn that blood is not thicker than water

carlossainz55: i can't wait for charles to cheat on you

yourusername: btw i already called marca, they know any of those allegations from you or dad are false - good luck!

user10: obvs i know they should be doing this in private but MORE DRAMA FOR ME BABY LETS KEEP THIS GOING

user107: thank you for the validation y/n i KNEW THE SHIT STIRRING COMING FROM THAT PAPER WAS THE SAINZ CAMP

user108: and they've got the nerve to be talking about stooping - the call is coming from inside the house

maxverstappen1: ugly twins

carlossainz55: really?

maxverstappen1: i said what i said and i mean what i said

carlossainz55: i would say she's not going to fuck you bro but you really never know with her

maxverstappen1: she would never, homewrecking is a trait only the male sainzs seem to have

user109: OOP

user110: max is a real lestappen queen fighting the battles he knows charles can't

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,405 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: if you know within one glimpse, its legendary

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user114: i love how she goes from fighting her brother in one comment section to just showing off her hot bf

user115: tbf charles does have a face you'd go to war for so i get her

user116: i'd abandon my family for that face

yourusername: finally someone who fucking gets it

charles_leclerc: you made me believe in love at first sight

yourusername: awwwwww you're such a sweet talker the REAL smooth operator

pierregasly: i can verify it was love at first sight cause the man did not SHUT THE FUCK UP about you well... ever

charles_leclerc: is it a crime to love my girlfriend?

pierregasly: apparently!

yourusername: he's too cute to go to jail :(

charles_leclerc: they'd ruin me

yourusername: that's my job 🤨

pierregasly: you keep that to yourselves

user117: does this girl need to shade carlos on every single fucking post... yeah we get it he's the only reason you're relevant but god you reek of desperation

oscarpiastri: is this carlos' burner account?

user118: are the grid just sat around waiting to be tagged in to the fight against carlos?

oscarpiastri: what's he going to do? crash into me? he does that every weekend anyway

user119: uh oh carlos oscar is finally fighting back off track what are you going to do

user120: don't worry i'm sure he'll post a selfie with lando and try the whole carlando shtick to get some more PR points

maxverstappen1: oh this was not the shit slinging post i was hoping for

yourusername: something tells me you're having way too much fun with this

maxverstappen1: yeah you might have been abandoned by your family but have YOU considered that this is letting me express all my mean girl energy off track so i am level-headed on track

maxverstappen1: actually i don't even think i'm being mean tbf

yourusername: i'm glad my suffering could be your therapy

carlossainz55: BOO HOO you're not suffering ... it's something called the consequences of your actions (read: actions being a snakey slut)

yourusername: bro over here acting like i committed fratricide

maxverstappen1: TAP ME IN

maxverstappen1: not this man talking about the consequences of actions. kids, here's a little life lesson: if you spend all your time at your current job talking about how you have a much better job waiting for you and how you're too big for this job and plant stories about your co-workers, you can't be surprised that that same job doesn't want to keep you

carlossainz55: i am better than charles

yourusername: lying is a sin

maxverstappen1: and you're going straight to hell

user121: you guys might be mourning the loss of charlos (whatever the fuck that is) but i'm celebrating the absolute shit ton of LESTAPPEN we're getting

user122: max was like oh my bff is dating charles here's my excuse to be nice about him again

user123: if we're being real here the biggest crime of this whole situation is the fact that charles can't really dig the knife in

user124: @ silvia i have maybe £4.50 and a greggs sausage roll to my name but PLEASE LET CHARLES TAP IN

f1

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,298,006 others

tagged: oscarpiastri & carlossainz55

f1: f1... the sport that gives you just as much drama off track as we do on track!

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user125: at this point even before the whole carlos ousting his sister i think oscar was about 👌🏻 this close to rocking carlos nascar style we should let him do it

user126: i will personally pay his legal fees tbh

oscarpiastri: i'm only 23 i don't need two F1-related legal cases to my name

yourusername: i've watched legally blonde about ten billion times let me represent you

oscarpiastri: yeah sounds legit

user127: THAT'S IT WE NEED PROXIMITY CHAT IN F1

user128: the way we know there was a shit talking session like no other after this race

maxverstappen1: i don't kiss and tell but well - yes!

user128: okay since this is clearly a safe space... who was there please spill mr. verstappen

maxverstappen1: ME! charles, pierre, oscar, checo, alex and george!

user128: why the fuck were the last two there?

georgerussell63: i was on official GDPA duty 🤓

alexalbon: that's a lie we're just very nosey

yourusername: they're the biggest PTA moms ever don't even lie

georgerussell63: yes i'll make allergy friendly cupcakes for the bake sale but i'll also spit in them and gossip about your cheating husband - sorry about it!

alexalbon: he's not

georgerussell63: i'm not

user129: carlos slagging off y/n but she's really brought the grid together

user130: george and alex being like we do not care about that but we do want the latest scoop

alexalbon: oh don't get it twisted we're firmly team y/n

user131: we even got the f1 admin in on the drama

carlossainz55: she's probably fucking them as well

yourusername: BORING get a new bit babe

carlossainz55: if i see whore i'm going to say whore

yourusername: aren't you still in that damn stewards office?

carlossainz55: tell your little lap dog to keep his front wing away from my car and maybe i wouldn't

oscarpiastri: suck my dick

yourusername: now that's true poetry

user132: oH!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 763,409 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, logansargent & oscarpiastri

yourusername: florida !!!!!!!!!!! is one hell of a drug. no seriously what is in the water here i keep picking up these little guys everywhere i go

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user135: she's really like i AM spanish and i will colonise this grid

user136: stealing all the lil cuties for her cause

oscarpiastri: proud to be a part of this weird little circus thing we've got going on

yourusername: oh dibs on ring master

logansargent: i feel like my name is written all over tight rope walking

yourusername: okay yes skinny legend

maxverstappen1: obvs we're a cruelty free circus so no lions but if there were lions, that's me babe

maxverstappen1: SOME people could learn... cough, cough trophy hunters

charles_leclerc: idk i'll just take the one where i can sit there and be pretty

yourusername: and you would be the best at it

oscarpiastri: which one does the least? i'll take that one

user137: bro can we slow the fuck down i was just getting over osc telling carlos to suck his dick now we're talking CIRCUS?

user138: for real couldn't it have at least been cabaret i wanna see ALL of that

charles_leclerc: 🤨

carlossainz55: i think a circus is a perfect way to describe your desperate attempt to stay relevant

yourusername: don't you have a job to go to? oh wait...

carlossainz55: as if i'm threatened by a group with the likes of logan sargent in it

logansargent: bit harsh, i'm a nice guy (unlike some)

yourusername: carlos here's a little bit of a wild thing i'm about to introduce to you.... people have friends?

yourusername: also you WISH you had a face card like logie

carlossainz55: i have friends?

yourusername: no you have PR strategies, there's a difference

carlossainz55: bro learnt the word PR and ran with it

yourusername: tell me one person who would let you crash on their couch?

yourusername: QUICKLY.

fernandoalo_oficial: and don't even think about mentioning me

user139: she hit him with the bianca del rio

user140: OOP and also nando just popping up out of nowhere to diss carlos and never say anything again

charles_leclerc: the drug in question being puppy fever

maxverstappen1: tell me you didn't get a dog

yourusername: boy do i have news for you

carlossainz55: are you trying to baby trap him

yourusername: first woman in history to birth a dog you heard it here first

charles_leclerc: you simply can't be babytrapped when you would literally jump off a bridge if asked to

user141: @myboyfriend TAKE NOTES HONEY ^^^

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,745,093 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: two kids in one month? someone stop us

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user142: y/n really lost an apartment and a brother and gained about 27 f1 drivers and a dog

user143: glow up of the century some might say

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername: soz it's a coping mechanism

charles_leclerc: and that's okay <3

maxverstappen1: anything to help with that emotional CONSTIPATION

yourusername: have you tried to live with those narcissistic and emotionally unavailable men?

maxverstappen1: you're asking the wrong person that question honey

yourusername: girl are WE good?

maxverstappen1: no

yourusername: BUT THAT'S OKAY

charles_leclerc: not to rain on this parade but i think therapy would really be a positive move here

user144: i feel bad for charles cause i know these hoes are the type to just tell each other EXACTLYYYYY when they make poor decisions

maxverstappen1: true, no smart bitches would let their bff live with THAT man

yourusername: and let their bff constantly chat shit and ruin their image

maxverstappen1: can't ruin my image if i'm spitting FACTS

user145: max will nawt let this go

maxverstappen1: i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived

yourusername: GIRL

maxverstappen1: whoops, one sec. spoiler alert: y/n unleased poetry. trigger warning: c*rlos s*inz

olliebearman: ollie bearman erasure

charles_leclerc: GASP OLLIE I AM SO SORRY

yourusername: no he actually is he's crying

charles_leclerc: it's the pregnancy hormones

olliebearman: it's okay i swear

charles_leclerc: I'M A TERRIBLE FATHER

carlossainz55: i could've told you that for free

olliebearman: why are you in our family buisness

user146: charles is channelling all of his carlos rage through ollie oh my

olliebearman: i am a happy conduit for my father who is in the ferrari PR jail

yourusername: can we send carlos here and throw away the key?

user147: charles is really out there like keep my girl's name out of your mouth cause even the bitch who stole your seat for a weekend is my SON

user148: y/n wasn't joking about with this grid domination

user149: but also i'm glad all of this fun stuff is happening amongst all of the shit that's been thrown at her from her family

oscarpiastri: a leclerc and proud (i race like my dad and throw shade like my mum)

yourusername: the best way to be

charles_leclerc: proud of you, you're such a good dog brother :)

oscarpiastri: i've just learnt to be patient after alpine and lando

yourusername: you still took your shoes being leo's personal bathroom really well

oscarpiastri: he's too cute to be mad at

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc and 824,109 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: first mother's day with my boys

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user150: gonna enjoy this super wholesome post before... he... ruins it

user151: manifesting a y/n post without that bitter old hag in the comment section

charles_leclerc: the best mother for our fur baby and our miscellaneous other children

yourusername: only the best with you :(

charles_leclerc: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: i love you even more

user152: they're so fucking cute

user153: damn carlos i too would be angry if my baby sister and my teammate outshined my third PR relationship in six months

user154: the sainz family have generational levels of hating, but one does it for good (poetry) and one does it for bad (anything carlos ever says)

oscarpiastri: happiest mother's day to my grid mum! here's to reading them to filth xx

yourusername: OSC!! i always knew you were my favourite aussie

danielricciardo: did my enchante PR mean nothing?

yourusername: i mean i wear it all of the time... but it's osc ...

danielricciardo: true, i broke my hand before i could even think of accidentally hurting him

user155: also babe is looking so unbothered, moisturised and free we need the skin care routine

oscarpiastri: the tears of carlos sainz

yourusername: and cleansing your life of toxic family members

user156: okay clearly oscar was done with the whole "i'm so chill" bit cause since his adoption by charles and y/n he's been non stop on carlos' neck

oscarpiastri: i'm a ride or die for my mum cry about it

maxverstappen1: as the kids would say ... mother is mothering? @olliebearman did i do it right?

charles_leclerc: stop trying to steal my kids

maxverstappen1: BRO I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOUR GIRLFRIEND

charles_leclerc: that's literally my job 🤨

yourusername: tbf i'll take as many compliments as i can

charles_leclerc: are mine not enough?

yourusername: when you've got a self esteem this low, you gotta take what you can get

charles_leclerc: oh :(

user157: max and y/n fighting over who trauma dumps more about their upbringing

carlossainz55: this bit is very tiring. you'll be a terrible mother and all these people you think are your friends will drop you as soon as they know who you really are.

yourusername: you done?

carlossainz55: as you loveeeee to point out, i don't have much to lose anymore so i really wouldn't test me

yourusername: trying to make me homeless and stealing all of my money wasn't enough?

carlossainz55: charles will know the truth soon enough and you won't have us to come crying to

yourusername: i'll take those chances thank you

user158: hold ON what do you mean stole all her money

yourusername: i was never allowed my own bank account so all my earnings have gone to them!

user159: okay that's it WE RIDE AT DAWN

fin.

note: oh girl life has been BUSY!!! i just got a new job and have been looking desperately for a flat to move out to. also i've had family visiting and going here, there and everywhere. but i hope you enjoy! this was a lil more light-hearted lol (until the end) so enjoy the addition of the leclerc family lore xx

ALSO i wanted to say a massive THANK YOU FOR 6,000 FOLLOWERS love you all <3

note: hiii extra note from me here. first, i will fix this tag list at some point idk why it's not working rn. secondly, i have been made aware by multiple people that there is a series just like this one down to characters and the name of the series on here and i can't lie i'm bummed about it. as i said on the first part (?) this is an idea i've had since the release of TTPD (and people will back me up on this) so it bums me out that there are blatant copies coming out! i'm all for inspiration but sometimes there's a difference between taking inspo and copying especially when my masterlist was posted ages ago and my first part was posted on the 9th of may.... anyways that's all i have to say! enjoy xx

taglist: in comments!

[majinbangus]

was tempted to write more of this idea of simon x single mom!reader. ty to @weemansoap for the meet cute idea. mention of past abuse/domestic violence in one paragraph, nothing graphic.

-> more here

There's a young lad that can't be more than five or six years of age crouched behind the overgrown bush near the entryway that leads to his flat complex. A strange sight to come home to after months away on deployment. One he's not sure what to make of yet, but Simon approaches, coming up on the kid's blindspot. He doesn't see any parents around. Best find out what this kid is up to.

"Oi, what're you doin' out 'ere, lad?"

The kid startles comedically, nearly falling on his rump, but he manages to catch himself before looking up at Simon, a toothy, mischievous grin on his face. "I'm gonna scare Mama!"

Simon raises an eyebrow. "Your mum doesn't know you're here?"

"No." The boy giggles. "I ran ahead while she was putting on her shoes."

"You shouldn't do that," Simon says, though not quite admonishing him. "You probably scared your mum enough pulling that stunt."

The lad frowns. "I only ran away. What's so scary about that?"

A lot of things. Simon remembers his own mother frantically calling out his name once upon a time. The fear in her eyes. The trembling grip when she finally found him again. The sobbing. The apologies. The promises to be a better mother. The pain she experienced when his father blamed her for losing track of a son he didn't care about. Pain that was Simon's fault. Pain that his father later inflicted on him.

Lots of things are scary when a child runs away. But this lad doesn't need to know the extent.

"Your mum loves you, yeah?" He waits until the kid nods, continuing, "Then it'll always scare her when you runaway. Not knowing where you are. Thinking she lost you. Would it scare you if you lost her?"

"Oh..." The kid looks at the ground, penitent. "I didn't think of it that way."

Simon grunts, studying the lad, debating with himself before deciding fuck it. He clicks his tongue twice and the lad looks up. "Which floor you live on, mate? I'll bring you back to your mum."

"3C."

Simon hums thoughtfully. That one was previously vacant last time he was here. "Right next to me."

The lad perks up. "Really?"

He nods, gesturing towards the building, ready to guide the kid back home, but a voice suddenly rings out like a shock of ice water running down his back.

"Simon, you stay right there, young man!"

For a brief- very brief- second, Simon tenses up. He hasn't heard that angry motherly tone stemmed from fear directed at him since he was a boy. Part of him feels reprimanded, as if he needs to bow his head and meekly apologize for upsetting his mother, fleeting memories of his mum scolding him flashing through his brain. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he sees you, frazzled and anxious, running towards him like an unstoppable force that reminds him of the ocean wind.

It's a stunning sight, Simon notes absently; however, he doesn't take any longer to admire the view you make running towards him. Or, well, the boy. Rather than looking at Simon, you're looking at the lad he's been talking to, a wild, worried look in your eyes the closer you get, glancing at Simon quickly, warily, then back at the boy, the look of a mother bear ready to defend her cub gracing your features, and that's when it clicks.

Ah. Simon.

Your boy's name is Simon.

Funny, that. It almost makes him snort.

The lad in question doesn't seem to register your near feral state, but Simon steps away from your wayward son as to not aggravate you any further.

"Mama, I made a friend!" Your son announces proudly once you rush up to them. "He lives next to us! In, um..."

"3A," Simon interjects when the kid falters. You glance at him in acknowledgment before turning back to your child.

"Oh? How sweet." You smile tightly at the lad, giving him a subtle once over for anything out of place, and reach out to gently tug him further away from Simon, crouching to pick him up. "It's good to make friends with the neighbors, honey, but you can't go running off like that. I was worried when you took off without warning."

The boy in your arms looks properly contrite, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around your neck, voice muffled as he apologizes, "I know. I'm sorry, Mama. I won't runaway ever again. Promise. The nice man told me you would be upset."

"Did he?" You look at Simon, gaze still guarded but there's a hint of something grateful in your eyes. "Well, he was right. I was upset, but as long as you keep your promise, you're forgiven."

His little name twin perks up, giggling and hugging you tighter. "I will! I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, hon." You give your son a tender look, pressing a kiss to his temple, but it drops once you look at Simon, studying him with a cautious look. You hesitate for a second longer before adjusting your hold on your boy then hold a hand out, giving him your name and your gratitude. "3A? Are you new? I haven't seen you around... Regardless, thank you for keeping an eye on this one. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble."

"I travel for work." He grips your hand and gives it a squeeze, "And he didn't. Your boy's a good lad. I'm Simon."

Your eyebrows lift, mouth dropping slightly agape and hand lingering in his perhaps a tad too long before you recover, letting go, and smile sweetly at your boy who stares up at him with wide, awed eyes. "My name is Simon, too!"

You don't make a sound, but Simon can see you shake with silent laughter, your eyes sparkling for the child in your arms. He catches your eye, and you tilt your head with a hopeful, doe-eyed look for him to indulge your boy a little longer.

Ah, what the hell.

"Really?" Simon raises a disbelieving brow. "Since when?"

"Since I was born!" The boy laughs and you shoot Simon a genuine smile. "You're funny, Simon."

Oh, Johnny could tell your boy just how funny he could really be. He can already hear the groan his sergeant would give.

Don't put the poor lad through that, LT.

He's not hearing any complaints, Johnny. The lad seems to appreciates his humor. And you do too from the looks of it.

"It's a fine name, innit?"

"Uh-huh! Mama named me!"

He switches to look at you. "That right?"

Your smile turns a hint shy under his attention, but you nod with a noncommittal hum, adding nothing more to the conversation. Instead, you start your own. An abrupt, obvious dismissal. "Well, sorry to hold you up, Simon, but we should get going. This Simon needs to go school supply shopping."

Your son pouts, but otherwise doesn't complain. Good lad.

"Say goodbye to," your eyes wash over him, darting up and down, properly taking him in, "Big Simon, Simon."

A rush of amusement passes through him. That's a new one. Not the worst thing he's ever heard, but certainly accurate. He might even like it.

Big Simon tilts his head, raising a brow, and immediately you fluster at the nickname you've given him, eyes widening and head ducking down so you don't have to look him in the eyes, but it's too late to take it back. Little Simon is already waving goodbye at him.

"Bye, Simon, it was nice to meet you!"

There's a flash, and for a moment, Simon sees another young lad waving at him in another mother's arms, another Riley's voice echoing in his ear, asking him when he's gonna settle down, but then they're gone in a blink and he's looking at you and Little Simon again.

It almost makes him pause, but Simon forces them out of his mind and focuses on you and the boy in your arms.

"Nice to meet you too, kid." He gestures to you next. "Be good for your mum. She's a lovely lady, and lovely ladies deserve the best, yeah?"

Your son agrees with an enthusiastic nod, but while he remains oblivious to your flustered state, Simon feels an unfamiliar sort of satisfaction when you stutter out your own goodbyes, leaving him to ponder on things he hasn't thought of in years.

Settle down, huh? That's not for him, but looking at you and your lad...

Simon can almost see the appeal in a domestic life.

-

wrote this kinda sleepy, idk how I feel about it hope its alright tho

[sytoran]

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[bueckers-sturniolo]

the alchemy.

paige x fem!teammate! reader

word count: 2k!

warnings: uhhh, cursing? literally one suggestive-ish comment, if i think of anymore ill come back and lyk!

authors note: HIIII! this is my first time ever writing anything whatsoever, and i can’t tell if i genuinely enjoy or really hate this. you gotta start somewhere though, right? 🤔🤔🤔

go read part two here!

this happens once every few lifetimes; these chemicals hit me like white wine…

you and paige were inseparable. it didn’t go unnoticed by fans, not by any means. you were a year younger than paige, you started playing for uconn her sophomore year. as soon as this was announced, paige followed you on everything, immediately commenting on any post the uconn instagram page made about you, commenting something along the lines of just saying your name in all caps with a bunch of emojis, or even, when she was feeling bold, “Theres our girl! 🤩🙌 (or, ‘my girl’ if she was feeling silly that day),” and even on your own, individual posts about yourself, she’d like and comment some form of encouragement or a subtle compliment just to hype you up, as she does the rest of the team.

she couldn’t deny her nearly unbearable attraction toward the minute she first had laid eyes on you. even if it was over a tiny screen. the first time she saw you was when geno had shown the team videos of you playing and explained to them who you are, where you’re from, what position you play, and all other things they should know. you were around 5’10, and you were a point guard. you had gotten a scholarship to uconn, and obviously, you took it up. the first time paige physically saw you play, she knew you two would become close. not only working together on the court, during games and practices, but also, off of the court.

and you guys did. by the time the season started, you were sure you guys were unstoppable. every practice, you guys were fully locked in, becoming an outstanding duo together. that is, until, she got a tibial plateau fracture. she sat out a whopping 19 games after her surgery, and it was sad to see. she was such a powerful player, and now one of your best friends. games and practices didn’t feel nearly as good without her, but she made you promise that you’d work everyday to improve your already very strong talent, to play for ‘the both of you,’ as she said. she’d come to practices, games, and even just to your personal training sessions to provide some form of support.

what if I told you I’m back? the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map; I havent come around in so long, but im coming back so strong.

as soon as paige was cleared by doctors to begin playing again, she worked several hours, every single day. she came back as a fucking beast. since the day she got cleared and started working her ass off, she earned the nickname ‘sniper’ from you. your nickname for her was ‘killer,’ which, is kinda where she got the idea for sniper. you both were very powerful point guards. every day since she came back, you were amazed by just how hard she was working to get back up to her already impressive level of skill. and as time went on, she got even better than before. from the wise words of your guys’ coach, geno, she literally ‘came back better than she was when she was named player of the year.’

so when I touch down, call the amateurs and cut ‘em from the team, ditch the clowns, get the crown. baby, im the one to beat. cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

one night, after a practice, you guys are sitting on your couch, scrolling on your phones in the living room of your apartment. she was over there often. you didn’t live in a dorm, but she did, so this is where you typically hung out. you didn’t get a dorm, for mainly one reason, living on campus is expensive. you personally thought that if you were gonna pay so much to live somewhere, might as well be somewhere bigger than the dorms at uconn. your parents somehow agreed, and helped you through paying for it your first few years. you’re now a junior, and paige is a senior. though, she was technically going into her junior year of playing basketball, but it was her last year as a uconn ‘student.’ over the past several months, it’s been…. flirty, to say the least. you’ve always been not ‘just friends,’ but, you never talked about it. it was just ‘normal’ to you guys. you had talked about to kk once, and the conversation didn’t really help. at all. not in the fucking slightest.

“well, i mean… yeah, we all notice it. she just…. acts so different around you…? it’s not a bad difference, per se… it’s just like, why the fuck is she so nice to you? she’s constantly like… on her knees praising you. it’s crazy, lowkey. but none of us wanna say that, so we kinda just have accepted it all season.” kk says, finally looking up from her phone at me, sitting on the edge of her bed, giving her a ‘please help me’ look.

i stare at her for a few seconds, then sigh. is it actually different? does she really do that, or is kk just exaggerating, like she always does?

“kk, i don’t- i don’t know, dude. i don’t notice it. it’s just- like-“ kk interrupts me, knowing i couldn’t find the words to explain what i was feeling, “normal to you?”

i nod, putting my face in my hands and letting out another sigh. “yeah, i get that. but, also… like, how do you not notice it? it’s like- remember that guy she said she had a crush on, like- 7 months ago or some shit?” she said, sighing.

“yeah, why?” i say, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion on where the fuck she could possibly be going with this.

“she literally flirted with you more than she flirted with him. then, she rejected him, and said there was ‘no reason behind it….’ is that not suspiscious to you? in that one picture of you guys and the weird ass dude she apparently liked, she’s leaning closer to you than she is him? does that not even slightly spark a tad bit of suspiscion?” kk says, getting frustrated that im not seeing her point here.

