#miss your rebel curls

[cityzenchick]

Out of sight is not out of mind Mr Stones .... we really miss you ...... (and so does Ruben!) 😔

[fayes-fics]

Rebel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You only wanted a quiet refuge away from the ball, you got a lot more than that…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, rake!Anthony, innocent!reader, frottage incl. clit stimulation through clothing, female and male orgasms.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: For all the Anthony fans, sorry it's been so long since I posted a fic for him alone. I don't recall where this idea originated from other than my wanting to do a trapped-together trope for him. It turned out sweeter than I expected tbh. Thanks to @colettebronte for an awesome betaing, as always. Enjoy! <3

You are grateful to find a little oasis of calm. A small storage room that is cool, dark and quiet—a world away from the loud, stuffy ballroom. The perfect hideout from the undesirable whirlwind of your first-ever society event, escaping your aunt’s clutches at an opportune moment as she was detained by a verbose member of the Ton. Slumped against the wall, shoes removed, and eyes closed, you finally find a calm reverie, your flushed skin cooling….

Until that is, your refuge is rudely invaded.

There is a shaft of almost blinding light and then a whirlwind of movement. The door makes an odd clicking noise as it is practically slammed shut again. 

And then a deep, wracked sigh that is decidedly male.

All of your serenity evaporates, a prickle over your skin at the realisation you are not alone. In fact, you are unchaperoned in a darkened room with an unknown man. 

Fretting for a few moments, you know it's impossible to slip past him unnoticed. So you hope you can stay quiet enough and pray he will leave again shortly. Perhaps it's the darkness that heightens his hearing; maybe it's that you are unable to silence your breathing sufficiently in such a small room, but your hope is instantly dashed.

“Who is there?” his voice rings out loudly, and you wince, knowing it's probably pointless to stay silent but seemingly unwilling to speak.

There is the rasp of a match being struck, and then a tiny flame appears to illuminate the lines of a face. It looks youthful, handsome, well-bred… and very annoyed.

“What in God’s name are you doing in here? And who are you?” He questions as he swings the flame around, looking for a sconce to light, making a quiet sound of victory as he locates one near the door.

“I…I came to escape.” Your confession is easier with his back turned as he lights the fixture. “I'm Miss y/l/n. And you are?”  

He guffaws as he faces you again. “Hah …”

“Did I say something amusing?” you squint slightly as you adjust to the light after considerable minutes alone in the dark.

“I believe you did...” he chuckles, bemused that you do not instantly recognise him. “Well, ‘tis of little consequence,” he sniffs, “as this is occupied, I shall bid you adieu and find a different private space….”

It appears he was looking for escape as much as you. But, what he probably hoped would be his parting words, accompanied as they are by a brusque nod, turn out to be anything but. 

The polished brass door knob spins in his grip, but the door does not relent, staying firmly within its frame. He tries a few more times before huffing and starting to rattle it more insistently. Then, beginning to lean into the door with his weight as if hoping that would shift it.

The door opens inward, idiot… you roll your eyes unseen, assuming the man is playing a prank at first. But the more he repeats the same move, each a shade more frantic than the last, the more you realise it is perhaps not a comedic bit.

“We are stuck?!” You check, indignance flaring. The door was just fine before he got here.

“It would appear so, Miss,” not pausing in his actions as he answers, a curl of hair flopping rather fetchingly over his forehead.

You start to pace back and forth, only a few steps possible in the small room, but an overwhelming need to move to dissipate the nerves creeping up your spine.

“Well, bang on the door then!” you gesticulate, forgetting any manners in your growing disquiet.

“Outspoken...” he pauses to mutter under his breath, but it’s begrudging respect more than chastisement. He starts to do exactly as you suggest: pound his fist on the door and call out for anyone. He presses his ear to the door, hoping to hear an approach. When there appears to be none, he repeats. “You could help, you know…” he throws out pointedly, side-eyeing you.

“Tis not becoming of a lady…” you counter sarcastically.

“Neither is ordering me around, but you seemed to have no issue in that regard,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow that calls your bluff and has you springing to his aid.

With both of you thumping on the door, you hope discovery is imminent, but after a few attempts, no one comes to assist. 

“Urghh! The ball is likely too loud, and this corridor too seldom visited,” you surmise.

“Most likely,” he concedes, a flash of what looks like admiration flitting across his features. “Perhaps we will need to remain in here until the ball is quieter.”

“That could be hours; my aunt will wonder where I am,” you slump your head into your hands before moving to pace again.

“Then maybe she will dispatch a search party. You are not the first debutante to hide in a storage closet, believe me. This may well be the first place they come looking.”

“Not exactly ideal, or did you forget it would be a scandal if we are found here together?!” you point out tartly.

Again, there is a flash of something over his face, as if he enjoys it when you behave the very opposite of polite.

“Of course, I did not,” he gruffs, then softens his countenance. “I shall conceal myself in that alcove behind the door,” he gestures to the corner where, indeed, there is an almost hidden indent in the wall. “Your search party shall be none the wiser. I can make my escape once the coast is clear.”

His suggestion immediately assuages you, believing the sincerity in his tone. There is a beat as you both nod to each other as if sealing this pact.

“You still have not told me your name…” a need to know it after this gentlemanly gesture.

“You honestly do not know?” prompting an attractive furrow between his eyebrows.

“No. This is my first ball. I am here at the behest of my maternal aunt. I have no earthly idea who most of these people are,” you huff, gesturing towards the jammed door.

“Some may argue lucky for you….” his response laced with amusement before he squares his shoulders to continue. “Bridgerton. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.”

“Oh…”

If there is one name your cousin has warned you about before tonight, it's the Bridgerton brothers. All handsome, rich, intelligent… and very unlikely to take a wife. It would be wiser to howl at the moon than expect the pursuit of a Bridgerton—her stark words of warning echoing in your mind as you sense him observing you curiously. Your response is obviously not what he expected, that forehead crease reappearing. 

“Oh?” he mimics. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“I am… aware of your family…” You confess, unsure what else to say.

“It does not sound a pleasant recollection,” he astutely surmises. “Am I to assume my family has done yours some harm?”

“No!” you reply quickly. “Nothing of that nature…”.

“Then what?... Out with it!” a mild irritation rising as you hesitate.

“My cousin warned me about the Bridgerton brothers,” you blurt out.

He barks a brief laugh but takes a step closer, his stance relaxing and gaining a swagger.

“Oh, did she now?” his voice changed; deeper, smokier, firing something in your belly.

“Yes…” it's your turn to square your shoulders, crossing your arms defensively for good measure. The trouble is, it just draws attention to your breasts. You don't miss the way his eyes flick down briefly.

“What did she tell you?” he seems to move inexorably closer, dark eyes sparkling in the low candlelight.

“That I should not seek a dance with you,” you admit, seemingly unable to avoid answering this man truthfully.

“And why might that be?” his cadence almost a rumble now.

“You are not marriage material.”

“And is that what you want? Marriage?” Skillfully deflecting an admission it’s true.

“It’s what’s expected of me. What I may or may not want is irrelevant,” you sniff.

“What a pity. I think what you truly want may be something far more… interesting,” Anthony’s tone is like velvet as he draws closer, towering over you. Your body responds almost against your will, a flush running down your torso, a tingle in your arms.

“Irrelevant,” you repeat, as you defiantly glare up at him, heartbeat racing.

“Is it…?”

He seems to know you want this precisely because it's what you should not be doing. The tempting taste of rebellion wrapped up in a handsome face.

A warm hand rounds your elbow, and his lips suddenly brush your ear.  “Also, it seems unfair to condemn me a rake based on the words of another, does it not? Should a man not get the chance to defend himself? Surely you are of sound enough mind to draw your own conclusions?” 

The irony of attempting to defend himself against the accusation while acting the archetypal rake is not lost on you, even as you fight every twitch in your body, a want to grab and be grabbed, almost an itch on your skin.