“i mean- no? i didn’t even notice it, kk.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “exactly my point,” kk says, sitting up to really try to get her point across. “she acts like she’s in love with you, and heaven forbid you notice it even slightly. i could name so many things that just, like- we have all noticed, and paige knows we’ve noticed. like, that time that one bitch was pushing you on the court the entire game, and paige eventually got pissed off and pushed her back off of you, then got a fucking technical foul over it…? or, how about when she gets drunk, she literally is all over you. like, hugging you, holding you, falling asleep on the couch with you literally on top of her? is that not somehow making you just use that little brain in your head?” kk says, and i just stare in thought. maybe she was right. maybe it is more than a close friendship.

you snap out of your thoughts as paige says your name, looking over at her. “yeah?” you say, trying to seem cool.

“are you okay? you just spaced out for like…. 10 minutes…” paige says, turning her phone off sitting her it down on her chest. “oh, yeah,” I say, chuckling. that’s fucking embarrassing, you thought. but why wouldn’t she notice it? she notices everything about you.

“y’know… you did really good today,” paige says smiling at you. you smile too, looking down at your hands, “thanks. you literally always do good, so. no point in boosting your ego any more than it already is.” you say, looking back up to meet her gaze.

“i call you killer for a reason, you know that, right? you’re fucking phenomenal.” and she meant it. you were a goddess, in her eyes. if there was any person closest to heaven on this earth. it’s you. everything about you. she couldn’t get enough of you, and if it was up to her, she’d show you just how perfect you are to her. you smile, shaking your head in disbelief. “you’re insane.”

“im literally complimenting you, idiot- how does this make me insane,” paige says, laughing. you shrug, shaking your head. “you know, you’re my bestfriend, right? like, the best, best-friend i’ve ever had? ” paige says, after a few seconds of silence. you look back up, your gaze softening, your big grin also softening into a sweet smile. kk was right, you thought. you knew what that was. you knew what she meant. she is in love.

hey, you. what if I told you we’re cool? that child’s play back in school is forgiven under my rule. i havent come around in so long, but I’m making a come-back to where I belong.

you sit in your room in silence, staring at the ceiling. you keep replaying things in your mind, things she’s said. things she’s done. you knew you liked girls, you knew you liked paige. but, at what cost? did your whole friendship form from the attraction you guys had from the start? was this random to her? were you guys ever going to talk about it? this whole situation is ridiculous. right now, paige is visiting her family in minnesota. you’ve met them before, and you loved her little brother, drew, like your own brother. he was precious to you. but, this time you didn’t go, you had to stay back and practice. which, sounds ridiculous to paige given that you’re already the best player in the world to her. but, you knew you’d been slacking on practicing and certain skills you were supposed to be good at. you didn’t want to let her down. or the team, of course. but, paige specifically.

these bloakes warm the benches, we’ve been on a winning streak. (s)he jokes that it’s heroin but this time with an ‘e.’

today, you guys had a game. you were always pretty hard on yourself, but, today was worse. paige noticed this, quickly. as she always does. right before halftime, you shoot a three. you make it, but, it still was kinda sloppy. not all of your shots were sloppy, of course. but, today you felt like shit and were on your period. you didn’t feel great, and you were pissed off that the girl guarding you was on your ass all damn game. the girl in question was no other than kate martin, who was always on your ass specifically, when you guys played iowa. it was infuriating, and not to mention that you kept getting fouls called on you by a ref who clearly doesn’t realize that kate won’t stay off of your case. as soon as half-time hits, you walk over to the bench, muttering a ‘holy fucking shit’ under your breath. you sit down, paige immediately following after you, sitting beside you.

“hey, killer…. it’s okay, i promise. you’re doing so, so good.” paige says, leaning closer to you trying to reassure you in a soft, gentle tone.

“doesnt feel like it.” you say, grumpily, grabbing your water and taking a drink of it. “i know, but hey,” she says, smiling. “you’re fuckin’ killing it. if it makes you feel any better, you scored and knocked her down because of how close she was to you, maybe she’ll back off. but…” she says, pausing. “do not get a tech because of her.” you look over at her, slowly nodding. “yeah, im trying. but, the next time she gets in my face, i’m knocking her to the fucking ground again.” you say, quietly. paige smiles, “no being too aggressive… i mean, yes, be aggressive. but, no techs.”

“yeah, yeah. okay, idiot face. i’ll try.” you say and paige smiles wider, shaking her head.

as the game continues, we’re up by a solid two points. youre now in the last 45 seconds of the game. iowa has the ball, clark scores a 3 on paige. of fucking course, you think.

kk gets the rebound, and we get the ball, finally. with now only 30 seconds left, you’re panicking. you’re losing by one damn point. geno calls a time out out to the ref, the ref granting him this and you all huddle over. paige leans over to you, mumbling a, “you’ve got this, killer. im leaving this up to you. you won’t let me down.” you smile, nodding. she smiles at you for a few seconds. she is so whipped, and it’s obvious. you’re addicting. you’re like heroin, but with a fucking ‘e,’ paige thinks.

shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads. beer sticking to the floor, cheers chanted, cause they said, “there was no chance, tryna be the greatest in the league.” where’s the trophy? (s)he just comes runnin’ over to me.

as the game resumes, the ball is passed to paige. 15 seconds. the time is ticking, so, so fast. paige does a pump fake, immediately passing the ball to you. you catch it, turning slightly so you can dribble around martin, who’s still on your ass. you nearly lose the ball. you’re wasting too much time time, you think. you glance up at the clock. 5 seconds. you try to think fast, then quickly preform a fake pass to paige, then as soon as kate turns her attention toward paige, you shoot directly behind the point the three-point line, and you make it. the buzzer sounds. you look over at the score counters, wondering if it’s able to be counted. they announce it is, and you feel like you’ve never been happier than in that damn moment. your entire team is screaming, all of the fans in the bleachers standing up and cheering. you place your hands on your knees, leaning down and panting while smiling. that’s when you see paige, her shirt is lifted up so her stomach is showing, still cheering. smiling ear to ear, she suddenly runs over to you from across the court. she hugs you, picking you up and spinning you around.

this type of shit only happens once every few lifetimes. who are you to deny your love for her any longer? who are you to fight the general chemistry between you two? who are you to fight the alchemy?

a/n: RAHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS ASS!!!! IF YOURE READING THIS RN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[barcaatthemoon]

heated || fridolina rolfo x reader ||

things start to boil over between you and frido after you transfer to barcelona.

minors dni, 18+, smut warning.

the world of women's football was absolutely buzzing as everybody waited to see where you'd go. frido knew where you wanted to go, and she could only hope that someone else would make a better offer. she couldn't stand to spend any more time with you than she had to. it had been years since you had been in the same league, but frido still recoiled at the sound of your name.

"mi amor, this is great! we are going to be unstoppable this season. aren't you so happy? i'm so happy! mi hermana is coming back!" mapi exclaimed. ingrid and frido watched the defender run and jump around the room. neither of them knew what was going on, not until the doors opened and you stepped through.

frido's face fell immediately. ingrid watched curiously as frido turned away from where everybody else was watching. you hadn't played for a spanish team in forever, having spent a lot of time in the wsl or in south american leagues when your normal club team stuff was finished. mapi and the other girls you knew on the team crowded around you happily, but frido made no moves towards you.

"didn't you play toge-," ingrid started.

"don't," frido interrupted. ingrid frowned, never having seen her friend react like this. she had no idea the trouble that would follow in the next few months. ingrid didn't know the emotional trouble that you'd cause, or the way that she'd get into fights with mapi about you.

it was never really anything that you did to frido personally that caused friction. mapi seemed to know something about what happened when you and frido were teammates, but she refused to tell ingrid. it drove the brunette crazy not knowing what was causing so many issues. she wanted to be there for both mapi and frido, but it seemed impossible. frido was adamant that you were nothing but trouble, and mapi just wanted ingrid to befriend you.

it took frido longer than she'd care to admit to notice the way her tension with you was affecting the team. the two of you were a dream match on paper, but you couldn't work together to save your lives. the coaches knew that your styles of play were naturally similar, and yet, every single time they tried to spark the connection, it ended horribly.

"can you pass the ball?" you weren't meant to be shouting, but this was the fourth time that frido's pass had gone wide. "where do you get off on calling me reckless while making passes like that? don't they teach you how to aim in sweden?"

"shut up!" frido yelled at you. the two of you were in each other's faces, and half the team wanted to just let you physically fight it out. however, at the sight of a balled fist, several girls were getting in between the two of you. mapi and irene pulled you back while caro and ingrid took care of frido.

"hey, you need to calm down," you heard ingrid say. frido just brushed her off as she stormed away. you could hear swedish explicitives, and a part of you wanted to laugh. "what is going on between the two of you?"

"it's almost always been like this," mapi said for you. you were apprehensive to speak with ingrid, who was definitely frido's friend. you were apprehensive to speak about your past with anybody who you didn't know from somewhere else before. all of them knew frido, and most likely frido's side of things, which you did not deem as accurate. "i swear it's like they woke up hating each other one day."

"it's not that simple," you grumbled. ingrid sighed as she sat down next to you on the grass. "why don't you go ask your friend what happened?"

"because she shuts down every single time that i do. whatever happened, you both need to either put it aside or work past it because we need you guys to work on the pitch. stop being so selfish and act like teammates because that's what you are." you had never been scolded like that before. you glanced at mapi for help, but she seemed to agree with ingrid on this one. you sighed, knowing that you weren't going to find any way out of this.

"fine, i'll be the bigger person and put this past me," you agreed. ingrid seemed thankful for that, and mapi finally helped you up off of the ground.

…

somehow, ignoring your issues with frido worked surprisingly well. neither of you tried for conversation or anything of the sort, but you worked well on the pitch together. there were flashes of how things had been before your relationship had gotten all fucked up. it was shades of your youth, back when things felt a lot simpler.

"oh my fucking god, what is your problem today?" you yelled at frido. this had to be the fifth bad tackle that she had made towards you during the scrimmage game. this one was worse than the others, and the moment you got up, you were shoving the blonde.

"get your hands off of me!" frido shouted back. almost immediately, a whistle was blown and both of you were ordered to get off of the field. you stormed off first and went straight to the locker room to clear your head. unfortunately for you, frido seemed to have the same idea.

"get the hell out of here, i was here first," you told her. you weren't yelling, but your voice was stern. frido would have been impressed at the backbone you had finally grown if it weren't for the fact that the sight of your face made her stomach churn. she routinely told herself that it was just hatred, but the flashes of your face that came across her mind when she touched herself spelled something else.

"technically, i joined the team long before you did. why would you even come here? you knew that's where i was," frido questioned. it was a good question, and you had contemplated going elsewhere, but barcelona was where you had always wanted to be. it was supposed to be easy to ignore frido, but that was proving to be nearly impossible. "you left before, why can't you leave again?"

"because i don't want to. this is my dream. i'm back in my home country, and i am happy. everything i've been through was to get here. just because you're here too doesn't mean i'll give it up," you told her. "you knew that this was where i wanted to go, why did you move here?"

frido clenched her jaw as she stared down at you. there was something behind her eyes that you recognized. it was the same look that you had seen years before, right before the two of you started your horrid little game of tearing each other to pieces. your paths hadn't crossed often, aside from a champion's league game here and there, which had almost always ended the same way.

today seemed to be no different. frido's hands gripped at your waist tightly as you guided her down onto one of the benches. you moved onto frido's lap as the two of you kissed each other. it was rough and messy, as if the months of being at each other's throats was finally being released.

"someone's gonna come check on us," frido mumbled against your lips. you laughed, knowing damn well that mapi would keep them away. she'd tease you relentlessly when you came out with the markings from frido's mouth and the firm press of her fingers into your skin, but she'd make sure you weren't interrupted.

"no they won't. we're not causing any sort of commotion. they don't care as long as we're quiet. how else would we have gotten away with this for so long?" frido realized that you had a point. your tension had gone unmentioned for the most part. the two of you had only ever been separated whenever you'd begun to get into legitimate arguments.

kissing frido feels familiar, even as it seems to get increasingly aggressive. she holds your hips in place as she begins to grind herself against your thigh. it's so obvious that frido is using you to get off, and it makes you feel a little sick in the pit of your stomach like it used to, but only because you realize how much you'd begun to miss her.

things were never supposed to be like this. you had been friends. the lines were always blurry, easily crossed before the freak out. you can't remember what started it, but you remember running off to madrid and mapi. you don't know what frido did, but you know that when you came back, she was gone. you had never been abandoned like that, and all of the love you had once felt for her was lost.

"please," frido whined in your ear. you don't know what exactly you felt for frido now, but it wasn't love. it was a far cry from it now, as your feelings had sat and festered for years. you could chalk it down to desire, occasionally bleeding into something else. you wanted frido in every way she was offering, and even a few that you knew she wouldn't. this was as close as you'd get until things got a little worse, and you knew it. until then, you were somewhat happy to let her use your body to get off. if anything, it was something small and simple that you could lord over her in a future argument. eventually, she'd get you back, but you were certain that you could hold off for a while longer.

[pedge-page]

Live a Little, Give a Little ... More [Part 2]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Live a Little Give a Little part 1

Summary: you've got one last stunt in you before you retire to have your baby--will your mystery Baby Daddy make a final appearance?

Warnings: Breeding kink, pregnancy, exhibition, groping, public sex, public teasing, dub con, manhandling, rape-esc situation that may be triggering, unprotected sex, creampie.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You keep waving to your camera even after it clicks off and stops recording. Leaning back in your streaming chair, you close your eyes. 

Well, you did exactly what you set out to do: gained a shit ton of views and earned a mega bonus from your subscribers, rating shooting up thanks to that little stunt you pulled a few months ago.

You peer down, drumming your fingers along the hefty bump that had grown in your belly since then. “Hope you’re a bit more responsible than me, kiddo,” you mumble, smiling softly as you stroke over with gentle fingers.

Getting pregnant was not exactly how you imagined achieving that feat.

In all honesty, the plan was never to fuck a stranger on a crowded train. You were on the pill, but STD and STIs were a thing, so the furthest you had genuinely planned with a few hand jobs and being groped by perverts. 

But the second you felt that man on you, felt his cock pulse in your legs, something else over took you. Your whole bodies shivers with excitement every time recalling that day. Trying to etch every single detail into your memory. His callused hands, the firm, broad chest and shoulders that easily could overpower you, his warm thick fingers dancing along your skin, the trace of his breath along the shell of your ear, each beautiful little grunt and groan echoing in your ear like a broken record. 

His massive fucking hung horse cock.

You’ve been fucked by big-dicked guys before. But to know how to use it so fucking well that you don’t need to be battered to a pulp just to feel it, is something that no man can compare to your handsome baby Daddy.

Slickness pools in your panties. At some point, your belly is going to be big enough that you won’t be able to touch yourself. But for now, as your hand dips into your underwear and gathers your arousal, you think about him. 

If he was here now, would he make you cum on his fingers before you could have his cock buried to the hilt in you? Tell you that you’re a naughty girl, so fertile and sweet for the taking? A cum hungry dumb slut who doesn’t know how to function without his seed filling her up at every conceivable moment. Make you watch yourself in the mirror cum like a whore from his touch as he promises to breed and brand you over and over again for the world to see. You bite your lips, feeling him hot on your skin, balls twitching with each pulse of his seed dumping safely into your waiting womb to take him.

The thoughts of the faceless, nameless man who impregnated you on a crowded train during rush hour brings you to orgasm much quicker than any toy or method you’ve tested. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, a slight grin tugging on your lips as you rub your pussy through her little quakes, desperate to feel complete again.

You come down from your high, sticky fingers tracing along your belly as you drift into your current situation, ironically brought on by your insatiable horny lust.

No, you didn’t intend to have sex with a stranger that day. And when you weighed the odds in the nano-second before he impaled you… I mean, even if you got an infection, so what, just this once? What OnlyFans streamer didn’t have a disease or two? (No, please don’t take that advice)

You got tested immediately afterwards, and thankfully everything else came back negative from your fun encounter.

It only took a few more weeks after that of peculiar symptoms to get tested for something else that, to you genuine surprise, was positive. 

The man must have super sperm to have blown past your supposedly unstoppable birth control, which hadn’t even failed you when you did that 5 creampie amateur gang bang porno last summer.  Maybe you were only an hour late in taking your dosage on time that one day, too drunk and more concerned about fingering him cum back into you, but still…

You went into shock for a solid week, not sure what to do. Sometimes even now you feel a little jolt in your tummy, and see your body changing, and it just keeps dawning on you that you’re actually about to have a whole ass child.

And you don’t know the father.

It’s both thrilling and horrifying shook up in a bottle of hormones and currently sitting on the edge of a cliff. You should scold yourself for how stupid you were, if only you actually regretted it.  Even if you’re about to be a single mother who cant explain a thing to your soon to be child about their daddy, you knew you were gonna love you baby. No doubts.

Besides, when you were more financially stable, you DID plan to have kids at some point. So what if it’s a little sooner than expected? Life is full of unexpected surprises! 

You decided after the baby is born, no more streaming. You were gonna get a more stable, (more cloth required) job and raise your precious kiddo on your own.

But a few teasing streams until then, just to milk those breeding, misogynistic, baby bump hungry men out there willing to throw money at you if you rubbed milk over your belly, would be worth those extra bucks before calling it quits altogether.

Still, it would be nice feel him just one more time…

-

Joel’s been watching your stream obsessively since that day you brazenly showed your pregnant belly to the world. He’s got notifications going off on his phone every time you upload something. 

Even with his cock in his hand, most of the time you just talk to your followers, answer their questions about your pregnancy so far, and about that day.

He sees the way your eyes glint, the corner of your lips curving into an unashamed smile as you retell details about him.

Sure, all the lonely fucks in the chat spam your inbox “that’s so hot”, “god I wish that were me,” “can I use your holes and breed you next? My bus departs in 30 mins ;)”

Honestly, who’s to say you aren’t pulling a total bluff? You’re a porn streamer; it’s your job to feed into men like his fantasies. Maybe you had fucked a dozen guys on the train that day, got pregnant from one of them, and only uploaded Joel’s session because it was the hottest? Maybe you were already pregnant, and you’re just spinning a scandalous story for your followers to hold on to? And who’s to say you don’t already have a cuck boyfriend or husband, who could have been filming or watching you two on the train that day from a different angle?

The thought of you belonging to another man, of the baby you “claim” to his being another’s makes his hand grip his cock tightly, teeth grinding down on one another while staring at your beautiful eyes and smile through the computer screen.

He drops a pool of spit on to his tip before sheathing it over with his hand, lubing his cock. You would usually end the stream with some tease:

“God, my breasts are just getting so sore,” you groan dramatically. You unbutton your blouse and reveal your naked cleavage. “Don’t even have any more bras because they’re getting so damn heavy!” You cup them and moan into the camera, relieving the ache while pinching your nipples. 

Joel licks his lips. He had gotten to know you (or the version of you on your stream) a lot more intimately thanks to discovering your blog. He spent hours studying every detail that he missed. Its one thing to have dumped his load into your exquisite pussy, but to be able to see your face, hear your unashamed moans, ogle your gorgeous breasts and body that he had been denied that day makes him yearn to have you one more time.

Your belly had grown just as quickly, drooping over your pelvis just a bit more than before. You’re not at full mast yet. He watches how you maneuver, maybe a little slower or more bulky than before. It fills him with pride, seeing how much you’re having to struggle with his child growing in you. At the very least, you can still reach to get a bulbous pink dildo in your cunt and flash the camera as you masturbate, crying out as you beg Daddy to breed you again.

Joel cups his balls with one hand while the other furiously works over his shaft. His stomach tenses, building towards his release with eyes transfixed on the way that little cunt still has enough room to fit that toy. He would know, you took him with very little prep. 

“That’s it baby, come on, Come for Daddy,” he groans.  Doesn’t care that he’s jerking off in a dark room by himself to a brightly lit screen of his baby momma that doesn’t even know him. Yet. 

You moan directly into the camera, mouth agape as you thrust the dildo in and out, hitting that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling. You spread your legs over the chair, and the skin strewn across your belly tightens as a gush of liquid squirts out of your pussy.

“Fuck Daddy, making my pussy squirt so fuckin good! M so full my cunt can’t hold all my naughty juices, too full with your cock and your cum and your baby!!”

Haggard groans rumble in his throat as his cock erupts into jets of white ribbons, shooting along the computer screen and covering your face as you smile and lick the dildo clean. He milks his sack of the last little spurts of cum before sighing and leaning back against the chair, dreaming about painting your womb white again with his next load. 

When you come down from your high, and the last of the generous tips come flowing in, you usually rub along your swollen tummy. Sometimes it’s subconscious, like you’re comforting your child, other times it’s for the show, twirling around and pushing it out to show everyone how big you’ve gotten. Your voice centers him back to reality.

“And before I forget, I have one final announcement: After our little baby is born, I will be retiring.” You smile softly, but there’s a sense of gratitude mixed with sadness. “I know! It’s been such a great journey, and I’ve never felt soooo good about something as amazing as this, and to share it all with you is more than I could have ever hoped. So as a final send off, I’m doing one last exhibition piece.”

Joel leans, ignoring the stain of his cum drying along his shirt and smudged into his laptop.

 “If you’re out there, Daddio, I want to meet you. Catch me in the same area, around the same time—and no I’m not going to tell you all exactly where on here!  If you’re there, you’ll know—and if not, I will be streaming the whole thing live this time so don’t miss out! Even if I can’t find my blessing baby daddy, I will certainly still be putting on a show for however many lucky bastards get to grope a pregnant, single slut like me!”

-

You stand along the train platform, anxiously glancing over your shoulder at the random passersby just trying to catch a commute. Some men have definitely eyed you in less than innocent ways already. It’s a cest pool of perverts today. 

You contemplate the biggest hiccup in your plan: You know the only chance you have to recognize him is from feeling his huge dick splitting you open again. Cinderella slipper style, if you will. You didn’t have a name, an address, any identifiable features—you wouldn’t even be able to recognize his face if it were right in front of you given that you never really saw more than a blurred partial reflection of it in the first place. That monster cock is the only thing that you’re betting your life on right now to find him.

But for the safety of your baby—you had 0 plans to fuck anybody today. And I mean it this time.

The wind from the train tunnels keeps riling up your frilly dress, the fabric now fitting a little more snug than it did before thanks to your baby on the way. There’s a sense of excitement mixed with disappointment steaming in your flip flops. No, you had no hope of actually finding him again. 

 But who’s to say you can’t still have a little fun, touch some dicks, get your tits squeezed and call it a successful career?

Rush hour got a bit crazy, and boy were the men just as in a hurry. You bit your lip and smiled at a man who brushed by you, his hand happily squeezing your little ass cheek through your dress. He seemed young, thin, definitely not your man, but his long fingers did feel nice, caressing your hips as he grinned to you as well. Swaying your chest in front of him, he peers over your cleavage. The two of you waited along the platform, the crowd shifting awkwardly around you waiting for the train. You twiddled your hair, angling your phone up so it could capture his hand gently caressing your lower belly. 

His eyes widen in surprise: your bump wasn’t entirely obvious under the skirt of the dress, still small enough to be concealed under baggy clothing but very obvious the moment you feel it or pull the fabric tight. You giggle as he eagerly stroked over your belly, and you can barely see the twinkle of a fantasy forming behind those eyes.

The train followed forward a little too soon, and the man got on without another glance at you. Probably his wedding ring might have had something to do with it, but no matter. You remained where you were.

When the cart rushed past again, the wind blowing your dress, you caught the eye of a group of two behind you. You winked at them, lifting your skirt scandalously to show off your bare ass and wiggle at them, before enticing them to follow you behind the stairwell. 

You propped your phone up quickly, conveniently cutting off from the neck up to disguise their faces before they too rounded the corner. One was a bit shorter, dark haired, maybe around 40s with a full beard. His hands were all wrong, not your guy, but you didn’t deter him as he stroked along your cheek and down your cleavage, pulling the fabric of the dress tight to see your swollen tits. 

The other man, tall and muscular under that tight shirt, blond and younger, pressed firmly along your back, the outline of his cock making you rub your ass along his crotch. You quickly reached behind you and stroked his stiff bulge while they pinched your nipple through your dress, held the weight of your pregnant belly and brushed their knuckles along your inner thigh. 

Their faces didn’t matter. Maybe they were your fans, maybe they were just some lucky pervs at the right place at the right time. Either of them could be your mystery man, while neither could be too. You try to brush off your disappointment with a flirty laugh, stroking both of them through their trousers as they breathed in your perfume and continued to touch your body. No, their cocks were all wrong. It didn’t feel this rigid or this plump, his tip was more bulbous than this, and the curvature is in the opposite direction.

You glanced at your camera, making sure you’re getting good angles of your pronounced body sandwiched between these two creeps. They didn’t say much, thankfully, and you didn’t care to talk. Your feed was blowing up, with them none the wiser at behind recorded.  It’s not until you peep again at the screen that you see a third man entering the frame behind you. 