“Your current actions, my lord, do not exactly dispute her assessment,” you counter boldly, pleased you can tamp the waver in your voice.

His laugh is a warm gust down your neck that makes you shiver.

“Perhaps not,” he concedes, “and yet… here you still are…” 

You can’t argue with that. You could indeed easily move away, his hold on your elbow symbolic…. No, it’s that you most definitely don’t want to.

“You are a rake,” you murmur, even as your lips brush his cheekbone.

“And you like it…” he breathes raggedly, skittering across your skin as your heart pounds in your ears.

God, if that isn’t the truth.

“Do I?” you sass and pull back a few inches.

Anthony’s nostrils flare, and his eyes flash. The pluckier you get, the more it riles him up and reels him in.

“There is something you could teach all the other debutantes out there,” he tilts his head to one side and reaches for the dance card tied to your wrist, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Enlighten me…”

“That a feisty young woman is far more attractive than a demure, meek girl,” he breathes, a finger now tracing the ribbon on the card, lingering on the delicate skin of your wrist.

“So you can domesticate a free spirit?” you sneer disapprovingly.

“Oh no, no. The very opposite. To let her run wild…” his fingers trail up your forearm, causing goosebumps in their wake, your breath quickening. Then he leans in, his lips by your ear again, breath hot “....and hang on tight because that will be the ride of your damn life.”

“Rake,” you murmur.

“Rebel,” he rumbles in return, goading.

Exhilaration makes you turn a fraction into his cheek, and it’s the permission he needs, moving to capture your lips with his. 

Fireworks explode in your body as, for the first time, a man kisses you. And not just a peck. No, it's a soft, sensual dance at first, his lips warm and wet, opening yours and inviting you to take it further. And you do. Grab his jacket sleeves, feeling the muscular outline of his biceps underneath as his hands move to grasp your waist and haul you against his body. The kiss turns hot and electric, his tongue entwining with yours, you following his motions, a flash of heat spiking through you as if struck by some powerful force. He pulls back, breaking the kiss, both of you breathing hard and staring at each other. 

“Tell me to stop…” he challenges, but everything in his demeanour tells you it's the opposite of what he wants. And it's definitely not what you want.

You bite your lip and shake your head.

There is a noise, male, hungry, utterly arousing, and then he is back on you. Kissing like wildfire and walking you backwards against the wall, velour wallpaper tickling the skin of your shoulders where your dress scoops lower. His hands are hot through the thin silk of your gown, grasping your waist and pulling you into him. His mouth tastes of whiskey, a hint of smoke and something earthy that is sinful.

“What do you want to know?” he asks teasingly, his mouth ghosting over yours. “Do you wish to know a man’s body, to know pleasure, or possibly both?” 

Each option sounds wonderful, tempting, perfect even. But there is one that trips from your tongue.

“Pleasure,” you answer greedily, feeling selfish to continue chasing this fizzing effervescence you have inside, both sweeter and tarter than any champagne.

“Mmm, I thought you might say that,” he chuckles, nuzzling your cheek. 

“Next question. And I shall offer no clues as to what this might mean if you do not know already…. But do you want…” he pauses to swipe his tongue sinfully into your mouth, “tongue…” he breathes, pulling away a fraction, “or…” his hand cups your chin, then two fingers push between your lips, an earthy, smoky taste from holding cigars now lingering on your tongue, “...fingers.”

Instinctively, you close your mouth around the invading digits and suckle lightly, his eyes flaring, and a groan catches in his throat.

1“Good god, I wish you had said you want to know a man….”

You have no idea what he might be referring to, but you can't resist suckling harder on his fingertips, feeling wanton but enjoying the power you seem to hold over him in this moment, his entire dazzling focus on you.

“You did not answer my question, y/n,” he scolds gently, slowly removing his fingers from your mouth and trailing your saliva over your own throat.

“Whatever you will,” you breathe, already missing him in your mouth as his fingers trail lower, leaving a dampness over the swell of your breast that makes your breath quicken.