The other guys shift uncomfortably at his intrusion, but you look up at lucky perv number three. You don’t bat an eye when he boldly put his hand between your thighs and slid up along your skin, thick digits grazing your wet folds. You hum contently. Oh, he’s here for the cake. You try not to go hazy, eying the cheeky bastard while being stimulated all over.

 His height was between the other two but that didn’t make him any less imposing. Broad around the shoulders with a bit of a soft tummy, but his denim shirt hugged those biceps so well. And he’s older too, much older due to the wrinkles under his brown eyes and the grays starting to take over in his curled hair and patchy beard—

Your brows furrow for a second, not enough time to process your thoughts before he’s shoving the other two men aside despite their protests and walking you back against the tiled wall, your bum resting on the metal bar there. His torso parts your legs perfectly, and you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. He only grins, something very knowing behind that look, a secret you feel left out from, and you’re about to call it all off until he rolls that massive THANG between his legs against your uncovered core.

You moan out in surprise, your head falls forward on his chest. He growls something out to the other guys, who end up scurrying away with their palms pressed on their crotches like scared dogs. 

“L-Look, mister,” you say, and fuck you should be trying to fight this harder. Especially with the jangle of his belt coming undone between you. You don’t want some stranger fucking you—again—that defeats the whole purpose of the tease! You could still shout for help, there’s plenty of other people just around the corner if he tries anything funny. And your baby, your health, your safety— “I don’t —I’m not in the mood for anything—penetrative. But I could satisfy you in other ways,” you huff, dragging your lower lip between your teeth.

He smirks again. His breath is warm, so close to your face you could almost kiss him. He feels so strong yet so soft, holding you securely against him, his hand cradling your belly while his tented cock pressed along your clit. Your hearts racing, beating wildly that you don’t doubt he can’t feel it against his own. Maybe he’s considering it, something willing yet still satisfying. You feel drunk off him despite only sampling the scent of him, not the taste quite yet.

He holds your gaze with his curved nose honing yours. Its intimate.

Familiar.

You should protest at least a little when he flips you around and bends you over. He’s got one hand protectively over your belly, making sure you don’t fall into the wall. You glance up, and the sight of your body positioned perfectly centered at your camera. Fuck—he knew where the camera was? Was he a fan watching your stream before he came over? Your shocked expression fills the screen as his torso and hips press against your ass, yellow dress flipped over your hips for his private view.

Your mind is reeling, unaware of the thick slap of his length against your folds—that jolts your attention. You know that cock…

He thrusts in all at once.  No voice escapes your parted lips to convey the cross eyed, fantastic, unbelievable, one in a million stretch that you had been missing for months, now filling you up to the brim and suffocating every available micro meter inside of you, and making you whole again. The same stretch, the one that’s making you cum on his cock right now, flooding your senes as arousal electrifies every nerve in your body.

The man behind you only chuckles, still getting the perfect view of your gaping mouth and furled brows reflected on the phone scream. he hisses lowly between his teeth as you continue to clench around his cock with your sweet wet little cunt. It’s like scanning a membership, and your body finally recognizes the owner of the shop. You pant harshly into the bar, walls convulsing over his thick length buried deep to your occupied womb.

The man that had placated your mind, your pussy and womb for the last 6 months, the man who left the best gift you’d ever received, the man right here in the flesh, that you had almost considered a dream were it not for the growing swell of his child in your womb occupying your delirium…

He leans over you, just enough so that only his lips are visible at the top of the screen, his voice ghosting along your ear: “Hi babygirl. Missed you. Looks like you have a little surprise for Daddy.” You feel his bear palms caress your swollen tummy.

Your lips curl into a delirious smile, lashes fluttering in blissful patterns of love as your entire being welcomes this man into the home he’s already carved out of you.

Even your baby nestled small in your womb wiggles excitedly at the recognition of her Daddy.

Neither of you look away from another as he begins thrusting into you, rocking your body back and forth along his member like the toy you’re so good at being.

He was amazing—no, better than before if it’s possible. Impossibly hard, long, thick and throbbing, all shoved up your pussy with desperate ruts, impaling your soaking pussy over and over again. You had to remind yourself, still lost like a love sick puppy in his eyes, that you were still in public, being fucked raw, pregnant, behind the stairwell of a crowded train station during rush hour. Nosy chatter echoed through the tunnel as the two of you humped against one another, partially clothed minus your genitals connected in a haze of passionate fucking. The phone in front of you is only forgotten, and you can only imagine the comments and tips blowing up at the fact that you’d actually found him.

Despite the openness, the vulnerability of your position, it feels far more intimate, just the two of you fucking to your hearts content. You’ll wonder later about the wondering eyes from trains beginning to enter the station and seeing the two of you in the blurred windows , but right now, you’d be ready to take his second bastard child right this second. 

Your handsome hero reaches past you and turns the recording off, flipping the phone down. If he’s going to have you again, really have you, it would be his own little private show. No camera. No show. He abruptly pulls out before spinning you around and nestling himself between your thighs again, his cock aligning to your entrance before sliding right back in. Right where he belongs.

“Oooooh shiiiit. Shit Momma, you’re so good at taking it,” he rasps into your neck. He presses a wet kiss along your throat, each thrust pushing you back but he holds you close and sucks you right into his grasp again. Your open lips hover over one another as he sets his pace again, his tip now kissing your cervix with each kiss of your pregnant belly to his naval.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” He growls with an edge of desperation. “Tell me it’s mine.” Beads of sweat begin to form along the creases of his forehead, but he didn’t once consider slowing his pace. With the pay your ass jiggles at each slap of skin.

“It’s yours,” you cry. There’s no doubt. your heart screams with joy just as the knot in your stomach snaps. he grips your mouth with his strong hand as your head rolls in ecstasy, wailing out into his flesh with unfiltered moans.

Harsh breaths are forced out of his nose, his lips switching between a snarl and a grin as he nears his end. 

“Inside,” you hum into his ear.

He wasn’t planning on putting it anywhere else. With one final heave, he lifts you off the rail briefly, your weight balncing under his arms and your tiptoes on the ground as he bursts inside of you, painting your walls with his hot cream.

You both breathe in the polluted air. Distant echoes of the rafters rattling in the darkened caves ahead while footsteps rustle down the metal stairs behind the two of you. The breeze of the caverned tunnels cools the sweat along both your bodies. He hasn’t let go, still glued to you, holding you close as if you’d slip away.

You sit upright in his lap, trying to catch your breath. You survey one another, pupils blown wide yet calming. The two of you just giggle as your pants slowly sync together. His rough yet gentle fingertips stroke your cheek before brushing away the strands of messy hair that had covered your beautiful face, and for the first time, he can really get a full look at you in person.

“I’m Joel,” he says sweetly. He brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a gentle and long kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You shake your head and laugh, offering your name to him as well.

Although, at this point, with his cock still impaled deep inside, his baby growing in your womb— its safe to say the two of you are well past such a redundant formality.

-----

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[nina-ya]

you get hurt and luffy's mind flashes back to a certain moment in marineford

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

All Luffy could feel was cold, a numbing frost that clawed its way into his very bones, turning his entire being into ice.

In the blink of an eye you were standing strong fighting alongside him, and the next, you were stumbling towards him, hands clutching at your abdomen, fingers trembling as they tried- and failed- to dam the blood blooming between your fingers like cursed roses.

Blood.  So much blood.  Too much blood. 

The color was obscene, staining his world in crimson streaks that ran like rivers of guilt. His body froze, rigid as the shadow of death stretched its skeletal hand over his heart and ripped open the scar that lay there. And then his mind fractured. The present unraveled, dragging him back to that battlefield of loss, to the smoke-filled air and the weight of Ace in his arms. 

It was happening again. 

His trembling hands grasped at you, desperate to pull him out of the impending storm, but his grip was clumsy and weak against the memories that swallowed him whole. He couldn’t see you anymore- only Ace. Ace’s blood. Ace’s voice whispering final words. Ace’s fading heartbeat slipping through his fingers like grains of sand that he couldn’t hold onto. 

You saw it in his eyes; wide and glassy as if gazing into the abyss. He wasn’t there. Not with you. His soul had been dragged backward, shackled into a nightmare that he couldn’t escape. The terror etched into his features wasn’t for you. It was for someone he had already lost. 

“Luffy,” you whispered, voice cracking with pain. He didn’t respond, the sound lost to the screaming silence in his mind. “Luffy!” you tried again, louder this time, each word a lifeline thrown desperately in hopes of helping you both. 

Desperation clawed at you, drowning out whatever else you were feeling at that moment. Your hand, slicked with your own blood, reached for his face. The crimson smeared across his cheek was a cruel mimicry of the mark of a battle that neither of you had won. Your fingers pressed against his skin, forcing his gaze to meet yours and you saw the distant agony in his eyes- the ghosts of a past he couldn’t let go of. 

“This isn’t the same,” you rasped, the words tearing from your throat like shards of glass. “The pain in your chest made it hard to focus, but you pushed forward. “I’m still breathing. Luffy, Look at me!” 

For a single excruciating moment, he didn’t. He couldn't. But then your voice cut through the haze, the pain-laden scream of his name shattering the chains of memories past. His eyes flickered, frantic and wild as the present came rushing back. 

You. 

His chest heaved with a desperate breath as he clung to you, trembling hands pressing against the wound in a distressed attempt to hold you together. Blood seeped between his fingers, the heat of it searing his skin as though the very weight of your life was right beneath his fingertips. Tears began to fall, hot and unstoppable, carving rivers down his cheeks and landing on your face in tremoring droplets.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, his voice cracking under the weight of dozens of emotions attacking him on all fronts. “I’m so sorry. I won’t let you go. Please, I can’t lose you too.”

Each word was a plea filled with raw guilt and fear. His body trembled with each sob, the sound hurting you more than any physical wound could ever. 

You wanted to comfort him. To tell him it wasn’t his fault, but the pain was dragging you into a haze of blurred edges and throbbing fire. Your eyes fluttered shut for just a moment, but even in that haze, you knew- despite the agony in his heart, he would never let you go. 

Luffy couldn’t save Ace. But this time, he would save you.

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST

Unchained Melody (Part One)

Summary: It had been almost two years since you had become overwhelmed by motherhood, fleeing from both your husband and son in attempts to escape the suffocating blanket of worries and self-doubt that had enveloped you. With a life now filled with poverty, you scrimp and save every shilling, every penny to make the costly weekly journey to catch a glimpse of your son from afar at the market. But your usual Sunday trip back to Birmingham suddenly turns your life upside down for a second time when you are unexpectedly faced with the presence of your husband and his refusal to let you do anything but return to Arrow house, back to him and your son.

Warnings: Language, angst, smut, mutual pining, postpartum depression

Word count: 4993

Authors Note: This series is inspired by another oldie but goldie, "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers. Tommy's feelings will be heavily influenced by the lyrics of this melodic and timeless song throughout the story. The song Y/N sings to William is an old British classic called "I do like to be beside the seaside" .

"Calling at Birmingham New Street ladies and gentlemen, Birmingham New Street " the ticket conductor shouted walking briskly along the carriageway, going from coach to coach announcing the last and final call. One year, seven months and fifteen days. You thought to yourself picking at the frayed upholstered chair you was sitting on as a single solemn tear slipped over the curve of your cheek down into your lap, escaping the pools of your eyes too quickly for you to brush away. Not now Y/N. Don't start. You scolded yourself, not wanting to bring your fellow passengers' attention to your escaping emotions as you let yourself sink into the guilt you had been keeping tightly against your chest for almost two years, keeping it hidden from the vicious judgment and critical eyes it was undoubtedly worthy of as you did every Sunday you made the journey back to Birmingham, every Sunday you desperately tried to get a glimpse of your son from afar. Brushing the steady flow of tears from your face, you turned your head to the window, wiping the condensation that had built up on the tempered glass to see your reflection staring back at you, cruelly forcing you to see what you had become. Ragged clothing, unkempt hair and chapped hands, reddened from the countless hours you had worked night and day laundering linen for people that resembled your former self. You were unrecognisable, a far cry from the woman you once were, the wife and mother you once were. Broken and beaten, you were barely getting by with the hand life had dealt you. How had it come to this?

Nineteen and half months ago...

"He's crying darling. Y/N?" Tommy said, walking into the nursery after a relentless day in the city to find you in the rocking chair, aimlessly looking out the window as your son wailed loudly in your arms. You were starting to worry him. He'd been so occupied trying to make things legitimate for his new family that the long days he had spent with his head buried in paperwork were slowly turning into long sleepless nights stuck within the four walls of his office. The birth of his son had ignited an unstoppable force within him to keep the two people he loved the most safe and away from the wickedness of the world he himself played a role in, all at the behest and advice of those around him. He just had one more thing to do, one more thing to finalise, then he would stop. He'd promised himself.

"Tommy..." You muttered, blankly looking up at him as he took William from within your hold, the sudden quietness from his father's comforting warm arms snapping you out of your trance-like state. "He's hungry" you said as you picked up the small brown bear among all the various necessities needed to care for a child of only four months. "He just...he won't feed properly. Won't settle" you huffed, internally blaming yourself as you wiped the front of your blouse, reaching for your son, then suddenly recalling, afraid if you took him he'd start crying again. Was it you that unsettled him?

"He dropped his bear love, that's all. Maybe getting some teeth as well, ey little man?" Tommy said, looking at William as he tried to diffuse the criticism you were undoubtedly burdening yourself with. "Hey, c'mere" Tommy sighed, pulling you into his arms, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as tears welled in your eyes. You were slowly drifting away from him, he could feel it. But with Tommy being a man true to his time, he felt powerless as to what to do, what to say. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on. The British way...maybe the wrong way. You'd pull through, wouldn't you? "We'll fetch him some warm cow's milk or a wet nurse, so you can get some sleep"

"No. No Tommy!" You angered quickly at the mere suggestion of anyone but you feeding your son, determined to battle through whatever it was that had a grasp on you without aid. "You think I'm a bad mum, don't you? You think I can't look after him?" you sobbed, your temper and fatigue spilling over into an angry display of pointing fingers and high emotions. You knew you were being unfair, you just...you couldn't help it. You needed an outlet for your mounting frustration, and unfortunately for Tommy he had the unlucky pleasure of being at the receiving end of it.

"Darling, I never said..." Tommy huffed, before you took your son back into your arms and your position in the rocking chair, your eyes fixing on a small light in the distance beyond the grounds of Arrow House as Williams bottom lip wobbled and his whimpers resumed. What would he do without you? Tommy reflected, a sudden feeling of guilt washing over him for all the nights he had spent away as he watched you in admiration, humming a soothing tune to his son, your fingers stroking gently over the curve of his ear and massaging the soft cushioned lobe until his cries quietened and he fell asleep. You were just tired, the small surprise weekend away in Blackpool he had planned in a few days time for the three of you would see an end to your worries. Sea air and sandy beaches, just what any doctor would order. Then he'd stop, he'd try harder. He'd promised himself.

" Fuck baby...you feel so good" Tommy moaned against your ear, his labored breath hot against your skin. "Let me make you feel good eh?" He said breathlessly, sliding his finger down between you both as he pressed on the small bundle of nerves swollen from his thrusts. Just relax. You told yourself. And for the love of god, stop fucking thinking too much. You berated yourself once again as you closed your eyes, a feeling of guilt pooling in your stomach from the little attention and affection you had given your husband since the birth of your son. One month since you were last intimate, one full month since you had let him get close to you. Had he been with someone else? Your brain quickly panicked at the thought of him with another woman when a hard thrust from Tommy had you moaning into his shoulder, your hands threading through his soft hair as he kissed down your neck sending a ripple of goosebumps over your body.

"Wait...Tommy not there" you pulled his head up as his tongue swiped over your nipple. "Shit" you huffed as a trickle of milk flowed down your cleavage whilst you frantically scrambled for the freshly laundered sheets to wipe away your embarrassment.

"Y/N, darling, it's ok" Tommy chuckled, kissing tenderly around your swollen breast as he rocked his hips into you, his thrusts suddenly intensifying when his eyes darted down to between you both. "Stop. Let me see you" he said, pushing your self-conscious hands away from shielding your stomach from the small scars you bared from nine months of carrying his child. " Fuck sweetheart...look at you" He moaned watching himself drive in and out of you, his wet length glistening, the sight sending a surge of pleasure through his throbbing cock. He's so into it. Why? Was he just saying these things, was he thinking of another woman? Your mind plagued you as you reluctantly kept your hands by your side. You felt like shit, looked worse than shit. That and your mind was elsewhere, to a never ending timetable of feeds and nappy changes you seemed incapable of getting right. As the room filled with the moans of your husband and the sound of his body basking in the awaited comfort of you he'd been patiently longing for, your eyes drifted over his lean shoulders to your suitcase covered by the netted curtains of your grand bedroom window. With the sudden fear that you had already made your decision, you turned your head to your husband, crashing your lips onto his as you held tightly onto his broad frame. Would this be the last time? The last time you felt the weight of his body on top of yours?

"Tommy..." you whimpered, a tear falling down the side of your cheek, desperate to tell him how much you were struggling as he gasped at your sudden eagerness, unaware of your inner turmoil in the throes of his own pleasure as a surge of electricity fueled by adoration pumped through his body, his imminent high quickly approaching. With every part of you clutching onto him, tightly clenching you both to a daze of heightened arousal, you let go, loudly crying your husband's name.

" Fuck...i'm gonna, Y/N I'm..." Tommy moaned incoherently into the curve of your neck as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh and his hips came to a sudden stop, releasing the built up tension he had been desperate to be rid of inside the tight warmth of your body with a shaky groan leaving his lips. "We've still got it eh?" Tommy chuckled breathlessly moments later as he settled down beside you, pulling you into his strong hold.

"Still" you replied quietly as you turned your head to look at him." I love you" you said longingly, your voice catching in your throat as you buried your face into his chest, hiding the shame in your eyes of the choice you knew you had made.

" I love you too. Y/N what's..." He said, tilting your chin up to look at him, cutting his words off and what he really wanted to ask, as the glazed over look in your eyes sent an uncomfortable heavy feeling of worry to the pit of his stomach. The far-away look in your eyes frightening him more than any enemy he had ever come up against. You were just tired, he'd call Polly tomorrow morning to come and help you with the baby. Tommy reassured himself as he held you tightly in his arms, his hand cupping the side of your head as he pressed a yearning kiss to your temple. This weekend would fix everything.

" Y/N...baby's crying..." Tommy mumbled half asleep as he rolled over, so used to you being the first to bolt up and hurry to your sons' whimpers. A dairy cow in human form, a living comforter to aid your son to sleep. You couldn't help but feel as you rubbed the fatigue from your dry eyes, another surge of guilt hurtling your way for thinking such things.

"Shhh darling, mummy's here" you said flatly as you approached his bassinet, picking him up and cradling him in your arms. "Please William, please stop crying. I'm so tired, I'm..." you sobbed, caressing his soft skin as you placed the tip of your finger to his mouth for him to suckle on. "What do I do? Help me William" you cried quietly in desperation, rocking him back and forth in your arms as you looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face, your mind absent from the fact you were doing it, you were doing everything any mother would do in an attempt to soothe their child. Why couldn't you see it? "I don't know what's wrong with me" you sobbed to yourself, sniffing away the tears as you looked down at your son, his finger holding tightly onto yours as Frances the housekeeper listened outside the nursery door, her hand firmly enclosed around the handle, every part of her wanting to enter and magic your distress away. The thousand yard stare, they called it. She had seen it with her sister after the birth of her niece and then she saw it with you, the moment Tommy returned to work, popping your little bubble of the three of you lying in bed blissfully happy within the comfort of one another. She'd talk to Tommy in the morning. She promised herself as she backed away from the door, and back to her duties. She promised.

"Oh I do like to be beside...the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea" you sang quietly, your bottom lip wobbling with each passing word. "I love you, I love you so much" you cried as you placed your son back into his cot, pulling out your handkerchief with your name embroidered delicately in the center for him to hold, hoping the scent of you engraved into the light fabric would comfort him in your absence." I'm sorry William, I...I can't be the mother you need " you sobbed as his little fingers clutched around the small piece of cotton. "Daddy will look after you, better than I can" you said as you bent down, placing a tender kiss to his head. "I just need a little break, a small one. I'll be back, I promise" Your voice broke, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gently glided your finger over his ear, caressing his soft skin and gently lulling him into sweet dreams and slumber. "Goodbye my love, my sweet, sweet boy" you cried, turning to the door and shutting it as a searing pain shot through your chest, through your shattered heart and the unbreakable bond a mother shares with her child, tearing and fraying from what you was about to do. Would you ever be able to come back from this?

"Come back to bed darling..." Tommy mumbled as you stood beside him, running your hands through the top of his hair, a quiet moan escaping his lips in response to your gentle touch as he lazily reached for your hand before his weighted eyes and tired body drifted him back into a heavy sleep.

"Soon Tommy..." You replied, muffling your sobs as you picked up your suitcase and turned to the door, glancing back one last time to your husband, to the love of your life. Meters away, it may as well have been miles. You thought to yourself as you came to the end of the long driveway of your home when the light of your son's bedroom suddenly turned on in the far distance and the loud call of your name from the depths of your husband's lungs resonated throughout the grounds. There was no going back now, it was done. They were better off without you.

Present day...

"Fuck sake" you mumbled quietly, hiding your face in your shoulder as you frantically wiped your tears away from the memory of the night when you abandoned your family and your former self. As you cursed yourself for being being so weak, so feeble, the small girl seated opposite you scrunched her brow in confusion, her little thoughts plagued with worry as to what had you so upset, as her mother, who looked as tired and weighed down with her own misgivings, sent you a sympathetic knowing smile.

"Hardly the time and place to let one's emotions get the better of them, this is public transport not a woman's bloody wash house" a man seated next to you clothed in the finest of suits grumbled rolling his eyes, begrudging the fact the train was not divided by class when the engine suddenly came to a stop and the mother ushered her daughter out of the carriage giving the gentleman a stern look, all while her daughter conveniently stepped onto, rather than other the pompous man's foot dirtying his perfectly polished loathers. "The little..." He spat as he folded his newspaper in half, turning to face you as if you had a role in the small girls worthy retribution. "Thiefs, whores and murderers. What would one except from this dump they call the second-biggest city in England" he seethed looking at you from head to toe as you stood to leave when he crassly stuck his foot out, causing you to fall face first onto the grimy train floor as a satisfied scoff left his lips. You were nothing to him, a beggar, the scum of the slums of the city he reluctantly found himself in. With no will or want to confront him about what you believe you undoubtedly deserved, you stood up, wiping the front of your dress down and adjusting your hat with only one thing on your mind...your son.

" Excuse me...please, excuse me" you said, pushing your way through the bustling market. You were already late, and with only the briefest of opportunities to get a glimpse of your child until another full seven days passed, and he made his Sunday outing with Frances again, you were desperate to see him. Standing by a stall filled with seasonal fresh fruits and juices you adjusted your woven hat, pushing the knotted strands of hair behind your ears in attempt to make yourself look proper, more presentable. Who were you kidding, you were but a ghost in a crowd full of people. Your disheveled appearance your only shield and cover from any potential sightings of yourself that could be relayed back to your husband. If he cared to know. You thought to yourself as you raised your head, your breath suddenly catching in your throat. There he was, your William. Watching from a distance, you followed his small wobbly steps, his hand holding tightly onto France's as the sun beamed down on them, heading with determination to the market stall he made a beeline for every Sunday. Perching yourself on a large wooden barrel next to a shelf of neatly stacked bottles of cider, you smiled as your shaky fingers came up to cover the joy on your lips as your former housekeeper picked up your son and showed him all the various jars of sweets and lollipops his wondrous eyes were beaming at. "Barley Sugars" you whispered, a small laugh leaving your lips as he pointed to his favorite and only choice of sweets whilst Frances tried to coax him into trying something different, when a smartly dressed man stood beside them turned around. Tommy.

"Barley Sugars again, eh?" Tommy chuckled, nodding to the stallholder as he reached into his pocket for a penny, smiling lovingly at the boy that resembled you more with each passing day. Wha...what was he doing here? You panicked at the unexpected sight of your husband, the last time being the night you had left him sleeping soundly in your shared bed. With shaky legs and your panicked eyes darting frantically around the market for any of his men, you slid off the barrel stumbling backwards into the shelf of cider, causing a small commotion of crashing glass and spilled beverages.

"You'll 'av to pay for that, miss" The seller frowned, waving his finger at you as he came marching around his stall to your trembling body frantically picking up the shattered glass, apologising profusely for the days' takings and mess you had made. With unsteady feet you stood up, your eyes cast down at the muddied ground, unable to meet the piercing stare you could already feel boring into you with every stifled breath that left your lips.

"Y/N..." Tommy whispered as he steadied himself against the wooden frame of the market stand, his knees buckling, his eyes widening in disbelief as time and everything around him suddenly slowed to an abrupt stillness, his ears deafening him with a piercing high-pitched whistle. "Y/N" he voiced louder, as the sound of the teeming market entered his muffled eardrums and your sheepish eyes finally met his." Y/N" Tommy called your name again as he pushed through the crowds of people, his eyes fixed on you as you started walking backwards, tears welling in your eyes from the panic firmly setting in."Y/N Shelby!" His voiced boomed into the crisp spring air, gaining everyone's attention, his brisk pace turning into a quickened run as he stumbled past people in a frantic attempt to get to you. "No! Don't you dare!" He bellowed, fear tightening in his chest as he watched you turn and run out of the market when he misplaced his foot and fell forward, tripping over the curb of the path as the end of your dress glided behind the corner of the bricked wall and out of sight.

" Shit...shit!" You sobbed running through the cobbled streets as you scanned the neighborhood in a frenzy of labored breaths and hysterical cries for somewhere to hide. What was he doing here?

" Hey, hey!" Tommy said, turning the corner onto the street you had been on mere seconds ago as he grabbed the arm of a young boy running past him with a hoop and stick in his hand. "Have you...have you seen a girl, in a...a dark red dress" Tommy asked breathlessly, whilst his mind frantically tried to make sense if what he saw was real, if you were real.

"That way, Mister" the rosy-cheeked child replied, pointing to a back alley leading to a row of terraced houses before running off to his friends that were patiently waiting for him at the bottom of the street. With shaky steps Tommy ran across the road, raising his hand in apology to a car and it's horn blaring at him from the near collision his dazed state caused. With his hands trembling, and his breath held within the tight confines of his burning lungs, Tommy turned the corner. And, there you were.

"Tommy..." You sobbed, backing up against the roughness of the slabbed wall as he stood in front of you, his own eyes welling with the unspent tears he'd been holding in for the past two years in an attempt to push away the reality of your absence.

"You're dead...I..." he said, his voice catching in his throat as he stepped closer, his brow furrowing in confusion at the acceptance he had surrendered to, now thrown into a disarray. " I.. I thought you were dead" he muttered in front of you as you shook your head, the back of his hand coming up to gingerly stroke across your cheek as the soothing coolness of his wedding band he couldn't bare to part with brushed along your delicate skin. But as the initial shock slowly started to fade, Tommy's jaw suddenly tightened and his gentle touch dug into your skin, his fingers twisting in anger as the creases of his brow deepened and the fury of feeling fooled took over. "I thought you were fucking dead!" He snapped through gritted teeth grabbing your chin, his grip painfully pushing into your flesh as he pressed his forehead to yours and his own tears spilled over between the curves of your cheeks. "Fuck!" He bellowed pushing your face away in disgust as he stumbled back to the wall opposite you, pulling his peaked cap from his head to cover his face as his body forced the contents of his stomach up onto the bricked floor. For months he had believed you had killed yourself, thrown yourself in the cut. And for months he blamed himself, burdening his body and mind with the responsibility of your death. The realisation and shock of you being alive was too much for his body to comprehend, even for someone as hardened to life as himself. " I thought you were dead..." Tommy wept quietly as he turned his head away from you, his reserved demeanour crumbling apart, leaving a man broken and tired from two years of heartbreak in its wake.

" Tommy I'm sorry, I..." You sobbed, approaching him as he put his hand out to stop you.

" No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to fucking say sorry" he sniffed back his tears cutting off your meek attempt to apologise as he stood up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his disheveled hair hanging over the perspiration sticking to his forehead." Why?" His voice wobbled barely above a whispered as he searched your eyes for an answer, his back pressed firmly against the brick wall to stop his legs from finally giving in as the adrenaline that had been pumping furiously through his veins slowly dispersed and fatigue took over.

" I couldn't do it anymore Tommy, I..."

" Mummy!" a little voice caught your attention as you turned your head and your eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of your son in Frances' arms mere feet from you, his little hands reaching desperately for you as Tommy watched your panicked reaction, a scoff catching in his throat when your eyes sheepishly darted away from your son and back to him.

"Mrs Shelby..." France's voice broke as her hand flew to her mouth and tears pooled in her eyes at the sight of you standing before her. For she believed as everyone else did, that the poor Mrs Shelby had succumbed to her troubles and parted from this world, now free of her tormented mind.

" Take William to the car, Frances" Tommy ordered turning away, adjusting his coat and demeanour as he breathed heavily through his mouth, every part of him desperately trying to regain some form of composure.

" Mummy! Mummy!" Your son wailed as your eyes brimmed with tears, and you apprehensively stepped towards him with your hands out when Tommy hurried between you both, and you came face to face with the remnants of his anger firmly etched on his face once again. He didn't trust you. Your initial reaction to seeing William not good enough of one for your husband who was now evaluating your every move, your every word.

" Mummy's coming, isn't she?" Tommy said, grabbing you by your arm as he waited for a response, his jaw tightening at every passing second as his patience grew thin, unwilling to let you go, unwilling to give you an option. "Isn't she?"

" Yes" you whispered, nodding your head as Frances hurried to the car with William wailing loudly in her arms.

" Look at you" Tommy said, glaring at you from head to toe, his words laced in disdain as he took off your hat, throwing it to the muddied ground with despise. Disheveled clothes, matted hair and muddied fingers. He had given you the world, given you a warm home, anything you could have wished for and yet you chose this, a life of labor and poverty over him and your son. With a mind clouded with fury, Tommy was doing what he promised he'd never do to all the gods he had prayed to, all his ancestors he had pleaded to if they would just grant him one thing, and bring you back into his arms. He was judging you.

" Wh...why is he calling me mummy?" you said, sobbing as you hurried alongside Tommy's quickened pace, his hand still painfully grasped onto your arm, dragging you with him to the car. William was only four months old when you left, he didn't know who you were, did he? " Tommy?"

"Just fucking move Y/N" Tommy said, opening the car door and pushing you in, slamming it behind him with enough force to frighten William into tears again. " Frances, please" Tommy sighed pinching his brow, his elbows resting on the steering wheel as William cried loudly in the back of the car. As Frances tended to your child, searching for his brown bear she feared he may have dropped in all the commotion, you kept your eyes fixed firmly ahead of you, your hands clasped in your lap not daring to look at anyone as shame engulfed you and reality hit home that you would now have to face not only what you did but everyone in your life you had left. Tommy had now plunged you head first back into a world you had abandoned without an ounce of sympathy or understanding, the anxiety of what awaited you was becoming unbearable.

Pulling up to Arrow house, the confines of the car were silent, and had been for the majority of the journey with William now soundly asleep in France's arms, the only audible noise being that of the muddied driveway of your forgotten home and the sound of Tommy's flesh gripping tightly onto the stirring wheel. He was furious, the moment he could have only dreamed of as he sought solitude in the pits of grief now engulfed with hatred. As Tommy and Frances exited the car, you stood seated, panic suddenly enveloping you, your body unable to move as you watched the familiar faces of the grounds men coming to a halt as they squinted into the car and at your face they thought they'd never see again. You wanted to run, not from the heavy weight bearing down on your heart but run from their critical eyes and the things you were sure you could hear them saying.

" Get out" Tommy said opening your door, pulling you out and marching you to the front of your once, shared home.

" Tommy" a lady beamed upon seeing him as she waited in the foyer, her dark brown locks cut into a bob bouncing on her shoulders with every step she took as your husband stormed through the grand entrance with your arm grasped tightly between his fingers. "And who's this?" she frowned looking at you from head to toe, her assumptions of you firmly setting in stone from your appearance alone. A thief no doubt, or a whore. She thought turning her nose up at you as her crimson nails curled into her palms as she crossed her arms, ready to have you thrown off the grounds or better, dumped in a ditch. You had no place in this grand house, in the house she was now not only the governess of, but a woman that the maids and workers believed had wormed her way into ruling the manor Tommy had abandoned his interest and care for to the grief of losing you. " Well, who are you?"

" She's my wife"

PART TWO

Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

[theladyismyshepard]

My Lady In Death

My interest has shifted towards Baldur's Gate 3 and call me obsessed, almost as much as I was for RE:V... This is my headcannons for the main ladies of the party... careful, it's a long post

How the Ladies Would React to Your (Tav's) Death

Shadowheart –

It’s funny… it’s so funny… There was a battlefield roaring its rage to the Heavens in the sky. A melodic thrum of agony and death and yet there was a single sound that rose above all else: the sound of your body crashing to the ground, a loud grunt forced out from between your lips.

The strong “Ignis!” caught itself in Shadowheart’s throat, subconsciously forfeiting her turn as she stared wide-eyed at your fallen form. Her lips were moving, yet no sound was escaping. No spell, no incantation, no anything– She was so frozen in disbelief, one could mistake her for being under a stunned or immobilizing spell. All she could do was watch your shaky movements as you attempted to hoist yourself to your feet, only to receive a final concussive blow that left trails of blood leaking from your nose, mouth, and eyes

“NO!” The scream was so raw that almost everyone in the party felt the shredding of their own throats

Karlach reached forward to intercept the cleric just as she showed the first signs of darting thoughtlessly across the battlefield towards your dead body, but when Shadowheart showed an ounce of determination, she proved unstoppable. She sidestepped Karlach’s hand, ignored the resulting string of curses from Lae’zel, and darted towards you. Not only did she have faith in her teammates (well, Karlach) to guard her back, she had faith that Shar would guide her forward.

Which raised a few questions: Why was Shadowheart fearing this loss in a way she never felt before? Why was she so desperate to counter the inevitable? Why couldn’t she let Shar take you away? Shadowheart swallowed thickly as she dropped to her knees beside you, pulling your head into her lap. Her trembling fingers reached into her travel pack and she didn’t stop fumbling around until she produced a Scroll of Revivify. She untied the knot keeping it together, and rested the parchment atop your chest.

Her voice shook the entire time she spoke through the words of the scroll. Her eyes were blurred so thickly with tears that the obscured spell was nearly illegible to her. Shadowheart’s left hand was tangling its fingers in your hair, an absent gesture of comfort more for herself rather than you at the moment. She was aware of the sudden company of defense that swarmed and encircled the two of you, but she couldn’t afford to pay them any mind, not when you were growing colder by the second and Shar’s grip of darkness was taking its hold on you.

There was a glow surrounding your body for a moment, and when it finally dimmed, the scroll burned itself to a crisp and faded away on a gust of wind. There was a pause that had Shadowheart’s heart stuttering against her ribcage and then you were taking in a large breath of air, and it looked so natural, as if you had never stopped. Shadowheart released a breath of her own and it nearly had her bowing over, her tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

You were here, you were alive, you were going to be okay… She indulged herself in stealing a single kiss atop your brow, her left hand gently scratching your scalp before she pulled back abruptly.

Shadowheart… turned her back on her lady. All color drained from her face, all relief she had been relishing in dried up, all fear she had dislodged back anew, but directed for herself now– As Shar’s servant, she must accept darkness, accept loss almost to the point of wishing for it. You were well within Shar’s merciful grasp

And Shadowheart stole you back… It’s only natural to struggle with your religious guilt after saving the one you care so much for. Give her time to process this.

Lae'zel –

Disbelief. That is the only emotion Lae’zel found herself able to process for an entire minute; Disbelief that your body was crumpled and shredded down in the dirt; Disbelief that this unorthodox hero that was supposedly “meant to save the world” had fallen so easily… Disbelief that she allowed your death to happen.

Next was the fury that almost visibly burned in licking flames. Death would not take you, not if she had anything to say about it. Not when she was standing right there and these fiendish goblins had the audacity to strip your life from your body before her very eyes. No… Lae’zel was fury, she was death, and she would avenge you before she would think to resurrect you.

That half-elf, she had powers of healing and while Lae’zel loathed Shadowheart on a good day, she knew the cleric to have enough wits to know to respond to their fallen hero with haste (lest she meet her own untimely end at the edge of her blade). The fight was a blur, and it was over before any of the other party members could land another hit.

Lae’zel was a flurry of strikes, one after the other, each enemy dropping with a thud before they could so much as raise a shield in defense. Her blade cut through their armor, and with each slice, she couldn’t help but to associate it with the final blow that cut you down. Each wet shluk as her sword went through reminded her of the very sound of your own flesh giving way to iron. She didn’t even feel the blood washing over her enough to get to relish in the victory– this was no victory.

“They’re all gone, soldier,” came Karlach’s small, but steady voice, though Lae’zel still felt rage, she couldn’t shake it…

It was a familiar feeling her people associated with, almost like lifelong friends, but this was driven by a loss that she had yet to experience, and she was damn near close to cursing the Comet himself for allowing such a person like yourself to come into her life and just… change her very being… or at least her standards. But she was cursing you.

Cursing you for coming into her life, showing her tolerance, showing her affection, showing her love… and then just as you had gotten her to fall, you fell at her feet in a pool of your own blood. Lae’zel’s grip around her silver sword tightened, her form trembling in a mix of rage, sorrow, and hatred. Hatred at those who killed you, hatred for you for how easily you went down, but mostly, hatred for herself for not throwing her own body on the blade before it could ever reach your perfect skin.

“Lae’zel… love,” 

The sword dropped as did her mouth. Right… You were intelligent enough to stock up on Scrolls of Revivify when the party was last in Baldur’s Gate. Lae’zel pulled herself together, grabbed her sword, and regained her signature scowl.

“I suggest we keep moving forward unless anyone is seriously injured… then we head for camp and rest… no matter, Tav, I need you in my sight at all times,” You couldn’t help the smile when she took your hand in her own, checked you over once for any lingering injuries, and pressed on before anyone could even answer her question.

Karlach –

Gravity was betraying Karlach on this particular day in so many ways. The way her stomach was dropping to her feet had her fighting back the urge to puke. The lightness of her soul wanting to leave behind the overheating engine that kept her in place. It was all so disorienting, but most of all was the gravity that dragged your body down into the abyss, completely disappearing from sight.

“NOOO!” she bellowed, fire engulfing her body, threatening all who were foolish enough to draw close.

“Karlach! It’s okay!” insisted Shadowheart urgently, “Their soul, look!”

Karlach always knew your soul would have a calming aura about it. The tiny, cool, blue ball of light was beckoning the fiery red that was Karlach’s being. There was still a stray archer somewhere out of sight, but that was of no concern to her. She needed to get to you, to protect you… She had to nourish your soul, feed it life from one of the scrolls that had to have been crafted from the very Gods themselves

You two still had so much left to explore together… The party had just encountered Dammon and had supplied enough infernal iron to ensure an upgrade to Karlach’s engine. Boy did you two celebrate that night after she received her first real hug in a decade. It was all fire and all passion, and that was everything that Karlach needed in life. You were everything she needed.

So forgive her if she refused to give you up so easily after finally, finally receiving the happiness she was denied for so long. She’s done her waiting… Ten years of it! In Avernus… You didn’t give up on her, not when a misguided Wyll had sent you on a path to kill her, and not when you found out she was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow. She would fight through all Nine Realms of the Hells to do the same for you.

Karlach reached the floating orb that was your soul, forced herself to relax enough to extinguish her own flames, and cradled it in her palms as if it was the grandest treasure in the world… to Karlach, it was the world. She had the world in the palm of her hands and she couldn’t help but burst into tears. You were too good to have had any hiccup in your heartbeat, to have been taken so early that Karlach had to bend the very will of fate to bring you back.

“Call me selfish, I don’t give a shit,” Karlach muttered to anyone who was listening. No one would dare to argue her in such a state as this

Gently repositioning your soul into one palm, Karlach reached into her pocket and withdrew a Scroll of Revivify. She swaddled the orb in the scroll, as if tucking it into a warm blanket on a cold night before bringing the entirety of it to her lips and whispering the incantation as if it were a prayer. Your body materialized before the party’s very eyes and you soon found yourself pulled into Karlach’s crushing embrace before she apologized and supplied a Potion of Supreme Healing.

“Try to stay on firm ground from now on, eh?”

Minthara –

Oh Gods, oh Hells, oh shit… May the Gods grant mercy on the soul that decides to cleave your soul from your body, leaving you a mangled mess of what Minthara had come to claim as hers. She was not finished with you and the rush of high you brought with, and she would part the Heavens or douse the Hells to rip you back into her life, and she was about to demonstrate such at this very moment.

Gortash was a formidable foe, he was Chosen for a reason… and that was because Minthara thought herself too good to be a God’s plaything. Second best must answer to her scorn and no longer will anyone question that the wrath of Minthara could shake even the Gods.

The entire scene shifted, and no more were Gortash’s semi-invisible minions, or his tangible, looming fist. He was on his knees, a quivering mess as he gazed into Minthara’s eyes and saw nothing but his own pitiful reflection.

At last, there was a change in her features as a cruel grin slowly twisted the edges of her lips. She would draw this out and savor every last scream he had to offer. It was one thing to threaten the safety of the entire world, but to outright target and end your life, with Minthara standing there no less… it was a direct insult and a loss that she couldn’t even really bring herself to feel.

Minthara is calculating, and while she refuses to ever witness your soul leave your body again, she also knew that she was resourceful if not intimidating. There were ways of bringing you back to life, and every option was at her fingertips, it was just a matter of who or what she wanted to exploit.

After driving a dagger straight through Grotash’s eye and into his skull, Minthara hardly even basked in the quivering of his pained body as he dropped and convulsed in a pool of his own blood. No, she was too busy turning towards Shadowheart and barking orders.

“You! Call upon your deity and demand them to revive your allies with half their health. I’m aware that you are granted this wish only once, and I have yet to have seen you use it.” It was done with only a minimal amount of glaring, and suddenly you were stiffly rising to your feet with a groan.

“You were careless with your life, and I am severely unappreciative of that… You would do best to not piss me off as such again, okay?”

You were nodding along without a word, but you couldn't help the flutter of your newly restarted heart when Minthara carefully put her arm around your shoulder as a means to both guide and protect you from what more is to come.

[midnightbluebells03]

Abby coming home to you after awhile apart because of a business trip or a long patrol

I'LL CRAWL HOME TO HER

CW - fingering (R receiving), mentions of blood/death

WC - 1.6k

I saw Hozier live and work song is so Abby Anderson coded I just had to

Leave me any Ellie or Abby requests x

Patrol.

A six letter word that made your jaw tighten and your grip white knuckle against your palm. Indents from your nails in your skin when you finally let your fists relax for a second.

It had been months. Scratch that years since you started dating Abby. Top scar killer, built like an ox, a human tank in the eyes of the WLF. An unstoppable solider, who's hands have done unspeakable things.

But to you? That's your baby. A soft girl who let's her blonde her cascade down freckled shoulders as you massage her scalp. Someone who babbles about her coin collection for hours while her fingers trace each engraving. The girl who kisses your forehead in the morning and sneaks you back trinkets from her patrol.

Patrol.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in the quiant space you and Abby shared you can't help how your leg is bouncing. Fingers fidgeting as you try to steady your breathing. Her group was supposed to be back hours ago. Nothing more than a standard search, an easy day in Abby's own words when she had rushed out this morning. Yet here you are, lip caught between unforgiving teeth as your mind runs a mile a minute.

What if she was hurt?

What if she was dead?

You shoot anxious glances towards the door every so often like you could manifest her presence. And sure enough after what felt like forevwr the handle turns. In walking a roughed up Abby sporting a new bandage wrapped around her bicep as she rubs the back of her next with a deep sigh. Your feet work before she can even mutter an apology, rushing to wrap your arms around her waist like you could crawl into her ribs. Her fingers run through your hair as her chin rests on your head.

"Sorry baby" you can hear the exhaustion in her voice. The slight rasp from a day of yelling that makes you frown. "Scars"

You hum in response, face buried in her chest as you rub circles into the small of her back through the fabric of her muscle tee. Abby knows the routine, knows how badly you just need her to be with you. So taking careful steps forwards she leads you towards the bed, picking you up while bwing careful of her arm before sitting herself down on the sheets. Keeping you settled firmly on her lap with your face in her neck. You pepper kisses along the skin you can reach like you could ease the pain her body carries, and she swears you can.

"What'd you do today?" She whispers softly hands playing with the hem of your shirt, that's really her shirt. Incasing you in faded black fabric. Underneath you only have on your panties, your sleep shorts sitting in the washing basket since you were too distracted by Abby's absence to do laundry. "Dogs all good?". There wasn't a single time in your whole relationship where Abby hadn't asked how your day was, and on the days you beat her too it she would insist you go first.

"Mhmm" you forcefully pull yourself from her neck to look into the steel blue eyes you want to drown in. Placing a peck onto Abby's nose. "Alice misses you"

She gives you a soft smile before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Sure she does baby" brushing a few stray hairs out your face before her palm settles on your cheek. Thumb stroking over the skin gently. "I'll come see you two tomorrow before I go out okay?"

You give her a soft smile before your eyes wander down to her arm. Looking at the tight bandage around her bicep and swallowing hard before whispering. "How...how was patrol?"

She knows you wouldn't judge her. That you understand she isn't some kind of monster, that the world around you didn't allow for much morals. For much innocence. But sometimes you catch her in the bathroom. Staring at her blood soaked hands like she's disgusted with herself.

"Don't wanna talk about it" her other hand slowly creeps under your shirt, calloused fingers grazing across the skin on the small of your back. "Just want you" Abby leans in and her lips brush against your jaw before she starts to trail kisses down your neck. Pressure increasing as she reaches the spot just above the collar of your shirt.

You bite your lip, tilting your head back slightly but whispering softly. "Abs you gotta sleep". You don't really want her to stop, the way your hand moves to the nape of her necks show her. Your fingers practically itching to wrap around her braid. But you try to be the reasonable one here. Try.

"Please?" Her voice is warm against your skin. A gentle nip of her teeth making you jump slightly. "Always sleep better after"

"Abs" You know you should tell her to sleep, tell her that taking care of herself should come first. But when she pulls the collar of your shirt down to suck a hickey into your collarbone you cant help but moan. "F-fuck" with a wet pop Abby releases the skin, rubbing over the purple mark with her fingers before looking at you with pleading eyes. Eyes you've never been able to turn down before. "Okay but-". You don't get the chance to finish before Abby has moved you. Making you lie on your back as she positions herself between your legs. "Abby!"

"But I need to promise that I'll go to sleep right after and take care of myself tomorrow" she gives you a cocky grin as she pushes the shirt up until your chest is exposed. "I know the drill baby don't worry". With a wink that makes you roll your eyes Abby leans down, kissing across the plush of your breasts until her mouth lands on your nipple. Swirling her tounge around the hard bud as your back arches into her. She takes her time moving herself between each breast until you're biting your lip so hard trying to suppress your whimpers that you can taste blood. When Abby releases your nipple she frowns slightly at the sight of your puffy lip. Brushing her thumb across it. "I know you gotta be quiet baby but don't hurt yourself"

"Easy for you to say" you pout softly before Abby takes the hem of your shirt and hovers it above your mouth. Letting you take the fabric inbetween your teeth to try and muffle yourself. She smiles as you comply and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Good girl" Abby trails her hand down your stomach slowly until she reaches your panties. Pulling them down when you lift your hips and placing them to the side. Her fingers run through your wet folds and she moans softly. "God" her spare hand rests on your inner thigh, keeping you spread for her as she toys with your clit slowly. "Always so needy for me huh baby?"

You try to respond but it's barely audible through the fabric so you just nod. Eyes rolling back slightly as she applies more pressure to your clit. Making your hips jerk up in response. Abby hums as her mouth finds its way back to your chest, peppering a soft trail of kisses all over your body. She was always so gentle with you, like she was afraid you'd break.

The room is still apart from the faint moans coming from your lips and the slight creaking of the worn out bed under you. And for a minute it feels like the world isn't so bad.

Because Abby's got you.

You grip onto her wrist as you feel yourself nearing the edge, squeezing hard and earing a groan in response. Abby leans into your ear so she can whisper sweetly. "Missed you" her hand leaves your clit and you drop the tshirt from your teeth. Before you can complain her fingers are circling your dripping hole. "Missed you so fucking much" she mumbles softly. Pushing in slowly as you eyes flutter shut at the stretch. "Never gonna get sick of coming home to you yknow that right?" Before you can answer she starts pumping in and out. Only making soft moans spill from your lips instead of conherant sentences. "Don't care if it's infected, scars or even other WLFs, nothing-" she moves her fingers harder. Like she's trying to drive the point home as her fingers curl against that spot that makes your eyes water. "Nothing is going to stop me from coming back okay?"

You can't do anything but nod as your fingers find their way into the base of her braid. Tugging gently as you struggle to keep your eyes open. "A-Abby-"

"Sshhh" she kisses your forehead grntly as her fingers keep their pace, coxing you to your climax as she whispers "I've got you baby, give it to me"

You clentch around her thick fingers as you hit your edge hard. Eyes rolling back and your hand still gripping her hair hard while the other clutches the sheets. You whimper as she helps you ride it out, only pulls her fingers away once your breaths even out and yours eyes open slowly. She plops herself down beside you, watching as you regain your head and turn your face towards her.