His lips are back on yours, demanding, plundering kisses that have you wanting more. So much more. As he pulls away, his lips are red and damp, and his dark eyes intense, sparkling in the candlelight.

“Perhaps my fingers are best, for this circumstance at least,” he opines, sounding a touch reluctant, “less incriminating should we be swiftly interrupted…”

Part of you wishes there was some furniture you could push against the door so no one could disturb you, let him do whatever - everything - he wants. Because if it makes you feel anything like what you do now, you’d know you would allow it, consequences and propriety be damned.

“Pull up your dress,” he orders lowly, his lips on your cheek.

He makes a tiny noise of approval as you put your hands at your hips and grab handfuls of your dress and chemise until the hem is high above your knees, looping the fabric over your forearms, the air cool on your thighs. He drops a little soft kiss upon the shell of your ear as if to reward your obedience.

But then you gasp as suddenly his hand slides down your front and cups between your legs, so much heat through the thin layer of your silk undergarment. He makes an approving noise, apparently liking what he finds, pulling your earlobe into his mouth and grazing it softly with his teeth. Two of his fingers drag achingly slowly against the soft material. Your skin seems as if it could vibrate straight off your body and you cling to him, eyes going wide at the intensity from just a light touch.

“So perfectly responsive”, he gusts. “I almost forgot how very beguiling an innocent can be… and such a keen one at that.”

You can tell from his inflexion it's intended as a compliment; he seems so very charmed by your willingness. And you are so very eager for him, for the sensations he is wringing from your body never to cease. As those fingers keep stroking, your mouth is slack, and you press your breasts into him, wanting no inch of your body away from his. His lips are hot on your cheekbone, the other arm caged around you. 

He doesn't make any move to discard your underwear. Instead, he just keeps stroking over a spot between your legs that is rapidly swelling under his touch, viscous warm liquid leaking into the silky material and seeping through onto his fingers.

“Perfect,” he growls and moves faster.

“It feels so different…” you gulp, then clarify, “...to when I touch myself.”

He inhales sharply, his eyes flashing dark, and his fingers curl more insistent against your nub.

“You do this to yourself? An innocent?” He looks unbridled now with both admiration and lust.

You just nod, biting your lip.

“My perfect little rebel….” he lauds.

He is huffing into your hairline now, scenting you as you writhe instinctually on his questing fingers. Someone else’s touch is a magnified experience of what you have done alone before. This is wholly other: another human with you in this moment, him panting with desire, his body heat seeping through clothing, his fingers calloused in a way that catches perfectly on your swollen flesh as his resonant voice and smoky mint breath pleads with you not to stop. 

Grabbing onto his lapel, needing an anchor, you stare up into his deep brown eyes, the look on his face utterly triumphal, his lips lowering to cover yours, breathing each other’s air. Something hard pressing into your hip bone as you ride boldly upon his fingers now. A shiver runs up your spine at how good this is, little sparks firing from the pinpoint of pleasure between your legs. The coiled spring of desire is so much more profound with him, a delicious tension in your whole being. He keeps muttering low words of praise of how well you are doing, and how beautiful you look. Your skin flushes with arousal and exertion, and a bead of wetness runs down your inner thigh just as you are climbing to that point of no return. 

Suddenly, he withdraws his touch, your responding whine trailing off as his fingers swipe through that trickle of moisture. Then you stare transfixed as he brings it up to his mouth and sucks the dewiness from his fingertips, a hungry noise hitching in his throat as he does. It makes you desperate for him, for this. To reach that pinnacle with him. A burning want to do it time and time again. To find your pleasure with him, for him. To experience everything that can happen between a man and a woman.

“I want to know a man too,” you exhale unevenly, not able to censor your wayward thoughts, your abandoned clit throbbing hard in your soaked underwear.

He groans, the vibration of it quaking through him and that hand now cups your jaw. “By god, you will,” he asserts roughly, and you can smell traces of your arousal on his fingers as he leans in and kisses you deeply, the flavour of it tart on his tongue.