"I missed you too" your voice is shaky, airy. Filled with more love than you could put into words

Abby smiles before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. She raises her eyebrow at you as her fingers trail back to your clit. You swat at her none injured arm playfully and reach for the lamp on the nightstand.

"Deals a deal Abs you gotta sleep"

She groans and reluctantly stips from her patrol clothes. Not bothering with pyjamas as she crawls under covers. Pulling you into her chest and kissing your head. Its quiet for a few seconds before she whispers. "Round 2 in the morning?"

"Abigail" you say sternly but with a clear smile in your voice.

"Okay, okay...goodnight baby"

Tag list : @lonelylocallesbian @st4rluvrr @boobdrug @thegreatandlvable @icedsimpsayo @madds19zxl @jupiter-502

[heartcereql]

shades of cool

୨୧ young!coriolanus snow x f!reader ୨୧ IN WICH Coriolanus is the person you've grown to hate and compete against. But when you and him have to work together to achieve what you want, the tables start to turn. (6.2k+ words) ୨୧ cw: cursing, a LOT of tension (yall r going to hate me for the cockblocking), probably ooc snow (acting like he's a sweetheart and not a psycho lollll), like one mention of blood?

a/n: snow lands on top (of me pls)

There were only two things that you completely and utterly despised: breaking your favorite nail and the voice of Coriolanus Snow.

"Y/n!"

You made no sign whatsoever to acknowledge the man following your across the crowd of burgundy uniforms. You just clutched your books tighter and quickened your pace.

"Hey, Y/n- wait up!" he called again.

Sighing, you stopped in your tracks and turned around to see a platinum blond running in your direction. The usual shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You put on your best effort to suppress the eye roll that was begging to be released.

"Yes?" you asked, unamused.

"I was just wondering- you seemed kind of distracted in class today." His words were sugary, almost enough to trick anyone into thinking he was truly concerned. But not you though. You had learn to identify the glint in his eyes from a mile away. "Well, just in cas you missed this-"

Before you knew it, you had an A+ graded exam shoved in your face. Making a face of disgust, you scrambled away to look at his face, expression filled with pride.

"That's great, Coriolanus, real great. Would be even greater if I had asked", you scowled, turning away while Coriolanus scoffed behind you, quickly catching up with you again as you resumed your way out.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/n! You're not the only one who's allowed to brag", he said, nudging your side.

"Clearly not. You do it all the time", you deadpanned.

"Don't be mad 'cause you weren't able to beat me. Again."

The smell of roses was too stuck in your nostrils for your liking. Sweet and inviting, but remembering who it came from made the flowers lose all their charm.

"Also, exercise three's answer was option D," he pointed out, that annoying smirk on his face again.

"What?"

"It was option D, not A."

"How did you even- Nevermind. Option A is the literal definition, care to explain how it is option D?" you argued, rolling your eyes.

"I- A's not the definition!" Coriolanus tried to rebute.

"It is. Try paying attention for once."

"It's not!" He stopped fully, leaning against a wall and opening his bag.

"What are you doing?" you raised a brow at his franctic search. Sometimes you forgot how infuriating he was.

"I'm looking for the textbook," he replied, face almost buried in his bag.

"Unbelievable," you scoffed, turning around. "You really are unfixable, Snow."

Walking away from the mess of papers he had made around him, you could hear him protest.

"Hey, don't go! I'm finding the page!"

You shook your head. The exasperation in his voice was like music to your ears.

You knew who you wanted to be from a very young age. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you had to do to achieve it. You wanted everything.

Top of your class since you were five. Student of the month every month. Class president. Winning every single award that could be won by a child under twelve years old.

You wanted to take everything from a life that had given you nothing. Like a phoenix, your mother used to say, risen from the ashes to burn in the most blazing fire. With little to no resources, your family had incredibly made it work so that they could afford a small apartment in the Capitol (if you dared call the cubicle that your family shared a house). But your family had made it. And so had you, child prodigy, wanting to rescue your poor parents and sister. Specially when your mom's frequent coughing developed into something far more serious.

You were unstoppable. Nothing in your way. Praise. Applause. Recognition. It was all in the back of your hand.

Until Coriolanus Snow appeared.

He and you were basically the same. Same drive for power, same desire to rescue your family, same overachiever character, same flawless grades. One would think you would get along, being so impossibly similar.

And perhaps you could have. You could've befriended him and helped each other. If he had not equalled you with such aptitude. Before you knew it, Y/n Y/l/n was never mentioned without Coriolanus Snow. You were no longer the only student to pass with distinction. You weren't the only clear winner, or the only candidate for class president, or weren't so easily distincted class president, for Coriolanus was your vicepresident (something that had never been a thing, that appeared as suddenly as him).

But he was fighting you for your spot. Naturally, you didn't even consider him as a potential friend. He was an obstacle in your way, as you were in his. Soon, you two were always engaged in bantering, cruel comments, trying to bring the other down by showing off your accomplishments and grades and awards and titles.

It was more than safe to say that you and Corolanius held special hatred for each other.

And then came the Plintz Prize. Both of you wanted it with equal burning ache, and gave your very best since the first day. Obviously, you weren't the only students who were interested in winning the prize, but you were the ones ready to sacrifice everything, the ones to always make the most of an opportunity, even if it was minimal.

You were so deeply convinced that you were nothing like the other.

But neither of you was willing to let anything come in your way.

"A new financial aid is going to be gifted."

The words echoed in the room as students hushedly commented, whispered to one another.

"Students will submit a proposal, individually or in pairs. A suggestion with your own design of the Hunger Games. You'll go into detail about every little thing, so that in the end, Dr Gaul will select the project she fancies more to be the winner and receive the financial aid."

You and Coriolanus shared a look from opposite sides of the room.

The prize is mine.

As per usual, you were determined to go for everything. You needed to nail this. That very same afternoon you were sat in front of your desk, scribbling down what was supposed to be the first draft to your proposal project. You'd noted some ideas, but they didn't seem to make sense altogether.

Groaning for the umpteenth time, you got up from the spot you'd been occuppying for the last two hours. Your home was no inspiration, which was why you gathered all your scattered pages and notes and made your way to the Academy's library.

There was a spot you liked there. Your spot, though only you referred to it as that, of course. A comfy chair with a green cushion on the end of a large oak table, between the shelves of Geometry books and medicine articles. Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the large window on spring afternoons, and even in the bleak winter it felt nice to look through it.

Making your way over to your spot, you could almost feel the comfort of the chair, how your thoughts would clear and start to make sense. Eyes half closed anticipating the delight. But you opened them only to find a familiar (and annoying) blond sitting in your corner.

"Move" you said as you finished your way over to him.

"What? No. I'm working. Thinking", Coriolanus answered, unbothered, without looking up from his notes and papers, some scrambled, some with big ink stains.

"I don't care. It's my spot. Move.”

He raised his head to look up at you and stopped writing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this chair had your name engraved on it,” he pettily remarked.

“Whatever,” you exhaled, plopping down on the seat next to him. “You are such a pain in the ass, you know.”

“Back at you,” he replied, eyes focused on his papers again.

You huffed and reached inside your bag to grab your notes.

Your messily written ideas were mocking you, at this point. If you thought they didn’t make much sense at home, they definitely weren’t making any now. You had so much in mind. And they were great ideas, really. But you couldn’t find a way to connect them, for them to make sense altogether. And you were missing something. Something so essential, something that you couldn’t quite place.

How will the games be watched if they’re held in the middle of a desert? Where will the cameras be?

You scrunched your paper, groaning again and dropping your head to the table.

"Something wrong?"

You lifter your head to find Coriolanus looking at you, carding a hand through his hair.

"None of your business."

"Jesus, chill out Y/n. I was just asking if you were okay.." he spoke, not in his usual bratty tone; he sounded just worried.

Your eyes widened a bit with a mix between embarrassment and shyness.

"I'm just... stressed. I'm stuck on the whole proposal thing, it just won't make any sense. I feel like it's missing something, but I just can't know what," you told him, rubbing your temples.

Coriolanus let out a breathy chuckle, to which you looked at him disbelief.

"I knew you were cruel, but laughing at my miserable state is just-"

"I'm not laughing. I'm relieved," he explained. You looked for any signs of mockery, but his eyes were truthful and soft.

"Relieved?" you frowned.

"Yeah. I-I thought I was the only one having a kind of block," he looked down to his notes and that was when you noticed the messy paragraphs the crossed ideas, the lines and arrows that tried to connect everything.

You gave Coriolanus a tight-lipped smile. He was right. It was somewhat relieving to know that your only real threat was having a hard time like you were.

"Hey, I've got an idea."

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Oh hell no. No idea Coriolanus could want to share with you would turn out great.

"Shoot"

"I think we should partner up for the project," he bluntly said.

"Pardon?" you asked raising your brows. You really thought that you hadn't heard him correctly.

"Yeah, I mean, think about it. We both have a lot of ideas but feel something missing. We-we could help each other out!" Coriolanus clarified, somewhat flustered. "We'd win the prize and split it. Highbottom said the proposal could be submitted by pairs. If we do this together, we'll be unstoppable."

You blinked twice, digesting his words like you couldn't believe they were real.

"I think that's the worst idea I've ever heard."

Coriolanus scoffed. "Right, because you're so well known for your good ideas."

True. Though being a straight A's, perfect student, you had a certain fire inside you that had given you a reckless and flaming reputation.

"I'm in."

You were back in the library the next day, only this time you were sitting in your spot, and Coriolanus was besides you. You had been sitting in silence for the past fifteen minutes, reading the other's anotations and doodles.

When you finished, you leaned back into you seat, stretching your neck and pushing loose strands of hair behind your ears.

"So?" Coriolanus inquired when he noticed you were done. "What do you think?"

"I'm... surprised," you told him, chin resting on your hand as you looked at him. "It's almost identical to mine."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that's what I was noticing. I guess great minds think alike, right?"

"Could be, or you just copied me," you said. Coriolanus sneered and you saw the complains forming behind his lips, so you were quick to clarify. "I was joking, Snow. It seems we're not so different."

"Or you just copied me" he mocked, using your words from earlier.

"You wish," you smile, scoffing in a playful manner.

"Hey, what was it that you were unhappy with about your ideas? Because I think they're pretty great," Coriolanus asked, handing your notes back to you.

"They don't make sense to me. I couldn't come up with a way to connect it all," you shrugged. "Maybe we shouldn't use all of this, I don't know."

The entire day was spent between countless bickering and snacks, you and Coriolanus discussing the project and how insufferable the other was, shielded by the brimful shelves and the hushed conversations between students.

Over the next few days, your begrudging meetings with Coriolanus continued, each session marked by a mixture of tension and reluctant cooperation. The library became your unofficial battleground, the hallowed halls witnessing the clash of two strong-willed minds.

As you both settled into your usual spot once again, there was a palpable air of wariness. However, you couldn't help but notice a subtle change in Coriolanus. He seemed more open to discussion, his usually stoic facade occasionally cracking to reveal a hint of vulnerability. The topics ranged from the project at hand to personal interests, and amidst the disagreements, you discovered shared preferences and surprisingly similar perspectives.

By the first week, a sort of unspoken truce had settled between you. The bickering had mellowed into a more civilized exchange of ideas. Coriolanus, despite his initial resistance, began to respect your opinions and even admitted to finding some merit in your perspectives. You, in turn, acknowledged the sharp intellect beneath his icy exterior. Shared laughter became more frequent, often catching both of you off guard.

Throughout these encounters, the library transformed from a battlefield to a space of reluctant collaboration. Despite the lingering differences, a strange sense of partnership emerged. The once insufferable project discussions turned into an exploration of each other's intellect, and with each passing day, the library witnessed the evolution of an unexpected connection between two seemingly incompatible souls.

Your bag hit the leg of the table as you slipped in your chair, the blond taking the seat next to you. A soft thud was heard, along with something rolling. You were going to duck down to reach it, but Coriolanus was already grabbing it.

"Hey, are these yours?" Coriolanus asked, holding a bottle of pills.

Your eyes widened. Your mom's medicines. You reached inside your bag to check if the bottle you had picked up from the chemist's before school was still there. It wasn't.

"Yeah. Well- my mom's."

He handed the bottle to you, whcih you were quick to put back in your bag.

"Is she okay? Not like it's any of my business, but those pills are like one of the strongest shits ever," he frowned.

Taking a deep breath, you explained, "She's not. She hasn't been for quite a while. And the doctors don't say much, but it isn't looking good."

"I- um, I'm sorry," he stammered, looking down. "If you or her ever need anything, you know you can talk to me, right?"

You nodded, leg bouncing up and down.

"Here," he said, scribbling down something on a ripped piece of paper. "My address. If you ever need it."

"Thank you," you looked into his eyes, words barely a whisper. "I really appreciate it."

His knee bumped yours, like soothing it down, keeping it steady. "Anytime," he smiled.

You gave him an awkward smile, looking away.

The green folder, clutched tightly in your arms, contained the first draft of yours and Coriolanus' design for the Hunger Games. You both were going to introduce it to Dean Highbottom, since you needed to inform him of who formed your team and some other information. Then, he would grant the two of you an interview with Dr. Gaul.

Once, Coriolanus had referred to the folder as 'your baby'. You had given him a blank stare for a second before the two of you broke down in laughter.

Mindlessly turning around a corner, you bumped into someone's shoulder. A pair of arms caught your own, steadying you, keeping you from falling.

"Whoa, sorry-"

The folder. You quickly stepped back, freeing the folder from being crushed any further. Compulsively checking if the folder was okay, you failed to identify the pair of arms that had held you seconds before.

It was okay. Your baby was okay.

"So sorry, I- Coriolanus?" you asked as you finally lifted your gaze. "I thought you were coming by later?"

"Couldn't wait. I was actually looking for you. I just saw Dean Highbottom enter his office. Campus is pretty deserted, so I'd say we could be the first ones."

A soft smile graced his face.

"Shall we then?" you posed the courtsy question playfully.

"We shall"

The two of you made your way to the Dean's office, gushing about the project like two schoolgirls. Grades and rivalry were not brought up once. Perhaps just because you wanted the day to be perfect.

After knocking on Dean Highbottom's door and hearing a 'come in', Coriolanus opened the door and both of you came in.

"Look who it is! Snow and Y/l/n. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes", the Dean greeted you.

Coriolanus and you shared a glance before giving the Dean a polite smile.

"Are you here about the project?"

"We are," you answered, gesturing to the green folder in your hands.

"As in the two of you are submitting the proposal together?" the bearded man asked, raising his eyebrows. When Coriolanus nodded, he let out a chuckle. "I thought I wouldn't live to see the day."

You offered an awkward smile as you and the blond sat in the seats before the Dean's desk. You silently handed him your folder. After opening it and browsing through the various concepts and sketches, Dean Highbottom closed the folder, tapping his figertips against it.

Nervousness gnawed your insides, your leg bouncing up and down in anxiety. You hadn't even noticed this, too caught up into thinking the absolute worst of the situation; until you felt a knee- his knee- press into yours. Suddenly very aware of what was happening outside your mind, you blinked once, as to come back into reality, and then again, swifting your eyes to Coriolanus besides you.

For a moment, just a moment, you saw only a pair of eyes that guaranteed comfort peering into yours, crowned by the softests of golden curls. And then you saw the snarky comments, the whole usurping-your-place scheme, the perfect grades and the annoyingly pitched voice. The smile froze on your lips. Fuck.

"So," the Dean's voice broke the silence. "Are you two dating yet? Because it would really benefit you"

Both your head and his snapped into the Dean's direction.

"Pardon?!"

"What?"

Two pairs of eyes now looked wide and with a mix of disbelief and annoyance at the Dean.

"I take it you're not." No shit.

You were still too astounded to speak. What did he mean yet? He was your proffesor. He should, must, know that everything between the two of you is rivalry. Right?

"What, um, what did you mean it would benefit us?" Coriolanus asked, his voice as thin as thread.

"Well I eyed your proposal. And it's good. More than good. It has a lot of potential. But Volumnia Gaul loves one thing more than her creations. Gossip. Drama. If she hears the two of you are dating, she'll make you the Capitol's power couple. She'll give you a story. You will become her favourites. If you want to win at all costs, I'm just giving you a shortcut." He stared at the pair in front of him."But, overall, you've done a great work. I'll leave you to ponder it and I'll alert you when Dr Gaul is ready to see you."

You nodded, as Coriolanus and you mumbled 'thank you's and 'goodbye's and 'have a nice day's before leaving the office.

Campus wasn't very crowded yet; only a couple of students could be seen lurking around. The morning still preserved its coldness, dew remained on the grass.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you started walking, the blond boy quick to catch up.

You hated how you got caught up in this mess. All because you and him needed help. And because he and you were the only answer to the other's problem.

"Y/n?" Coriolanus spoke softly. "How do you feel... about what the Dean said?"

Sighing, you replied, "I just don't know. I mean, this was all crazy before but now? I'm confused, I guess."

"Don't you think it can help us even more?" he frowned.

"But we don't need any more help. We joined forces, no one can beat us, there's no need for us to-"

"I know we can do it without Gaul's help. But it’s one thing to win this aid, and another thing to become Gaul’s favourites. Do you realise how many doors she could open for us?” Coriolanus had stopped both of you now, his body blocking your way, hands in your shoulders, eyes fixed on yours.

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s just pretending,” he pleaded. “Plus, we’re in this to help each other out, right?”

A warm smile spread over his lips, one that only encouraged you and painted a smile of your own on your mouth.

“Fine. We’ll do this lunatic shit. Since you’re not able to reach my level without my help,” you teased, moving past him and resuming your way.

“Sure, Y/n. Whatever makes you sleep at night!” you heard Snow shout behind you.

You just gave him the finger, biting back a smile as you walked away.

The news spread like wildfire through the campus. The dean's offhand comment had ignited a storm of speculation and gossip. As you navigated through the university halls, it was impossible to ignore the curious glances and hushed conversations that followed you.

The library, once your sanctuary of academic warfare, now became the epicenter of buzzing rumors. Students stole glances at you and Coriolanus, whispering behind cupped hands as you pretended not to notice. The atmosphere had shifted, and your every move seemed to be scrutinized under an invisible magnifying glass.

Your next meeting at the library felt different. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the weight of the rumors hung in the room. As you both delved into your project, the tension was palpable. Every accidental touch or shared smile now carried an added layer of significance.

By the third week, the rumors had taken a life of their own. The once reluctant collaboration now felt like an uncomfortable alliance, forged not just for academic success but to navigate the newfound attention. Your life, once a sheltering and private, now felt like a fishbowl.

The doors that led to Gaul's lab appeared impossibly big. You let out a shaky breath, one you didn't know you were holding. Bouncing your leg usually was how you showed your nerves, but, since you were standing, you settled with just a trembling pinky finger.

Cold fingers were wrapping around your hand before you knew it.

"What are you doing?" you turned to Coriolanus.

"Gaul's no fool. We have to put on our best efforts to make her believe we are together. You have to help, too. And your hands were shaking," he shrugged.

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed his words and leaned further into his arm, clinging to him like a good girlfriend would.

As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing brown and blue eyes shooting a daring look. The woman’s face was instantly lit up with a smirk.

“Coriolanus Snow and Y/n Y/l/n. The sweethearts Dean Highbottom has told me so much about,” Volumnia Gaul greeted the both of you. “Please, come inside.”

She stepped aside to let you in. The ceiling seemed to be miles away from the floor. White, ivory columns welcomed you, glass cabinets displaying all sorts of weird creatures and experiments.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Gaul commented behind you.

There was just something so... unsettling about her, something you couldn't quite place but that was ticking you off

It's for the better.

That had been your mantra for the past few days. The end justifies the means. You kept telling yourself that you didn't want this, that you were only doing this for convinience. But lately you hadn't really been feeling that way. Not when you were sitting right next to him, laughing mere seconds ago, his eyes staring into yours, not trying to intimidate you but more in an attentive way.

He thought you looked so delicate and alluring. You did often, as of late. There were a few stray strands of hair that hid your dashing smile from Coriolanus. A smile he had so recently grown so fond of.

He just couldn't resist the urge to tuck them behind your ear; his fingers a soft caress against your skin. And so he did.

His touch was feather-like, as if you were a porcelain doll that was about to break. At the sudden contact, you shifted your gaze from the papers on the table to look at him. And, god, you almost wish you hadn’t. Because he looked otherworldly just sitting there besides you, hand behind your ear, lips parted slightly, dangerously close to you.

“Your hair was getting in your eye,” he mumbled.

The proximity was going to kill you. He was invading all of your senses. And you hated it. You hated it because this wasn’t even real. It was just supposed to help you with Gaul, nothing more. You hated it because it didn’t feel that way. You hated it because this was not the Coriolanus you knew; not the Coriolanus you chose to know.

“Thanks,” you breathed.

You were scared. As pure and simple as that. This was uncharted territory for you; you had never seen this part of him. It frightened you because you were losing control over your emotions.

"Coryo..."

He was convinced you were goingo to give into his desires. You were convinced for a moment, too. But then it occurred to you that this wasn't supposed to be real. That whatever you had between you both was just a scheme. That he was just joking.

"What did you score on the last biology exam?"

You mentally cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. You felt yourself involuntarily slipping away from his touch.

“100%,” he responded, frowning. “Why?”

“Guess all these time around me wasn’t enough. I got 102%,” you smiled, trying to sound (hoping to sound) less awkward than you sounded in your head.

“How’s that even possible? I thought there were no extra exercises.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat before continuing. “I detailed every answer more than it was needed, so.”

“Oh. Well, congrats.” His lips were pressed into a thin line that he tried to transform into a smile, but ended up just contorting his face.

You looked at the papers before you, laying in a mess on the table, surrounded by pencils, sticky notes and highlighters. Then your eyes peered at the window besides your spot. The sun was setting behind the Capitol’s skyline, painting golden and rosy hues over the library. It was getting late.

“I- I think I should go. I’d better go home before it darkens.”

Coriolanus nodded. "Cool. I'm gonna get going too."

You bit your lip as you stood up, gathering your work. Not another word was uttered until you noticed the librarian peering over at you from behind some shelves, and students at the end of the aisle were turning their heads to you.

Perks of being Gaul’s favourite couple, you supposed.

You leaned to Coriolanus’ level again, pulling him into a side hug as you whispered in his ear.

“They’re looking.”

And then, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out.

Too overwhelmed thinking about that moment with Coriolanus, you missed the way his eyes stayed on you until you left the library, and the way his fingers lingered on the part of his forehead that had been in touch with your lips.

The thought of him plagued your mind as you made your way home. Not even the biting cold of the evening could take the warmth spreading over your cheeks. What was going on with you? He was the guy you hated, you used to hate, the one that was trying to take over your spot.

But your attempts to convince yourself were vain. Because you no longer felt raging hate when you thought of Coriolanus. You couldn't excatly pin what it was, but it was definitely not hatred.

Reaching inside you bag for the key of your family apartment, you sighed, as if that was going to clear and sort out your messy feelings. Yet you didn't even need to open the door, for it was opened swiftly in front of you.

"Y/n!" your father pulled you in. The frown between his brows, the worry reflected in his eyes, the way he held you. Something was not right.

"Dad, what's wrong? I-"

"It's your mom, she- she started to cough so much blood. She's unconscious now, I- I was just about to take her to the hospital."

"Oh my God." Tears stung in your eyes. You knew she was bad, worse than she'd ever been, but this was far from what the doctors had informed you about. "Shit, where's Deena?"

"Your sister's staying over at a friend's. Is there anyone who can take you for the night? Someone who knew about your mother, if it makes you more comfortable?" he asked, rubbing your arm.

Coriolanus. You hated that he was the first person to come to mind, but the truth was thas this project had swept you up from practically every other aspect of your life. You hadn't seen your best friends much, since they were also focused on their projects. Most of your time had been spent with Coriolanus. And you didn't know how to feel about that. Disgusted, you supposed. But that didn't quite match the tugging in your chest whenever you met him at the library, or the calmness that took over you when his knee pressed into your anxiously bouncing one.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," you nodded, blinking the tears away, though they slid down your cheeks anyway.

"Good. I don't think it'd be good for you to be alone right now."

You hurriedly packed your essentIals and some extra clothes, making your way to the door. You held it open for your dad as he carried your mother.

"I'll see you soon. Be safe, Y/n," he whispered.

"You too, Dad."

You tried your hardest not to break down as you saw your father making his way to the doctor's with your mom in his arms.

But once he was out of sight, you rushed out of the filthy apartment building. As you ran through the Capitol's streets, you remembered the now wrinkled paper that he had written his address on.

"Here. My address. If you ever need it."

It sat scrunched in your coat's pocket. You kept running as your trembling hands unfolded it, and quickened your pace once you'd read the address.