“Please touch me again…” your voice a broken plea.

His smile is devilish handsomeness personified, as he does just as you ask. You cry out over his lips as he expertly swipes over that spot again, rubbing even faster now. Rocketing you right back to the point where you have to cling to him, your knees buckling.

His other hand snakes around your body and grabs your breast through your dress. It makes you groan loudly, a yearning for him to strip off the layers, rip away your stays and snag your pebbled nipple between his teeth.

“What are you thinking?” he demands hotly, and you realise your face must give away something of your licentious wishes.

“I want your mouth on my breasts,” you confess the truth raggedly, riding his fingers again, whimpering and moaning with each expert flick of his fingers.

He growls, more untamed creature than man, and he pinches you through the layers, seemingly knowing exactly where your nipple is. The sensation, even though dulled through cotton and silk, makes you shudder and call out loudly. To the point he hushes you, deciding next to swallow your cries with kisses. Stealing your breath with his tongue as his fingers swirl in a rough circle between your legs, a drag that is so delicious, it hurls you right over the edge you skate and into oblivion.

Your whole body convulses, him pressing you into the wall to stay upright, your lungs tight as you scream your release into his mouth, vision swimming, a complete fuzziness as you float away. Nothing like you have experiences alone, a hundred times more visceral, carnal—utterly addictive.

As you return to the room, he is rutting himself against your hip bone, a solid mass between his legs. The feral nature of his movements awakens something in you, and you grasp his neck and pull him down to your lips.

“Do it,” you challenge through gritted teeth. 

Wanting him to reach his peak as much as you just have. Not yet understanding fully what is happening, but everything between your legs clenching and aching for something you can't articulate as he follows your bidding and ruts himself against you furiously now, grunting. You kiss him with ferocity and reach around to grab his shapely rear to encourage his movements. 

That’s the catalyst he needs, and, with an almost howl, he stills, pressed harshly into you, his face contorted, slack-jawed, and you feel a bloom of warmth through the wool of his trousers.

There are no words spoken for a few moments, just harsh breathing, the air heavy with the tang of sex. Then he moves to cup your face tenderly, closing his eyes and tilting his forehead on yours.

“Good god,” he sounds gravelly, sated, floored. “I….”

But he is interrupted by the sound of the door handle being jiggled violently, making you both spring apart lightning fast, clothing being rapidly rearranged. The door finally relents, and a footman’s face appears in the crack. He likely can surmise, and perhaps indeed scent, what has just transpired. 

“I wondered where you had got to, Sir,” he clears his throat, “but then I was passing by and knew this had to be you,” a barely contained smirk suggesting he could well have been guarding the door for a while.

“Jenkins!” Anthony’s relief is palpable. 

“The carriage, Sir, I presume?” he offers pointedly.

“Yes, please,” Anthony nods. As the man disappears, leaving the door ajar, Anthony’s hand slips into yours. Then, in a tone that brokers no argument - not that you have an ounce of interest in doing so - he declares, “You, my delicious little rebel, are coming with me….” 

masterlist • wips • taglist (must be following this blog to be tagged)

Anthony taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @delehosies @m-rae23 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies @urfavnoirette @cinnamoodles @blackdxggr @alexandrainlove @witty-wallflower @black-kitten-imagines @detectiveviridian @themadhattersqueen @tinypinkdragon @fudge13 @fanfiction-she-wrote

[revelboo]

First part of my blokees shipment is in the country, u really are a master planner of propaganda 😂

I'll showcase what I scored if anything fun comes up

Nice! They’re just so little and cute

It Had To Be You Pt 11

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Venting softly as he notices your unfinished food, he grits his denta. This again? What exactly do you hope to accomplish by refusing to eat? Mass shifting, he bends to pick up the full tray and stalks your way, optics narrowing as you tense like you’re considering bolting. “Don’t you dare,” he growls and your eyes narrow in answer. Lunging to hook an arm around your middle as you scramble to your feet to run anyway. He’d almost swear you enjoy this game, struggling angrily against his grip as he sits heavily with you across his lap. “Stop acting like a sparkling.”

• “I’m not hungry,” you snap, trying to kick the tray out of his other hand as he pins you against him, a palm splayed against your belly, servos flexing on you. Fighting even though you know what’s coming. Feeling it buzz through you to lift the fine hair at the your nape when he snarls. You’re pretty sure he’s swearing at you in Cybertronian as he drops the tray with a clatter and pins you more firmly against his chassis, his chin resting on top of your head and all the fight just drains out of you as he holds you, his arms curling around you like a lover would. Your body and mind at odds with each other. One whispering that this is where you belong, the other screaming. “I’m not hungry,” you repeat, the words sounding sullen even to your own ears. You’re just so tired of hating him and needing him. It’s like you’re coming apart day by day fighting him and yourself.

• “You’ll eat anyway,” he growls, spark constricting as you just lay against him, hating that it’s like this. That you’re like this even as he understands why. Reaching to tug the tray closer, he picks up a strip of cooked meat and offers it to you, holding it an inch from your lips as you tense against him. “I’ll hold you down if I have to.” It’s a threat, but it’s sincere. You can find some other way to rebel against him besides trying to starve yourself. Sighing, you open up for him, lips brushing the tips of his servos as you take the bite to make him shudder. “Is being here so awful?” He doesn’t mean to ask, because your anger can only hurt him and he knows it. Is it so much to ask for you to feel anything for him? Any affection, not just physical need?

• “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.” It’s a lie and you know it. Even if he let you go, you’re not sure that you could make yourself walk away from him. That longing pulling at you, would stop you in your tracks. And even if you somehow forced yourself to keep going, to run? That warmth that’s him would fade away to just leave a hollow ache over time. Missing something you’d never even wanted to begin with. Trapped by something you don’t understand. The arm still curled around you tenses, but he doesn’t have an angry comeback this time, just silently offers you another bite of food. Venting against your neck as you let him feed you, hurting because all of this is wrong. The safety you feel in his arms, his fake concern, it’s all a lie to trap you.

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[thetxtdevil]

Playdate with Kitty Tyun

Cat!Taehyun x Puppy!Reader

quick thought, nsfw/mdni, hybrid content, mostly gender neutral

you and tae weren't great friends at first. his cat instincts instantly did not understand the energetic, happy go lucky puppy side of you. did not like how loud you were, your feet stomped everywhere, even your tail wagged loudly. you of course try hard to be at least acquaintances since your owners were friends with one another. it wasn't like you were too fond of tyun either. his stupid pretty face, how his shiny hair was getting too long that it was hiding the nice chocolate color of his pointy ears, he was so annoying with his smarts telling you what to do.

you'd always rebel with his commands, but one day you finally cave in. you were being loud and dancing everywhere mostly because you were bored. "Y/N! just sit down and read a book." tae says smacking the cushion next to him. you sigh flobbing down, "what book do i read though?" tae tosses a book to you, one that seemed to be opened a few too many times. the spine was bent to the point the pages were about to fall out, you scoff but decided to read.

after that you really enjoyed your quiet, scholarly reading time with tyun. you had a positive outcome from it because after you both finish a book you two have a discussions about it. you enjoy the smooth tone of tae's voice and how his tail swishes behind him when he does something he enjoys.

one wintery day, both of your owners decided to go out and leave you two at home. the place was cold, all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and nap, but tyun insisted that you should read a book he finished, so you did. tired eyes drag across the words and something seems off. was it because tae let you sit right up against him? or was it because this book he gave you was a... romance genre???

his tail sways, every so often swirling around your shoulder catching onto your hair. your eyes begin to read the words faster and faster. you start to shift in your spot. "you can get more comfortable," he says. you trusted him and snuggled closer to him, legs draped over his, your arm looped around his causing the cat to purr. you smile at him softly and he lets you pet his soft brown ears. however, the more you read, the more you couldn't settle. this book, it's- it's smut...

too invested by the book you miss the mischievous grin on tae's face. he glances to you, then to your thighs which were instinctively rubbing together, he could smell you. "what's wrong puppy, don't like the book you're reading?"