You arrived at his door short of breath, cheeks reddened from the effort, tears dried from the wind. Your knuckles softly knocked at his door.

Mess. You felt like a mess. Everything you had known to this day seemed to have completely flipped around, changing everything all of a sudden. Your mind was a tangled, impossible knot of thoughts and feelings and emotions that were constantly contradicting each other.

A blonde girl opened the front door. To your blurry eyes, she looked like an angel.

"Can I help you?" she kindly prompted, a concerned frown appearing in between her brows.

"Yeah- I'm looking for Coriolanus?" you said, voice on the point of breaking.

"Come in, he'll be right here," the woman spoke, stepping aside so you could come in and closing the door right after. She sat you down on an armchair, her touch gentle and tender. "Coryo! Someone's here for you."

As soon as the words left her mouth, you heard footsteps tumbling down the hallway and into the entrance. The instant his eyes met yours, he put everything else aside. His sole focus was you. The red around your eyes, eyelashes glinting from the recent caress of tears, shaky hands, bottom lip between your teeth, and your leg bouncing up and down almost uncontrollably.

He wanted to hold you forever. Take you in his arms like you were a fragile flower, yet the most fierce of them all. Rivalry long forgotten and buried, mean comments and hurtful offenses forgiven without a second thought. He saw Y/n. Not perfect grades, not snarky remarks, not an opponent. Just Y/n. Sweet, sweet, Y/n.

And you didn't see Coriolanus Snow. The blond standing in front of you now was not the one you'd been fighting for the better part of your teenage years, even before. He was not the one competing against you. Who was him then, if not the Coriolanus Snow you had known all your life?

Coryo.

"Y/n, hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, voice surprisingly soft, even for his cousin. He crouched down, placing a cold, calming hand on your fidgety leg.

You could feel the tears welling up again, because he was there for you.

“I… I’m going to head out,” the woman said. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Coriolanus muttered a goodbye and then she was gone. And as soon as she was, you broke down.

Burying your head in your hands, tears burnt past your eyes, flowing now freely. All that could be heard were your heavy, shaky breaths. His hand on your back, tracing small circles, made you pull your head up.

Fuck, why were you even here?

"Y/n?"

"It's my mom." You tried to dry your cheeks, only for tears to fall down again. "She-she lost consciousness. The doctors didn't even say she was that bad. And I.. I just arrived there and there was nothing I could do-" your voice broke before you could finish the sentence.

He instantly pulled you into a hug, your head hidden in the crook of his neck, arms around it. One of his hands was wrapped around your torso, safely drawing you to him, while the other was tangled in your hair.

"I am so, so, sorry," he whispered, breath tickling your ear. You only clinged to him tighter; the only thing on your mind other than your mother right then was how warm and guarded you felt in his arms.

When you finally retracted to look at him, you found your body almost leaning into him again, yearning for his embrace. You inhaled sharply.

"I'm by your side no matter what, okay?" he assured you, eyes piercing yours, hands sliding up your figure to cup your face. "I'm here for you."

You did your best to gather yourself and nod at his words. But then you felt him pulling away in the slightest. No. You wanted him close. You wanted him.

You rose a hand to his neck, fingers dancing along his skin, messing with the blond curls they could reach.

"Hey, Y/n," Coriolanus called out. "She's going to make it. She'll be okay. And so will you."

A knot formed in your throat, the prequel to infinite tears, because who was him and what was he doing to your heart?

Whatever prejudice or thought you had against him was blurrying in your mind. The person he was supposed to represent in your head was further and further from the one barely inches away from you now. And then it hit you. Right then, right there. It didn't scare you. You wanted to know this person. You wanted to give the both of you a second consideration under different lightning.

And so, you closed the gap between Coriolanus and you, as he had tried and wanted so bad to do mere hours before. His lips were warm, contrary to every other part of his body you had ever been in contact with.

For a fraction of second, he hesitated, frozen in his spot, convincing himself that this was happening, that this was real, that you were real. But once he kissed back, he just couldn't let you go.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, exploring your body and drawing you to him as he kissed you, all the desire and passion (and even the resentment, too) poured into the kiss. Coriolanus wanted to make you feel okay. Not just now. But 'now' would have to do as of that moment. And if this was how you wanted the pain to go away, so be it. Fingers digging in your hips made you leave out a mixture of a gasp and a moan, which Coriolanus used to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Everthing he did got you addicted, craving more.

You had both been sitting on the floor, but now you were climbing into his lap, pulling away for the smallest of seconds, but either way Coriolanus was quick to reunite your lips again. Your mouths danced together. Your sking tingled pleasantly under his touch; a constant fire travelling beneath his fingers. But when his hand raised to your cheek, checking for the trace of any new tears. It was simply enough to melt you on the spot.

Tugging at his hair, you angled his face to leave a trace of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. His groan reverberated through your skin.

The pain was buried somewhere in your mind, but your heart didn’t ache in that moment; he was all your senses were taking in. And you felt safe.

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

[bluehourbucky]

Love from afar

pairing: rockstardad!bucky x fpregnatmom!reader

summary: bucky is away on tour and you're catching up via face time.

a/n: new pictures of Sebastian got me feeling some type of way. also don't mind the kid names I don't know duhshd

-if you'd like to be tagged please let me know! tag list is open! so are my asks

warnings : sexual content / pregnancy / almost mas*uba*on / dirty talk

masterlist

bucky masterlist

rockstardad!bucky [extra content]

DO NOT COPY OR STEAL MY WORK

_______________________________________

18+ only

Minors please don't interact

Having two kids, one of them being a toddler, does not make life easy, especially when your husband is across the globe.

You're proud of Bucky for achieving his dreams and going on a world tour with his band. However, he didn't have to get you pregnant before leaving for 6 months. To be fair, the tour was scheduled months before you even got pregnant.

Bucky and you talked about trying for another baby when he came back, but by the time he comes back, you will be well into your seventh month.

When you found out you were expecting, Bucky almost cancelled the tour because he straight up refused to leave you. It took a lot of conversation and favours to make Bucky change his mind about cancelling the tour.

Buckys sister Rebecca was a huge part of this working out, she's been incredibly helpful and you couldn't thank her enough.

Today, though, you were alone with the kids. Luckily, your kids are very well-behaved, and you stopped minding the absolute mess your house has been since having kids.

Lately, you've been missing Bucky, he's been a huge part of both your pregnancies. He was and is such a hands-on father and husband, so going through this without him is scary. Bucky calls every day no matter the time zone he's in at the time of breakfast - the most chaotic time of the day aside from bed time.

You smile, seeing his name pop on your phone screen, you swipe, and are met with his beautiful blue eyes.

"Good morning, doll. Looking as gorgeous as always. How are you doing? And little one? And our little trouble makers?" Bucky asks, he's literally a second away from buying plane tickets every single time you send him a picture of you or your kids or you three together.

He looks so good, that you don't know if it's the hormones making you horny or it's just the regular horny you get when you see him.

It's been a while since he had let his hair grow out, mostly because the kids have been obsessed with pulling it, and worst of all, they tried to consume it. Now, being on tour, he let it grow since no one tried to eat it yet.

Bucky didn't visit since he knew that he wouldn't be able to leave again, so he called as much as he could. He missed you more than his heart could take, but this years tour has been the biggest one they ever went to.

You can't help but look at your husband with hunger and love in your eyes, the hair tie on his wrist making you hot all over.

"We're good. Missing you lots, but we're okay. Leo and Theo are trouble as always, but they're good." Bucky smiles at the names of his two boys. He loves them more than anything, but he's secretly hoping that the third would be a girl. He's been dreaming of being a little girls dad. She would be his princess, and he would spoil her endlessly. Not that he doesn't spoil each and every one of you already, but he would be unstoppable.

"Lemme see you, give me a turn doll." You roll your eyes but do it nonetheless. You set the phone on the kitchen counter and lean it on the bottle of water. Bucky smiles wide when he sees your bump, he wishies he could be there and talk to it and give it kisses like he had done other two times.

"Looking good, Mamma, wish I was there with you, miss you a lot." he without fail manages to make you blush even after twenty years of being together. You turn to the side and lift your shirt to give him a better view. Bucky turns into a human heart eye emoji when he looks at his wife and not only are his band members teasing him about it but so are his fans.

"Damn, look at you. Shit I'd do anything to have be there, I would have you naked in our bed, you're so sensitive right now and I'm not there to enjoy it. You're killing me doll."

You whimper quietly, he's the one that's killing you. The two of you enjoyed pregnancy sex way too much, and he's right you're extra sensitive right now.

"Lemme see them beauties, bet they're so swollen, so delicious just for me."

You lift your shirt slowly, teasingly releasing your very much swollen and full breasts, Bucky is a very dirty man and you'd lie if you two didn't explore some fun kinks.

"Gorgeous, my pretty wife, looking so beautiful carrying my baby. All mine."

You're about to reach under your underwear, Buckys hand already wrapped around his cock.

"Daddy!!"

You straighten up, and pull your shirt down quickly, your 5 year old bursts through the kitchen door. You don't know how he knew you were even talking to Bucky but oh well. There goes mommy and daddy time.

"Good morning, baby boy. Is it just me, or every time I call, you get a bit bigger?" Theo squeals from excitement and then goes on a rant about something that happened in one of the shows he's watching.

While they talk you go and wake up Leo, your currently youngest kid.

You get him up and carry him in your arms to the kitchen, he leans on your shoulder still half asleep.

"Baby, gimme the phone for a second." Theo immediately gives you the phone and follows you to the kitchen island where you sat.

"There's my other baby. Still sleepy, mommy woke you up, huh? What are we gonna do about it?"

It was a perfectly reasonable time to wake up....

Your son picks his head up at his father's voice and smiles, reaching for the phone. You put Leo down on the carpet not far from you, so you can still see him and Theo, while you make breakfast.

"Mommy!!!" Theo yells and you look up from the fruit you're currently cutting.

"Honey you don't have to yell I'm right here." you put away the knife, when he comes closer, Theo recently took a liking to yelling and dangerous objects.

"Daddy wants to talk to you!" Theo yells and you cringe at the volume, you love him more than anything but how can such a small child be so loud.

"Doll, I gotta go, we got soundcheck in about twenty minutes, kiss the boys for me, okay? Love you."

"Love you more, and good luck! I know you'll be great! Oh, and don't you dare cut your hair before you come home. I'm going to divorce you."

Bucky chuckles and says love you again before hanging up.

"Theo what do you have there?"

"A KNIFE!"

"NO."

[THE END]

I think this might be my favorite thing I've written so far.....

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[myfictionaldreams]

You Belong To Me // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, smut/angst/fluff, Dom/Sub, role reversal, possessive sex, jealousy, threats of violence, size difference, car sex, rough sex, riding, multiple orgasms, cum shots, creampies, breeding kink (kinda), handjobs, oral (m and f receiving), body worship, praise kink, marking, begging

Words: 8.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“A strong woman may remain silent when people talk behind her back. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t notice. It simply means she chooses not to waste her energy on foolishness. She has more important things to do”. ~ A quote by someone much stronger than you that was for damn sure.

Anger was an emotion that you didn’t experience often and why would you? You were in a happy and safe relationship with two of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, the biggest inconvenience in your life was whether you had pasta or potato for dinner.

Today however, you felt an unstoppable rage that curled in the pit of your stomach, your blood pumping violently through your veins as it felt like you hadn’t blinked in over 10 minutes, jaw now aching from how hard you were clenching it.

“You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off, Boss Lady. Do I need to be worried?” Sam Wilson asks as he leans against the bar next to the stool you were currently sitting on.

You didn’t rush to reply to your bodyguard, instead lifting the glass you held firmly in your grip to your lips, sipping the alcohol that was strong enough that it burned as it passed down your throat and into the infernal rage in your stomach. Your nostrils flared as you rested your glass back into your lap, trying to take a deep breath as you watched the scene in front of you.

There were two of them. Two women that knew that Steve and Bucky were both your partners, in fact, you’d been introduced to them as Mrs Rogers-Barnes as per Steve’s request, even though you weren’t married, it was just his way of showing who you belonged to. Especially as you were in public and there was nothing more public than the party you were all attending as guests for Steve’s good friend and ally Thor.

The blonde, long-haired giant was very much a lady's man and seemed to have invited half of the female population of Brooklyn. Not that this was an issue, it was actually nice to spend some time with women as you spent so much time around dangerous men and you also felt confident with Steve and Bucky around women, they never even glanced away from you, EVER.

So this was why you had left with Sam to go and get another drink, already enjoying the alcoholic buzz in your veins and wishing for it to continue, however, this gave the perfect opportunity for these two women to flock to your boys.

It had been funny at first, seeing them being completely ignored by your two hulking boyfriends, their back turning as soon as the two girls approached. But this didn’t seem to affect their confidence, persistence and audacity to then lay hands against Bucky’s arm and Steve’s back. This was where you had reached your limit and then when they physically pushed between your boyfriends so they had to look at the girls, well now you were seeing red.

Steve and Bucky were YOURS. Even though you could see them continue to try and move away, how dare these girls, - who knew that the boys were taken - continued to flirt and talk and touch what was yours and just how far they would actually go to get the boy's attention, you didn’t want to find out.

Finishing your drink in a single swig, you placed your glass back onto the bar, slightly surprised that it didn’t smash with the force in which you placed it, before sliding down from the stool. However, a firm hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting your movements as you turned your violent gaze away from the girls and up to Sam.

“What?!”, you asked, voice dripping with poison and promises of fury. Sam’s eyes widen slightly having never heard this tone from you before and you instantly felt remorseful, muscles in your shoulders relaxing slightly, “sorry”, you apologised for your tone.

“I know you’ve got some evil mastermind plan to go over there and whack them one, but don’t do anything out of anger. I’m more than happy to shoot my way out of a situation for you but we’re in a room half filled with gang members that won’t hesitate to shoot if there’s suddenly a fight”.

You released a heavy sigh knowing he was right as you glanced back at the girls, seeing them laughing obnoxiously whilst trying to push their bodies closer to your boys who still continued to try and step away. “Fuck, I want to punch them so badly”, you huffed under your breath.

Sam chuckled deeply, having never seen you this angry before, usually in these sorts of situations you’d be completely overwhelmed, anxious and upset. Clearly, the alcohol was acting as a liquid courage, your anxieties were pushed to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do”, Sam continued, feeling uncomfortable with the way the girls were acting, noticing the way Natasha was now trying to move them away as she was the boy’s bodyguard. “I’m sure that Boss and Bucky would love nothing more than to see you be their knight in shining armour but I’m just saying - be careful for me… please? Make my life a little easier”, he joked, not letting go of your arm as he tried to catch your eye.

The corner of your lip quipped up slightly, looking up at him, his kind eyes meeting yours, “And what do you suppose I do? Let them continue to touch MY boyfriends? They’re mine!”

You’d never been this verbally possessive, never having been in this mindset before.

“You can do whatever you want Sweetheart and I’ll be there to back you up, no matter what, I’m just saying to take a breathe and think about what you’re doing”.

Sam was right, he always was so you took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth and straightened your spine. Sam seemed to believe that you’d calmed enough as he released the grip on your arm.

“You good?” he asked, resting his hands on your shoulders, giving you a little shake.

“Yeah, I’m good”, you responded.

Turning on the spot, you looked back towards Steve and Bucky who were now looking at you with a quizzical expression, eyes brightening as you finally approached where they were. However you didn’t stop directly next to them, no, you strutted straight for the girls who were a few feet away now thanks to Natasha’s perseverance but they still looked over towards your boyfriends.

You hoped you looked as deadly as you felt, a sly smirk on your lips, shoulders rolled back as you stopped in front of the two girls who were taller than you but this didn’t knock your confidence, as you spoke loud enough that your voice cut through the music, keeping it in a sickly sweet tone. “I see the way you’re looking at them”, you pointed your head in the direction of Steve and Bucky who were watching the exchange intently, Natasha to their left with a proud smirk plastered to her beautiful face and you could feel Sam close behind you still.

The girls looked up and down your body, their eyes full of judgement and disdain, one of them sucked on their teeth, tilting her head to the side, “And who are you supposed to be?”

You looked her directly into her soulless eyes, “Oh you know exactly who I’m supposed to be”. This confidence was something you’d never experienced before, gone was the timid, highly anxious girl, when it came to your boyfriends, no one would get in the way of your protection even if they didn’t necessarily need it. To be disrespected in front of you with the lack of shits given by the two girls, you weren’t going to let them get away with it.

One of the girls, who sucked her teeth stepped forward so you were only a foot away from each other, “and why the fuck would we give a shit about that?”

You didn’t back down, stepping close enough that you could smell her rancid cheap perfume, the tips of her shoes grazing yours, “Because then you’d know that they are taken. Do you both understand what the means? Get. Fucking. Lost. They are mine”.

The girls both choked on a laugh, “You don’t fucking own them, maybe they want a taste of us, I can guarantee they’d be begging for more”.

Now it was your turn to laugh at the sheer audacity of these girls. It wasn’t a dainty laugh either, no, it was one that you had to hold your belly because of the ache, drawing other people’s attention from around you. Trying to take a deep breath to gather yourself, wiping away at the corner of your eye to the tears that had gathered there, you could see that your laughing had hit a nerve as both of their girls’ jaws were tensed.

Good, you thought. It wasn’t the part about ownership that had you laughing, in fact, Steve and Bucky had made it more than clear that you had their whole heart but it was the part about begging for more. All it would take was a single look and you knew your boyfriends would be begging for more, to touch your body, to kiss your lips, to hear your moans, these girl's naivety was truly baffling.

Returned to look them both in the eyes, your orbs flicking from one face to another as you returned to your natural calm, words spoken lowly with every ounce of promise that you could muster. “If you touch or even look at either of them again, I’ll break your fucking hands. You don’t know what the fuck I’m capable of”.

Turning on the spot, officially finished with the conversation, not allowing the fear of actually threatening someone to take over and thankfully the girls didn’t shout anything back. This was a small blessing because you were one more word away from upsetting Sam and punching the one closest straight in the throat.

The two bodyguards and more important, Steve and Bucky were watching with expressions you hadn’t really witnessed before. Nat and Sam looked almost proud of you with gleaming eyes and smirks across their faces. Whereas your boyfriends, well from the obvious tents in their suit trousers, there was lust as you’d never seen before, mouths gaped open as you approached them all.

“We’re leaving”, you stated matter of factly.

“Why?”, Bucky asked, his voice soft and he looked almost like he was in a trance.

Catching his eye as you replied, “Because if they look at you like that again, I’m going to fucking kill them both”.

Not waiting for anyone’s reaction, having made the decision for them already, you reached to grab your boyfriend's hands, pulling them with ease as they stayed by your side as you all made towards the exit.

Natasha was by your side in a second to open up the doors for you all, she glanced in your direction, whistling lowly, “I like this side of you, Sugar”.

A heated flush encompassed your body at the compliment but it didn’t falter your steps as Sam now too rushed in front as you all arrived at the large SUV. Sam held open the car door for you as Natasha climbed into the driver's seat, Steve and Bucky following in close behind you and then finally Sam was in the passenger seat.

As soon as you were in the car, you were taking off your heels, needing some freedom from them. Your body was still trembling with anger and adrenaline, not even thinking of normal thoughts as you felt Steve’s warm body slide next to yours into the middle seat, followed by Bucky.

The car was only just starting when you were climbing into Steve’s lap, already having decided this when you had approached those girls, they were your boys, you needed to feel them.

“Baby”, Steve began hands on your body to help as you straddle his lap in the limited room, your leg awkwardly slotting between his thigh and Bucky’s. Any words he was planning on saying were cut off as your face smashed into his, lips moving against his in a bruising manner, almost violently.

Steve kissed you back with just as much passion, one of his vast hands cupping the back of your head and the other hand resting on your hip, helping as you ground your hips against his, the material of your thin dress riding up over your thighs with the movements. The mafia leader groaned deeply into the kiss, especially as your warm, wet tongue slipped into his mouth as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss further.

But you weren’t waiting another minute, pulling back, hand blindly reaching out to Bucky, feeling his rough facial hair beneath your fingertips and pulling him closer just for him to meet your lips as you moved your attention to him.

The car began moving but you didn’t care, or the fact that Natasha and Sam were in the car, they’d already seen the three of you fucking plenty of times before.

As Bucky’s tongue brushed against your lips, you opened yours just as eagerly as you had with Steve, groaning at the taste of him. Your hips continued to rock against Steve, who had moved his sinful mouth to your neck, his teeth nipping along the sensitive skin.

In all honesty, you were not thinking clearly, it was almost like the little devil on your shoulder had taken over your body. All that kept spiralling through your thoughts were those stupid girls’ faces as they looked at your boyfriends. THEY WERE YOURS. You needed to feel them, taste them, hear them, everything you possibly could just to soothe your inner demon, and insecurities, wanting to prove that they only wanted you.

However, as the car continued to move, Steve tried to regain some stability to the moment, his mouth removing from your jaw, “Honey, you need to put your seat belt on”.

Now it was your turn to remove yourself from your boyfriend, lips tingling as you also sucked in air greedily, looking at Steve and not missing a beat as you demanded, “Take out your cock”.

Steve also matched your speed, eyes flicking to the front of the car, “Nat, find somewhere to park right now”. Then his hands were pulling your face back to his, nose squishing against his cheek as he wrapped his two muscular arms around your body, trapping you in almost like you were his seatbelt.

Your own hand was still holding onto the side of Bucky’s head, the brunette was kissing your palm, the sensation tickling your skin and then his lips were wrapping around your thumb and sucking it into his mouth in a highly erotic move that sent heat straight to your cunt.

Pulling back from Steve momentarily and looking at Bucky, admiring the view and the way in which his usually bright blue eyes were almost black in colour with his blown-out pupils. “I want your cock out too”, you requested to Bucky.

“Yes ma’am”, he replied after releasing your thumb, swiftly undoing his belt and zipper, his hips lifting so his suit trousers and boxers could be pushed to his midthigh. His flesh hand automatically wrapped around his length moving steadily up and down to try and ease some of the tension that he was experiencing ever since he saw you stand up to his girls.

Thankfully the car pulled to a stop, Natasha and Sam didn’t waste any time before getting out of the car and you didn’t even check out of the window where they’d stop, only really realising that they’d found somewhere because Steve’s secure arms loosened around you.

This gave him the opportunity to reach for his own zipper but you needed to feel someone now and Bucky was already sitting there looking pretty and ready.

“Too slow”, you teased Steve with a huskier voice than usual as you began to climb over him to straddle Bucky’s lap, lifting your dress further around your hips, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull your underwear to the side and sinking down onto Bucky’s cock.

“Holy fucking shit”, Bucky gasped at your abrasiveness, having never seen you like this before, your pussy walls fluttering as you had to stretch and adjust to his size quickly. Luckily you were already drenched with arousal and need that helped you to slip down his length.

Bucky’s nibble fingers reached for your underwear, easily tearing the material into two and removing it from your person and discarding somewhere in the SUV. With your hands clutching the nape of his neck, fingers teasing the shaved hair as he massaged your hips, both sucking in a deep breath before you seemed to snap out of any restraint you’d been holding back.

As your mouth once again frantically found him, you began to ride him, hard and fast like it was a race to the finish line. The noises he was producing only encouraged your fucking, the vibrations from his moans, seeping into your chest from where it rubbed against his. You were both breathless but didn’t stop the kiss, almost like you were trying to prove a point, which in a way you were, just how far you could go to pleasure him.

The car was shaking with your momentum as you chased Bucky’s high, not your own, you didn’t care about cumming right now, you just wanted Bucky to feel good, needed to see him orgasm.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the lack of air, you finally pulled away, lips swollen slightly and shiny from the shared saliva, the atmosphere warm from being in a contained space, the sweat-coating body of your bodies. Your mouth wasn’t finished with its pleasuring though as you tilted his head back and hungrily kissed and nipped his neck, harder than usual, making sure to leave teeth indents and purple spots.

You were never one to mark up the boys, they always needed to remain professional looking and you did feel slightly like a loved-up teenager frantically fucking in the car but it was just one more way that you could show that he was yours.

“Tell me you’re mine”, you demanded, and his first response was to moan in such a way it was almost pornographic.

“I’m yours”, Bucky responded gruffly, hands squeezing your hips harder. It was your turn to moan, purposefully clenching your cunt around his cock tighter. “Fuck!” Bucky cursed into your ear, his grip now painful and sure to leave bruises beneath the skin but you didn’t care, it was motivating you more. “If you keep this up Doll, I’m gonna cum before we even get home”, he admitted, eyes closed in concentration.

This was like music to your ears, as you pulled back, leaning your forehead against his, your hips still frantically moving up and down. “Good, I want you to cum, right now! Please Bucky”, your voice was pleading to him as once again you squeezed your cunt around him, almost suffocating his length.

“Ah mama- fuck”, Bucky was almost delirious, unable to form a full sentence with how good he felt at that moment. Not only did he get to see you looking fucking sexy as hell standing up to those girls at the party but now you were riding his cock like a woman on a mission.

Your mind was still only on the end goal of him cumming, needing to see the pleasure in his face which was hard with the blurred motion of you riding him but as his mouth gaped open as he released a recognisable little noise that he always did just before he came, you slide of his cock and sat back on his thighs.

Both of your hands quickly wrapped around his soaked, throbbing cock, squeezing tightly and moving up and down at the same speedy space, paying particular attention to his tip, thumb stroking over the underside that was most sensitive.

Bucky looked almost feral, his entire body leaving the seat, lifting your body with it as he shouted, “FUCK! Just…right there! That feels so good!” With the momentum of both of your bodies, as he began cumming, the spurts of white globs shot up both of your bodies, coating his shirt and your dress and you didn’t stop, not until his cock finally stopped throbbing in your hands.

You were both breathing hard, particularly Bucky who looked shocked to the core, his hands releasing their grip on your hips to massage the tender area.

“I’ve never cum that quick before”, Bucky admitted, his head falling back against the headrest.

You felt almost powerful at this revelation, you had done this to him, only your body and words and caused such a reaction.

Glancing over at Steve who was lazily stroking himself, watching with half-lidded eyes, you were nowhere near done, using with an authoritative tone, “Take your clothes off”.

As Steve does as instructed, you leaned in close to Bucky, kissing his puffy lips softly, trying to have a tender moment as he whispered, “I love you”, against your lips.

“I love you too Bucky”, you replied with just as much sparkle in your eyes.

“An I am yours”, he reminded, stroking your cheek briefly as Steve finally settled next to you, now stark naked from head to toe.

Spending amount to appreciate his perfectly sculpted body, the muscles that flexed in the subtle light and the trail of hair that surrounded his red, veiny dick. Your mouth filled with saliva as you wanted nothing more than to wrap your lips around him but there would be time for that later.

With as much grace as you could muster, you climbed back over to Steve, straddling his thick thighs and a thought dawned on you. Realising that this might have been the first time you had been fully clothed whilst both Steve and Bucky were naked and it felt incredibly empowering.

Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip as he admired your beauty, “I like seeing you like this”, he complimented, his breath fanning across your face with the close proximity.

You don’t respond to his praise, knowing that if you did talk it would most likely be a pathetic moan and you needed to keep this persona up so once more, you raised higher on your knees, guiding his cock to your entrance and sank down his length.

Once again, you didn’t want to waste time and began slamming up and down his body, hips rolling with each slap. Now you moaned deeply at the sensation between your legs and at the sight of Steve’s naked chest being covered with smears of Bucky’s cum from where it was still weight on the front of your dress.

Steve’s head dropped back at the feeling of you riding him, exposing the beautiful length of his skin and once again something took over your body, the possessive little demon that wanted to mark and claim him as your own. You sucked a path up the side of his neck, biting harshly on the junction where his shoulder and throat met, making Steve sigh in pleasure.

Against the side of your leg, you could feel Bucky’s slacks rubbing against your skin, still all trying to squish into the back of the car so as you finished leaving a particularly dark purple against Steve’s collarbone, you looked over at Bucky.

“Take your clothes off too”

“Yes, hot mama”.

You loved how they both were doing everything you instructed without a moment's hesitation, only spurring you on more with wanting to see Steve cum just as hard as Bucky had. With your fingers delved into the slightly damp hair at the name of Steve’s neck, you held his head in place, making sure that he watched you ride him.

“I want you to cum too, fill me up with your seed, wanna feel you dripping out of me”. Steve’es eyes rolled to the back of his hearing such dirty words leaving your lips. You did want him to cum inside of you, but not yet but he didn’t need to know that just yet, as mentioned, you were only just getting started.

Steve’s hips suddenly started fucking into your harder, planting his feet firmly onto the car floor so he could push up to meet your movements. “That’s it, I want you to cum Stevie”.

Your boyfriend shouts loudly, enough for anyone nearby to hear, holding your hips down with plans to cum inside your cunt, but once again you managed to roll off just in time, only moving your hands up and down his shaft twice before he's coating the two of your fronts in his white hot seed, much like Bucky.

His body twitches and jolts as he tries to come down from his high before he all but collapses into the seat, looking at you with a dangerous smile, “I thought you said I could cum inside of you”.

Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, you replied in a sultry voice, “You will. You both will”

You’re looking at him and then Bucky. Both naked and there was nothing you wanted more than to carry on the fun games but you needed more space, needing to be out of the cramped car. Steve’s fingers drifted to your upper back, grazing over the zipper of your dress but you stopped his movements by pulling his arms away gently.

“I want to go home”, you explained to his quizzical look.

“We will baby, but I need you to cum first”. The way he said need, had your pussy throbbing more and you were aching to find some relief with your own orgasm but that still wasn’t your priority, still planning to make them both feel good.

“No, I want to go home”, you whisper, looking into Steve's eyes and he gave in almost immediately with a huff at not being able to give you the relief he knew you wanted. Bucky banged against the window as you sat back into your seat beside Steve who helped you to pull your seatbelt over your body, whispering in your ear how much he fucking loved you before pulling his own safety restraint across his naked body.

Now you could look out the window, you saw that Natasha and Sam had parked in a random, dark alleyway in an area you didn’t recognise. The two bodyguards returned to the car and didn’t comment about the lack of clothing or the thick scent of sex in the car, both just casually chatting with each other as the journey home continued.

Steve’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire journey and from the corner of your eye, you could see them both getting hard again which thrilled you massively. Finally, the gates to your home were in sight and then you were bidding your friends/bodyguards a good night and walking into the house.

You were still fully clothed except for your panties and shoes, whereas Steve and Bucky were stark bollock naked, erect cocks bobbing in the air for all of the guards and security to see but they didn’t care, neither did you.

Your steps stopped in the entryway to your home, hearing the soft click as the door shut and the flick of the switch as Steve turned on the overhead light. Glancing around at your home, you breathed in the homely scents and let the familiar setting calm the little nerves that were beginning to push to the forefront of your mind.

You began to feel embarrassed by your out-of-control behaviour, shoulders dropping as the confidence seemed to seep away into the wooden floor below. A solid, warm body stepped into your line of vision, a finger was crooked under your chin to force you to look up into Steve’s eyes which were calm and twinkling with love.

“You know we don’t want anyone else right? I have always, and will always just want you”, Steve spoke softly and earnestly.

“Yeah…Yeah I know”, and you did know this. In fact, it was probably the main reason why you hadn’t cried today and let the anger come over your body. Your boyfriends had gone above and beyond for you, to keep up their affections and remind you daily of your importance to their life, you did not doubt it for a second that these girls were ever truly a threat to your relationship.

Another warm body was touching yours to the right, Bucky now taking control of the direction in which your head pointed whilst also raising his little finger, “Just us until forever right?” Your smile reached your eyes now at his little saying, something he’d recently begun saying when you were feeling doubtful and you were quick to hook your own much daintier little finger around his, squeezing them together.

You still felt somewhat embarrassed by your behaviour though and felt the need to apologise, beginning to form the words, “I’m sor-”.

Steve didn’t want to hear this though, cutting you off with his lips and kissing yours feverishly before pulling back when you were breathless. “Don’t you fucking dare apologise for today, I’ve never been so fucking turned on seeing you so possessive and jealous. Like Bucky said in the car, I’ve never cum so quick before”.

“Really?” you ask tentatively, looking up into his face, making sure that he wasn’t just saying this to make you feel better but with the intense way his eyes bore into yours, you knew he was very much telling the truth.

Steve had another way of showing you just how much he meant it though as his fingers slide around your wrist, bringing your hand up to touch just how rock-hard his cock was. “Yes really”.

Your hand circled around his length, moving up and down slowly, feeling the soft skin beneath and the ridges from the veins and a drop of precum forming at the end as you moved up his cock. Steve shuddered at the sensation, eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, hips rolling in time with your movements.

You admired him closely, from his parted lips to the rosy hint on his cheeks from his flushed arousal, to the sprinkly purple marks across his throat that you had left earlier in the car. It made you feel powerful. Yes, he was your boyfriend and you saw him every day but knowing that he was also the leader of the Rogers Mafia gang and here he was, shuddering at a simple touch of your hand, it was elating.

Bucky was now desperate for your attention as his lips lowered to the shell of your ear, “Let me make you feel good, wanna taste between your pretty thighs”.

You wanted that too, in fact, you were almost desperate to be touched like that but you also didn’t think you were done just yet with making them feel good so you simply shook your head softly.

Bucky frowned, pulling back to look into your eyes, “Why not Mama?”

“Because I want to make you feel good”.

Your hand was still leisurely wanking off Steve who was breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring before he choked out as your thumb brushed over his tip, “And you have made us feel good, baby”.

Bucky once again pulled your attention as he continued talking, “Seeing you today stand up to those girls like someone had taken over your body, that you were willing to go out of your comfort zone just to stand up to those girls, was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I nearly came over and fucked you in the middle of the party if you didn’t drag us out of there anyway. I know you’re soaking for us Mama, let me make you feel good like you’ve done for us”.

Your thighs rubbed together at his words about fucking you at the party, sort of wishing he had just so you could have seen those girls’ faces but then you would have missed out on the fun in the car. The thought of both of their faces as they climaxed had you reaching for Bucky’s cock, joining in with tossing him off at the same pace as Steve, not quite ready to give in yet.

The brunette’s eyes closed at your touch, sighing as he felt the same tension rolling away as you pumped his cock with your hand. There you were once more, pleasuring both of your boyfriends. Both of whom towered over you, and you could spend a minute admiring the way they let you touch them and the power that you held causing a small smile to form on your face, especially as Steve grunted, hips jerking again.

Even though your hands were aching with how hard you were squeezing them both, your movements became more enthusiastic. Steve and Bucky were so exposed, not even in the living room, just standing in the chilled entryway, being wanked off by you.

They deserved this, you decided. Of course, they did, they always made it their mission to worship your body thoroughly and you wanted to replay the favour.

Your mouth opened as you were about to ask if you could suck them off but you decided against asking, the alcohol buzz had worn off in the car but the adrenaline was enough to keep you thrilled.

“Hands behind your back”, you suddenly demanded, still keeping your voice soft and deciding to try and keep up the control for just a little bit longer. Steve and Bucky were instantly placing their hands behind their backs, their chests broadening and feet spreading a little bit to help their centre of gravity.

Both of their eyes were on you now, the various shades of ocean blue staring down at you, waiting for your next instruction, but you didn’t give them one, instead you dropped to your knees.

There was an audible suck in of breath from men as they watched you descend. The wooden flooring was cold against your knees and you had to rise to your fullest length on them to reach both cocks with the length of their powerful legs. You began with Steve this time, licking the underside slowly, holding his eye contact and tasting the salty goodness of his sweat and cum and even a hint of your own juices from where they’d dried on him.

Kissing the tip of his cock and swirling your tongue around the sensitive area, your one hand gripped his base to stop it from bobbing around, whilst your other hand continued to move along Bucky’s shaft.

You couldn’t help but smile around Steve’s tip as you noticed that his shoulders and upper arms were flexing as he tightened his grip behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to stroke your cheek but he was good and kept his arms behind his back as you moved further down his cock with your mouth.

His girthy dick was heavy against your tongue and as it grazed the back of your throat, stroking the area that was your limit. But you made sure to start slow, now wanting to push yourself too much as you could only take half of his length into your mouth.

“Your mouth is always so good baby girl”, Steve praised, a hint of red flushing across his face with his increasing arousal. You hummed in approval, the ache in your jaw and knees worth it to see him slowly bit by bit losing control.

But then, you’re moving over to Bucky who steps closer instinctively to help you reach him and it was an automatic response for you to praise him, the words whispering across the tip of his cock, “Good boy”.

Bucky let out the smallest whine from the centre of his chest and there were notable goosebumps that spread across his thighs, nipples perking as he shivered with the sensation. It was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen and you didn’t waste another second before pulling him into your mouth, pleasuring him thoroughly.

You spent your sweet time moving between them both, saliva coating your mouth as they teased to push further down your throat. You were surprised just how well they were following your instructions as well as they both kept in that stance with their arms behind their back, their eyes not moving from yours as you moved from Steve’s cock to Bucky’s and vice versa.

Their sweet moans were so beautiful, especially as you slipped further down to suck a ball or two into your mouth, your tongue lapping against the sack and enjoying the way they hissed at the touch.

“You look so good on your knees like that”, Steve complimented at one point as you sucked your cheeks harshly around Bucky’s dick. Looking up at the blonde man and removing yourself with an audible pop before moving back over to Steve and pleasuring him.

It was fun going from one to the other and being in complete control, knowing you were slightly edging them before going to the next boyfriend. Your knees were starting to hurt more now with how long you had been on the floor but you didn’t let this stop you, contemplating if you should get them to finish in your mouth or a different body part.

It also dawned on you that this was the first time you’d been in charge in any sort of intimate moment, both Steve and Bucky being the definite dominants in the relationship. But in truth, you were enjoying this little role reversal and with how feral you were feeling after the interactions with the girls, you were glad to have the liquid courage in you to go through with it.

However, being this dominant with two powerful men was also slightly tiring, trying to decide what to do next when all you really had planned was that you wanted them to feel good. But you also couldn’t deny just how horny you were, in between your thighs uncomfortable with need and soaked enough it was leaking down your thighs.

As you gagged slightly around Bucky’s cock, you could feel it hardening slightly against your tongue and hand as he grunted, “Please, mama”.

“Please what? Talk to me Bucky”, you encouraged, wanting to hear more sweet words coming from his mouth.

The man shuddered once more as your voice vibrated against the tip of his throbbing cock, and as he opened his mouth, you truly took him in and just how desperate he was. His metal arm was whirring at the shoulder with how much he was holding it back with his normal hand, knowing he wanted nothing more than to hold the back of your head in place or cup your face.

“Say my name again”, he asked breathlessly, eyes closing for a breath second as you smiled up at him, one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

“Which name?” you teased. “Bucky? Buckaroo?”, with each name, you kissed along the length of his member, still tossing him at the base though for stimulation, the same with Steve. “What name do you want me to use? What about James?” He hissed at this name, cock throbbing more and you made a mental note of this and continued. “What about punk? Barnes?... Good boy?”

Steve’s cock also throbbed in your hand at the last name but it was mostly because Bucky suddenly came and you quickly had to swallow the tip and drink everything he was willing to offer, the substance thick and salty as it slide down your throat.

Bucky’s knees wobbled momentarily, frantically praising your name like a song until the last drop of cum was being sucked out of his member. You made sure to pull off of him fully, not wanting to overstimulate him, amazed slightly as he didn’t soften, it continued to stand up proud between his legs.

Smiling up at Bucky again with accomplishment, you then looked over at Steve, squeezing his length harder as he grunted down his own chiselled body at you readjusting on the wooden floor to remain only facing him, giving him your full attention.

“Are you still comfortable down there?” he asked, licking his lips whilst checking in on you.

Holding his eye contact, you licked his thick tip, nodding to his question. Steve chuckled and then sighed into the stimulation, closing his eyes for a second to savour the feeling before looking down at you with a single eyebrow raised.

“I don’t believe you baby”, his voice was full of confidence. In truth, you were very uncomfortable, our knees screaming for some relief from the solid floor but also your pussy was desperate to be touched but you didn’t want to make it about you just yet.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky squatting down to be eye level with you, his arms still behind him, “let us make you feel good”, he asked with hope laced into every word.

Pulling off of Steve, and leaned into his warm thigh, nuzzling into the hair that covered the muscle, “But I want to make you both feel good! You’re my boys and not anyone else’s, it’s my job to make you feel good”.

“And you’ve made us feel good but this goes both ways, you don’t understand just how much I want to be in between your legs right now” Bucky admitted, his eyes wandering over your still-clothed body, his cheeks just as pink-tinged as Steves.

Looking up at the man whose leg you were leaning on, you asked, “What do you think Steve?”, before risking a quick nip to his sensitive thighs with your teeth, admiring the way his cock bounded in the air as he jumped slightly.

Steve’s voice came out in a growl, “I fucking NEED to touch you, even if it’s just a kiss. I need you up and off your knees, I know they hurt and I don’t want you in pain, there’s only so much time I can let you worship me before I get on MY knees and fucking beg to touch you, baby, so please, let us touch you.”

Heat flooded through your body at the intensity at which he spoke, you thought you were desperate, but that seemed to not be as severe as the mental game going on in Steve’s mind right now.

Biting your lip to try and hide your grin, you finally succumbed, “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Do whatever you want to me”.

You weren’t exactly sure who had grabbed you first. All you were aware of were hands picking you up and instant relief for your poor knees and then the sound of ripping as your dress was easily destroyed. Then you suddenly found yourself staring at the ceiling of the living room, the soft material of the couch beneath your now naked spine.

Lips were crashing into yours, a hot body crowding over yours, pushing you further into the cushions, their lips completely dominating yours. Matching the urgency in which they moved, you felt the rough scrap of facial hair and could taste Bucky, smiling into the kiss as your fingers gently ran over his body, spending extra seconds of love over the scars that he’d accustomed during his life.

As you opened your mouth to moan, Bucky’s tongue swallowed the noise, not relenting with his movements. You were so lost in the body hovering over yours that you were unsure as to where Steve was until you could feel him on one of your legs, kissing the sore knee cap, massaging the area before straightening your leg, and then circling around to the back of the couch to do the same with the other leg.

The relief was unbelievable at being able to extend your legs fully now but there was even more relief as Bucky began to explore your body, sucking on each of your nipples greedily, an action you watched closely. With each in further down your body, he made sure to lick and kiss every area of skin in his path, leaving the skin tingling with arousal.

Both of your legs were then being pushed towards your chest, giving Bucky the perfect view of your cunt, presented to him like it was dinner and with the hungry way in which he was admiring you, you knew that was basically what had been offered to him.

“You’re so beautiful”, he praised, kissing your inner thigh. Steve then sat next to your head, finally able to stroke the pad of his thumb across your cheek, something he had been internally begging to do since getting home and seeing you drop to your knees.

“We’re always just yours”, Steve reminded you, needing the tender moment.

“I’m always going to be yours too”, you responded with love before glancing down at Bucky who was watching with a softened look in his eyes, “and I’m always going to be yours as well,” Bucky mumbled the words back to you, his warm breath teasing the wet area soaking your cunt. Glancing down his body, you caught sight of his cock, still fully erect and pulsating. “How are you still hard?” you asked honestly, he’d already cum twice and hadn’t softened a single bit.

Bucky smirked at your question with quiet arrogance, “I’m always hard for you”. As soon as he finished his sentence, his tongue was pushing into your folds, tasting everything you had to offer. He didn’t bother with teasing, immediately delving his warm muscle into your cunt a few times, before finding your clit and rolling it around with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

Your moans were animalistic and finally had some stimulation after being horny for what felt like hours. Steve’s fingers drifted over your lips as he admired your pleasured expressions, just like you had been doing to the two of them.

“Kiss me. Now!” you demanded urgently.

“Yes, ma’am”. He was leaning down without hesitation and you realised just how much you’d missed his lips since coming home, feeling the freshly shaved cheeks against yours that were such a different sensation to Bucky’s facial hair. They were both so different and yet so similar and they were both yours.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to have you clenched your thighs around his head, frantically feeling the orgasm building in your core. A couple of minutes of clit stimulation from Bucky’s tongue and two fingers grazing over your tender spot within your hole and you were cumming with heavy breaths and moans.

Steve pulled away from the kiss to watch your pleasure, and also allowed Bucky to hear your unfiltered moans, then you were heavily breathing, hands falling onto the couch with relief of finding your peak.

Steve drops to his knees beside the couch so he can whisper into your ear, “I’m going to take you upstairs, lie you in the middle of our bed and I’m going to fuck you until you’re full of my cum. Then after I’m dripping out of you, Bucky here is going to do the exact same thing. This night isn’t ending until you’re full of both of us”.

You’re pathetically mewling at his words, reaching for him and he quickly scoops you up into his arms. You knew your dominant persona was slowly fading as they both scrambled to make you feel good and you didn’t mind that as much, wanting what he said he was going to do, more than anything else in the world.

As the three of you enter your bedroom and Bucky turns on the side lights, you realised you were nuzzling into the side of Steve’s neck where you’d left the scattering of marks. Stroking a finger over the bruised skin, you whispered, “So pretty”.

Steve smirks at your words, liking the thought of you marking him to show that he was yours. Laying you back into the centre of the bed, Steve is quickly on top of you with as much urgency as Bucky had downstairs on the couch.

Hiking your legs up and around his waist as his face dropped to hide into your neck, he's pushing his pulsing cock into your quivering cunt. You were thankful that he didn’t wait, wanting your bodies to be moulding together, his hips slapping into yours and his mouth was now moving against your neck, sucking and biting to match the moves you’d been doing in the car.

You could feel just how possessive and frantic his touches were, reciprocating how you had felt and it only made your heart beat harder, moan louder and hips rocking faster to try and match his dominant pace.

“You’re mind”, he suddenly grunts, against your lips, biting your lower lip and letting it snap back a second later. Sitting up slightly on his knees, he holds your jaw firmly in his grip, making you watch him as he shifted his angle up, hitting directly into your g-spot and he moved with such speed that all you could do was hold onto his wrist and scream out his name.

Your orgasm had you seeing stars, cunt desperately squeezing in pulses around Steve’s cock, so tightly that he too couldn’t hold back as he came, pushing his length all the way in so you could milk him properly, your walls convulsing in time with his throbs. You could feel the wetness and warmth of his cum filling you up and as he pulled up, some of it spilling out and running down your perineum.

Steve sits back to admire his handiwork, pushing your legs apart, and watching his cum at your entrance. “There’s my best girl”, he praised, reaching down with a finger to scoop the drips that had escaped and attempting to push them back inside of your body before moving out of the way for Bucky.

Bucky was more than ready to fill you up, helping to turn you onto your side, sliding an arm under your head and resting your leg up on his hip as he spooned in behind you. Much like Steve, Bucky didn’t waste any time before sliding in, the two of you moaning at the sensation of having Steve’s cum there, it causing extra squelching noises.

Your tits bounded on your chest with each fuck of Bucky’s hips into yours, his mouth attack your neck with just as much aggression as Steve who was now sitting and watching the two of you with a content smile.

You were absolutely fucked out of your mind both from emotions and physically being exhausted, a faint hum settling in your mind and body.

“You’re doing so well for us, Sweet Mama”, Bucky praised against your cheek as he reached down your body to roll your clit in circles to match the rhythm of his pounding hips. The stimulation was almost too much but it was also exactly what you needed as you held onto his arm desperately moaning out his name.

“Buc-Bucky… gonna cum”.

“Cum for me then Doll, want you to cum on my cock, so pretty when you cum”. His praises were like magic for your cunt, as it squeezed tightly in arousal. Those, matched with his tight hold on your body, his fingers playing with your clit and cock fucking you hard, you easily found your pleasurable high.

He didn’t stop, chasing his own orgasm which you were glad about, reaching down to grab the hand between your legs, your clit becoming a little sensitive now so you bought his hand up to your face and nuzzled into his palm.

“Mine”, you mumbled, feeling a little bit subspacey now.

“Yours, all yours, only yours, FUCK!” Bucky felt like he was in heaven as his thrusts stuttered slightly as he finally found his release, pumping his hot seed into your core. Your eyes were struggling to stay open with how exhausted you felt, but you watched as Steve approached, just in time for Bucky to slip out of your raw cunt.

“How beautiful does she look?” Bucky asked Steve as he held up your leg. Steve’s eyes cleaned as he looked at the mess between your legs, both his and Bucky’s cum were leaking from your hole, mixing with your own juices.

“So fucking beautiful”, Steve whispered lightly, kissing your ankle.

Your eyes closed fully now, sighing into the mattress as Bucky kissed your cheek one more time before untangling himself from your body. It was Steve who was touching your body next but this time with a warm cloth, carefully cleaning in between your legs but cum continued to trickle out so he just left it at that, discarding the material and moving to the top of the bed, dragging you easily along with him until you were laid out on his chest.

You felt happy and content as Bucky joined you both in the bed, watching as Steve turned on the TV attached to the wall. Distantly, you could hear Bucky and Steve discussing what take out order to get, making sure to get everything you would usually get and saying they would wake you once it was there, you needed a rest.

Your heart swelled with love, happy to be surrounded by two men that absolutely adored you and no other stupid girls were going to ever change that.

[yeonzzzn]

the ending: park jongseong

a break the chain series: seven / seven

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 5.2k

synopsis: with the two youngest in danger, the pack fights to find them and push out the traitors to end this war once and for all.

genre: established relationship, vampire!jay, vampire!reader

warnings: swearing, blood + d!!th, that’s about it??

prt 1: vampires bleeding | prt 2: you complete me

☾ heeseung(1) | jake (2) | jungwon(3) | sunghoon(4) | sunoo(5) | niki(6) | jay(7) ☽

Heeseung hoped the traitors had no clue he was awake and had Jay communicate down the bond for everyone to meet in secret and quickly. Thankfully the traitor’s power of reading what is said down bonds only works when they are near everyone. 

And Heeseung knew exactly where they were. 

Everyone was already waiting when Jay and Heeseung arrived, the queen was pacing back and forth in the small cellar room, stopping in her tracks to see Heeseung awake and alive. 

“Oh, Hee!” she cried, rushing to her husband and embracing him in her arms, tears streaming down her face, “Don’t ever scare me like that again!” 

Heeseung pulled his mate back and cupped her face, kissing her tenderly, “I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered after pulling his lips from hers. 

You quickly ran to Jay’s side, his arms already opening to embrace you, “What happened with Lilly?” 

Jay glanced at the king and you followed his eyes, seeing the blood that stained his face. Heeseung killed her. 

“They were going to kill her anyways,” the king mumbled, pulling his mate to his side and standing up straighter, “If we kept her alive her enemies would have continued fighting us,” he looked at every single person in the room, “We need to get our kids back.” 

The witch fumbled with the rings on her fingers, “What do you suggest we do? The traitors have them and will cut communications between the twelve—thirteen including Archer—of us off the minute we confront them.” 

Sunghoon took her fidgeting hands in his, rubbing thumbs over her palms in hopes of calming her down, “We will get them back,” he promised, “There’s thirteen of us, we are unstoppable.”

Heeseung agreed, “The traitors only have a small circle, the rest of the royal guard follows me.” 

“And how are you so sure?” Archer said as he kept his arms crossed and leaned against the wall, “From what Jay said down the bond and word passed to me, they have been watching your every move. How are we so sure they aren’t playing both sides to deceive you in the end?” 

“Archer!” his twin sister snapped, “Do you have doubts about his words?” 

“Hey, now,” Jake said, pulling her to him, “Baby, let’s not assume everything, okay?” 

Archer just shrugs, “Heeseung, I am on your side, always. But I don’t want to step out of this room and be blindsided.” 

The room fell silent and all eyes were on the king. 

“Want to know how we know?” Jungwon spoke up, stepping up beside the king, “As the second in command, I did digging. Watching when everyone thought I wasn’t.” 

Jungwon’s mate whistled, “Leader, second in command, and a spy? What can’t you do?” 

Jungwon just smirks at her then continues talking, “It wasn’t hard to figure out who was and wasn’t with us.” 

Jay furrowed his brows, hand squeezing tighter at your hip, “So you knew this entire time along with Heeseung and never said anything?!” 

Both Heeseung and Jungwon slightly looked at him, their faces filled with guilt and regret.

“I told you,” Heeseung sighed, “I had people up my ass twenty-four-seven, it was kind of hard to give out any information.” 

“When Heeseung first suspected a traitor and that our bond was being cut, he wrote it out to me on a paper secretly, and we started to test it out,” Jungwon held Jay’s stare, “It didn’t take long to figure out this person had that kind of power.” 

“If I could have told you all,” Heeseung said, looking every person in his pack in the eyes, “I would have the minute I knew.” 

“We understand,” Sunoo nodded, “Just tell us what we can do to get Niki and __ back and end this war.” 

Heeseung nodded. This wouldn’t be an easy fight, some would get hurt, but in the end, once it was over, it would be all worth it. 

The witch will keep hold in the cellar with her magical items to search where they are keeping the kids while the elf will be at her side and holding up a barrier of protection on everyone, she wouldn’t be able to hold it for long, so the window for the rest to end the traitors was small, every second counted. 

Archer and his twin sister will be at the rear, since they are skilled with bows and arrows, they will use their weapons to support at the back. 

Jake and Sunghoon will be a unit off to the left of Jay and Heeseung, and the queen, while Jungwon and Sunoo are to the right. 

You and Jungwon’s mate were to be in the middle. With her electricity powers, the witch gave her the crystal that suppressed a fraction of her power inside it and was told to only break it if needed. She was also given a crystal to amplify the power. She was a walking unit of her own. Considering the fact Jungwon was the one who turned her and he was already a unit himself, it only made sense she would be just as powerful as him. 

But you? You felt helpless. Sure you had super speed and vampire strength and were able to learn how to dual wield some daggers, but you had nothing else to bring to the table. You were surrounded by powerful beings. Each of them had something so special, so many gifts. 

Jay stood at Heeseung’s side, listening carefully to the plan he had in mind. His eyes drifted to you, taking notice of how you backed yourself away from the group and stared down at the floor. He could read it all over your face, the way you were doubting yourself. 

Jay stepped back, “YN,” he softly said, his fingers twisting themselves with yours, “What are you thinking?” 

You kept your gaze down on his boots, “I can’t help, not the way I want to.” 

His hands were now cupping your face and lifting it up to look at him, “Why are you talking this nonsense?” 

You cupped your hands over his, “Dorian almost killed me,” Jay winced at the memory of seeing Dorian push you off that cliff, watching your body fall into the water, remembering how pale you looked, and how cold your body was. He hated remembering it. Hated Dorian for what he did to you and gave you the scar he did until it thankfully went away after Jay turned you, “What makes me think I could be strong enough to fight this enemy when I was powerless against Dorian?” 

Jay pinched your cheeks, “Don’t talk like that!” he softly hissed, “You were human when Dorian…” Jay sighs and shakes his head, “You’re stronger now, powerful in your own way. I’ve seen you use those daggers. Baby, you’re so strong.” 

You wanted to believe him. Truly wanted to believe him. 

Jay rubbed his thumbs against your cheekbones, “I love you,” he placed a kiss on your forehead, “So goddamn much it drives me insane.” 

Jay wished he could give you the confidence you were looking for. But he’s still how you fight, the drive you have, and even how stubborn you are. You’ve made a fine vampire and will continue to be a great one. He just wants you to see it. 

“Jay,” Heeseung called him back over, “You and YN get back over here, it’s almost time.” 

Jay quickly pressed a couple of kisses to your lips and pulled you back towards the group. He’ll do everything in his power to get you to see how amazing and strong you are. 

—

Everyone walked to the lobby. Sunoo’s elf already started the protection barrier and Sunghoon’s mate sat in the cellar surrounded by her magic items and drew out a circle on the floor to look for the kids. 

Heeseung leads the pack, quickly stopping and holding his arm out. 

“You’re awake, my king,” E said with a smile, “Welcome back.” 

Heeseung tilted his head, not saying a word. 

E chuckled, “I’m assuming you had fun with our Lilly,” he held his arms behind his back, “I can smell her blood that’s still plastered over your face and clothes.” 

Heeseung was the one smirking now, feeling her now dried and crusted blood cracking against his skin, “She welcomed it. Should have seen the look she gave me, begging me to kill her.” 

E hummed, “It’s better this way, she tried to kill you after all,” Jay scoffed, causing E’s eyes to shift to him, “I suggest you watch your tone, false king.”

Jay took a step in front of Heeseung, “Or what?” 

“Jay, stop!” you tried to shout down the bond, only for it to not reach him. Your hands trembled, this was it. Everything was about to start. 

The queen stood a bit behind Heeseung, her eyes glowing crimson, “You will not speak to him that way.” 

E tilted his head, eyes glaring at her. 

Before any more could be said, M came running from the side room, “Oh King Heeseung!” she shouted, “You’re awake! Oh good heavens—“ 

Jungwon moved fast, his hands gripping the side of her face and twisting it, the crack echoing in the lobby. Jake and Sunghoon were at his sides, grabbing a hold of her arms and pulling, the limbs detaching from her body and Jungwon pulling his blade out and cutting deep into her throat, pushing through until her head was no longer attached to her body. Blood spilled across all three men’s faces and clothes, dropping M’s body to the floor. 

E stood up straighter, gripping his hands tightly, eyes flickering crimson, “Now, was that so necessary?”

Heeseung laughed, his blades appearing in his hands as he pointed one at E, “You don’t take me for a fool, do you? I know you cut off our bond and she could read anything that was said down it,” Heeseung tilted his head to the other side and down, eyes piercing into E, “I caught along a long time ago, traitors.” 

The only sound that could be heard was E’s laughter echoing the castle. You clenched your hands into fists, anger boiling your blood as seeing the man who was supposed to help protect the king, laugh his ass off. 

“I knew you were a good one,” he said, starting to walk back and forth in a pacing manner, “I’ve told you that since the beginning.” 

Heeseung narrowed his eyes, remembering all that time ago when E told him he knew Heeseung would be king and make a fine one. But nothing made sense, not when E wanted him dead. 

“Spill,” Jay snapped, his own weapons appearing, “We aren’t playing these mind games anymore!” 

E stopped pacing and glared at your mate, “Lilly told you everything.” Jay snarled at him, and E just chuckled, “It’s all true. I want Heeseung fucking dead!” 

The rest of the males pulled their weapons free, inching themselves closer to their king. 

“Looks like you’ve failed, obviously,” Heeseung smirked, “Your pons kind of suck.” 

“Dorian was trial and error,” E waved off, “I had faith but not a lot. And Lilly? She was so close yet so far.” 

“Why?” the queen snapped, “What did Heeseung do to you to deserve this?!” 

E smiled, “Why my dear queen,” he leaned forward, “He killed the king. That’s the whole problem.” 

Your body tensed, E was pissed off that Heeseung killed the previous king??

E continued his pacing, “I had a plan, you see, to take out the previous king so I can finally have the throne. But then poor, poor Heeseung’s dear friend had to act out and get murdered by the king.” 

Heeseung gritted his teeth, “Don’t speak of Alannah like that!” 

E ignored Heeseung’s outburst and continued, “As I’ve said before, you’ve had a fire burning in you the moment the previous king dragged your ass in here, so ready for a war that hadn’t happened.” 

The queen placed a hand on her mate's forearm, hoping to keep him calm. 

E continued, “I had everything lined up perfectly on how I would kill the king and take the throne. I didn’t even want to change how he was doing things around here,” E stopped pacing and looked Heeseung deep in the eyes, “I just wanted to be king.”

Jay was gritting his teeth and clenching his hands, E didn’t give a shit about making changes around here. He wanted to rule. Jay, Jake, and Heeseung went through hell and back and more because of the previous king and all E wanted to do was continue that pain and suffering. Jake was also clenching his fists tightly, Sunghoon inching himself closer to his best friend. 

“But you,” E pointed at Heeseung, “You just had to get angry over Alannah’s death and take revenge that night. I watched you steal from the armory and make your way to the study. I watched the fire set ablaze in your eyes as you sliced his neck and severed his head from his body,” E was now clenching his jaw, “It was too late to stop you after you tossed his damn head into the fireplace and dragged his body out to the yard. I do have to say, it was a powerful move on your end to make it a public execution of the remainder of his body.” 

Jay glanced over at Heeseung, the memory of barely running out of the castle with Jake at his side to see Heeseung tossing the remnants of the previous king’s body into the fire. Watching the power transfer to Heeseung and seeing the change of his crimson eyes burning their gold. It was the start of the three of them escaping this place and never looking back until now. 

“It was hard to track you down after the three of you escaped,” E continued with a shrug, “But once I found you and saw you created a pack,” he sighed, “I had to create an army myself to take you out.” 

Heeseung was now laughing, throwing his head back and letting out an exhale. He flung his head back forward, eyes now golden, “Where are my kids?” 

E chuckled, “I poured my heart out and this is what you have to say?” 

Heeseung’s fangs grew to their point and Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, the queen, __, and yourself all let your eyes glow crimson, feeling the power Heeseung was radiating and passing on between everyone. Archer and __’s bows drew back, E only being able to see their crimson eyes from the distance they were in. 

“I’ll ask one more time,” Heeseung warned, “Where is Niki and __?” 

E just smirked. 

A small sparkle of light came into view and stopped in front of Heeseung. Sunghoon smirked, “My mate found them.” 

E’s smirk dropped, his body tensing and preparing for what was to come. Heeseung’s smirk at the globe of light and the way his eyes flickered to E told him everything. War was officially about to be unleashed. With a whip of his hand, he signaled for his army to come to his aid, Heeseung and the rest of the pack were already on the move towards him. 

They knew where their kids were and now it was time to end this. 

Heeseung shifted to make a move at E, but he blocked it. But Heeseung didn’t stop. Shoving his body fully against the courtier and breaking through the doors of the castle, the night sky came into their view. 

The rest of the pack ran right behind them. E’s army surrounds them. 

“I love you,” Jay said down the bond to you. Your heart raced. E must have been caught so off guard he dropped his powers for enough time. 

“I love you, too,” you said back, and you could feel the smile Jay had even with you running behind him. 

“Let’s fucking end thi—“ Heeseung barely was able to say down the bond before E cut it back off. Now shoving Heeseung off him and jumping away, pulling his sword out of thin air. 

The males surrounded E, arrows flying left and right from the dhampir and Archer, targeting E’s army. Jungwon’s mate was quick to break both crystals, her electricity flowed throughout her body, the yellow aura radiating around her as she sped through the army, sending shockwaves their way. 

The army on Heeseung’s side finally showed up, helping you all take care of the others. 

You held your own against the enemy, dodging and turning just how you were taught in training, how Jay showed you. You could feel his hands against your skin as he showed you how to use the daggers, and how he moved your body. It replayed like fire on your skin as you shoved the dagger into the enemy’s chest, using the other to cut through his neck, taking his head clean off and his blood coating your face and clothes. 

Your eyes burned their crimson as you continued to fight your way through E’s army with the help of __ electrocuting them as she went. You rush right behind her. Jay’s words of encouragement from earlier spun around in your head like a web, you weren’t useless. You are powerful in your own way and the way you played the battlefield was proof. 

Jay and Heeseung tagged teamed E, taking turns rushing him back to back to not let him have any time to think or react. And the time either of them failed to make a move, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, or Jungwon made up for it. E was strong, a lot stronger than what Lilly was. Which made sense considering E has been alive a lot longer than all the boys combined. His stamina and speed were like nothing Jay had ever gone up against. Same with the other males. E recovered and healed fast, making it harder to take him down. Along with the army of his that was attacking at the same time, this seemed impossible. 

With their communications down and not being able to coordinate when to strike, this fight was going to drag out longer than they wanted.

Jay gritted his teeth as he lashed forward, swinging his blades quickly, but E moved just as fast, shielding himself with his arms and Jay’s blade slashing through them. 

No moves were working. No amount of swinging their blades worked. The males grew tired and the lack of not being able to drink blood before this fight was starting to wear them down. 

All six males had injuries. Their breaths are uneven. Arrows stopped flying across the sky signaling that Archer and __ were out. 

They surrounded E, circling him and catching their breaths. E just chuckled, “Have had enough yet?” 

Jay locked his jaw tighter, twirling his blades, “When are you going to give up?” 

E laughed, shooting his eyes over to Heeseung, “Not until he’s dead and I’m king!” 

You and Jungwon’s mate finished off a circle of enemies, looking over to the boys, “They need blood,” you said, eyes scanning your mate up and down, seeing the exhaustion weighing him down. 

She nods, voice shaking, “I don’t know what to do…” 

A sparkle of light came into both of your views, it flickering, “Go to them quickly,” the witch whispered through the orb, “E has more of his army coming. The boys need blood. Now.” 

“How—“ __ started to say.

“Your blood. You both may be vampires, but your blood is still very much human circulating your veins until it exceeds out.” 

“What about you, __ and __?? Sunghoon, Jake, and Sunoo will need blood too!” you quickly said, worried about your other pack members. 

A chuckle came from the orb, “Don’t worry, it’s all handled.” 

You and Jungwon’s mate looked at each other quickly then back at the orb, seeing it disappear. 

You then see Jake’s mate running towards you, Archer, the witch, elf, Niki, and his mate right behind them. You could have cried from happiness. The whole pack was here together. They could end this right now. 

You ran with the others, “Do the boys know?” 

The witch smiled, sweat dripping down her face, “More and then some. My magic is running out, I have only so much left. But everything is coming to plan.” 

You didn’t question it, just nodding and rushing to your mate. 

E’s smirk dropped seeing Niki and his mate join in, and then frowned seeing each female stand by their mate. 

“What are you plotting?!” he snapped, eyeing down Heeseung as the queen pressed her back to her king’s chest. 

“What?” Heeseung smirked, wrapping his hand to the front of his mate's neck and tilting her head to the side, exposing her neck and leaning down, “You think we don’t have anyways to communicate?” 

E whipped his head around to Sunghoon and the witch, smirked lined both their faces as Sunghoon’s hand tilted his mate's head to the side, his fangs coming to a point, “We always find a way,” he said, then sank his teeth into his mate's neck, her lips parting from the pressure of his fangs digging in, his free hand gripping her waist as he sucked in her blood. 

Jay pressed your back to his chest, one hand on your jaw and the other on your hip. His mouth watered at the very thought of drinking your blood again, eyes crimson and fangs fully pointed, “I love you,” he whispered into your ear then pierced your skin, squeezing you tightly as he inhaled your blood. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated over and over to himself, wishing he could repeat it down the bond or verbally to you. But you knew, you could feel it in the way he held you close. 

Each male one by one bit into their mate's neck, every female glaring E down as the males regained their strength. 

Heeseung finished first, exhaling with pleasure as he licked the dripping blood from his mate's wounds before they closed up. His eyes are now burning holes into E. 

“Ha! What do you think drinking from your mates will do?” E snapped. 

Niki cracked his knuckles, “Gives me plenty of strength to beat your ass for locking us ten feet under the damned castle.” 

“It’s not just drinking from our mates,” Heeseung said, twirling his blades, “You really need to stop dismissing our magic users.” 

E narrows his eyes, slowly turning to look at the witch and elf, both females snapping their fingers, colorful auras surrounding each of the boys. 

“What did you girls do?” E snarled. 

The witch looks up at Sunghoon, ice crystals forming at his hands, “We gave them a power boost,” she said. 

The elf leaned against Sunoo, his index fingers twirling in a circle, and rocks from the ground started floating up and circling his fingers, “After our second in command’s mate showed off her new abilities, we decided to do research and dig deep into our mate’s auras and gave them a boost.” 

Jake snapped his fingers and fire flicked from the tip of his index finger, a chuckle leaving his lips, “Always knew I had a fire within me.” His dhampir mate rolled her eyes but kept herself pressed against him anyway, a massive smile on her face. 

Niki unfolded his hands, palming facing the sky as darkness floated out of it, his eyes locked on E. 

Jay flexed his hands, a smirk spreading on his lips. He was stronger. So much stronger. 

E fixed his eyes between Jungwon and Heeseung, then laughed, “Guess the two of you aren’t so special huh?” 

Heeseung smiled and placed his index and middle finger on his temple, “Jungwon?” 

Jungwon was immediately at his king’s side in a flash. It was so fast you didn’t even see him move. Vampires already have super speed, but now Jungwon topped that speed. Even E was in shock, his eyes widening now seeing Jungwon resting his arm on Heeseung’s shoulder. 

His eyes locked onto Heeseung, “I am assuming you can communicate with them now.” 

Keeping his fingers to his temple, he cocked his head to the side, glancing at his pack members one by one, “Let’s end him.” 

E wasn’t ready for the rush of all fourteen of you. Each of the male’s powers threw him off along with the leftover magic both the witch and elf had that they were sending his way. You, the dhampir, Archer, Niki’s mate, and the queen rushed him too, swinging your weapons left and right at him in turns with the boys. E was panicking, and it was going to be his downfall. 

E wasn’t expecting this. His whole plan was to tire them out and pick’em off one by one. He already knew Heeseung had guards in his corner. But he figured with the youngest ones not around they would falter and break. But that wasn’t the case. 

He couldn’t keep up with their blows. With the ice, fire, darkness, strength, speed, gravity, their weapons, magic, and Heeseung leading them telepathically. All he could do was smirk, he underestimated the king and his pack. 

Heeseung’s pack was already known to other packs on how powerful they were when it was just the seven of them. E knew the truth all along that it was because Heeseung was secretly the king. But now seeing how unified this pack was with their new powers and mates, they being a powerhouse still holds true. Even if Heeseung wasn’t king, these fourteen would still be the most powerful. 

And he was an idiot to think he could break them one by one. 

But he kept fighting anyway, praying for that small ounce of hope that he’d come out on top. That little confidence landed his hand on your neck, squeezing tightly and digging his nails into your skin. 

The world seemed to have slowed down for Jay, his heart rate racing at seeing E’s grip on you and the way he lifted you up in the air. 

“You’re the one Dorian almost killed,” E laughed with a tilt of his head, “Even with the scars gone I can still see them burning deep within.” 

You gripped your hands onto his wrist, clawing at his skin in hopes of breaking free. You were losing oxygen and fast, gasping for air while fighting against him. 

Jay’s jaw locked, feeling that string of fate connected to you loosening. 

“Jay,” Heeseung warned, “Don’t do anything stupid!” 

“He has my mate!” Jay snapped and without a second thought, he rushed forward. 

E laughed, moving quickly in time with Jay. 

The only thing that could be heard now was your screams as E’s sword split down Jay’s chest and exited his back. 

Blood dripped down his body and out his mouth, but Jay kept his eyes locked on E, “You’re the cause of my mate almost dying!” Jay screamed, using his strength to break the sword in half and swing his blade to completely cut E’s arm off. 

The pain of losing his limb forced his grip on you to drop, sending you back to the ground and hands reaching for your throat to regain air. 

One moment you were beside them, and the next you were away, Jungwon handing you over to the queen and rushing back, “Jay!!” you tried to scream, seeing your mate drop to one knee as he gripped the blade of the sword and pulled it out of his body. 

Jungwon grabbed E’s remaining arm and pulled it, breaking it out of his socket. E’s screams now fill the battlefield. 

Sunghoon slammed his fists to the ground, freezing E’s knees down to keep him from moving. Niki stood behind him, placing his hands to the side of his face and pressing the darkness against his senses, him losing sight. 

Heeseung rushed over, blade in hand, and shoved it into E’s chest, “This is for forcing my pack and me out of hiding,” he pulled the blade out and thrust it back in, “This is for when Dorian almost killed YN,” he repeated the actions, listing off each thing E has caused towards his pack. Each thing that led to the events of today. One by one getting his revenge in. 

Jay pulled himself to his feet, taking Heeseung’s other blade and pressing it to E’s neck, the sizzling of his skin being music to Jay’s ears, “This is for almost killing my brothers and putting my mate through the bullshit she had to go through.” 

E just smirked through the pain, “Haaaaa, what do you plan to do now that you’ve killed the entirety of the royal guard beside the small amount that follows you, false king?” 

Jay looked at Niki, signaling him to remove the darkness from E’s eyes, forcing him to look at him, “We will remain as the strongest pack, keeping Heeseung in power.” 

E laughed again, “That will only go so far.” 

Jay shrugged, pressing the blade deeper into his skin, “We will break the chain you all created.” 

E’s smirk fell and it was such a sight to see from Jay. And Jay’s face would be the last thing E will ever see. Using his strength, Jay sent the blade through, gripping the top of E’s head and ripping it from his body.

“Jake!” Heeseung commend. Jake throws a ball of flames at the body. The fourteen of you watching it burn to ashes. Jay took a final look at E’s head and then tossed it into the flames. 

It was over. 

It was all over. 

Jay fell back to his knees, head spinning from the blood loss from the wounds. You were at his side immediately, screaming for the witch and elf and Heeseung to do something quickly.

The three of them patched Jay up while the remaining of the royal guard killed off the rest of E’s army, leaving an abundance of vampire bodies on the castle grounds. 

You held Jay close, “You did it, Jongseong.” 

He cupped your face and gave you a weak smile, “It’s over.” 

“Not yet,” the king said, looking over the dead bodies, “We need to take care of this mess and fast.” 

Jake smirked, “Leave it to me.” 

The bodies were piled into the castle, Jake unleashing flames from both hands as he set the castle ablaze. Not leaving a single part untouched by his flames. 

The fourteen of you watched the castle burn. The males held onto their mates tightly. 

Heeseung, Jay, and Jake felt nothing as they watched the castle that completely ruined their lives burn into rumble. Nothing but terrible fucking memories lay there. They can all burn. Completely burn. 

Jay finally took his eyes off the burning castle and looked down at you, staring at the part of your neck Dorian once sunk his teeth into, draining you completely of life before tossing you over that cliff. In a way, Jay was thankful the world turned out the way it did because he got you out of it. He’d still watch the world burn for what it did to you. But he had you for forever, and for that he was happy. 

He pulled you closer to him, pressing his lips to your head. 

“What now?” the queen asked, folding her arms on top of Heeseung’s that were wrapped around her.

Heeseung looked at the burning castle, then up at the sky, seeing the beautiful orange that came through from the rising sun, “I have an idea.”

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