"oh no its quite good," you say with an innocent smile, but you really wanted to scream your lungs out, yelling at the man as to why he gave you porn in book format.

"oh really??" tyun tosses his book to the side, his hands graze your thighs making you shiver, "is it just good to read or is it doing something else?" you gasp at his touches, you felt needy before, but now you really need his touches to go further.

one thing leads to another, and now both books are long forgotten, and both of you were naked. tyun swiftly flips you on your stomach and manhandles your hips up showing off your ass to him. "oh puppy, so sensitive to just a few words," he say as his hard cock grinds against you, "what are you going to do when a cat breeds you?"

all you do is whine, thats all you could do as tae shoves your face down into the cushions. his nibble fingers graze your puppy ears making a shiver run down your spine. then his hands stroke up your back and grabs your wagging tail causing you to yelp. your arms lift you up so that you could turn your head and yell at him. when you do so your words lose themselves as you notice his tail swishing behind him telling you he likes this. before you could say anything about that he shoves his dick into you leaving no time to get used to the sharp pain. fucking you dumb, tears and drool seep into the cushions. tyun's fast pace slows down, he leans over your back and that is when you feel his canines puncture the skin of your shoulder making you cum the same time as him.

yeah,,, you two didn't know how to explain the mess you made when your owners came back, but at least you two had another thing to agree on.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @soobabby

[mothiir]

homecoming

For @remembrancer-of-heresy

Hope this is okay ! I’m not completely pleased with it but if I don’t publish it now I never will.

cw: threats of cannibalism, dubcon.

Sevatar, like all his brothers, is accustomed to a war fought from the shadows: striking into the soft underbelly of the foe, departing like mist at dawn, leaving them to find the strung-up bodies of their children in the rafters, and warnings daubed in blood on the floor. If you do not obey the Emperor, you earn his justice — so goes a somewhat tongue-in-cheek saying from Nostramo, for only the most starry-eyed idiots of the legion truly believe that what they do is just. 

To be a Night Lord is to be a killer: a defiler, a flenser of flesh, a bane of the innocent. Sevatar has known this to be true since the moment he took the midnight; indeed, he knew before that, when he was naught but a neophyte, battling for scraps with his brothers, all fresh-grown muscle and sharp teeth. 

He knows who he is, and he feels no shame in it. He knows what sort of war he is bred to fight, and he feels no shame in that either — the term ‘fair fight’ is a tune that means nothing, sung only by fools. 

And yet there are times — like this — when he cannot help but bemoan his lot just a little. This campaign is challenging; they face not an isolated world in rebellion, but a confederation stretching across worlds. A whole system, grown complacent and fat through Imperial protection. They stopped paying their tithe, and the Emperor was merciful, sending a diplomatic envoy to explain the error of their ways. 

The diplomats were executed as the red sun rose, and the message could not have been clearer: we do not want your peace. 

And so the Emperor had sent Konrad, instructing him to keep as much of the infrastructure intact as possible — this is a valuable system, rich with resources, with cities that span entire continents. This is no barbarous benighted rock, which Mortarion can scour clean with his latest pet virus, or the Lion can turn to charred rubble. 

No: this operation requires a scalpel.

All of this to say, that Sevatar has been busy these last few weeks. Skipping from world to world, with barely time to clean his blades between kills. He led his claw from assasination to assasination: flaying some noble in his quarters, leaving his lover to wake up beside a red raw corpse; obliterating an entire barracks worth of elite soldiers, sparing only one to carry the story on. He has not stopped; he has not rested. He has subsisted only on nutrient paste and the occasional bite of one of the rebels.

By the time he’s arrived back in his quarters he’s half-delirious with exhaustion, ravenous, and twitching with the desire to gut something. You’re sprawled out on his bed, snoring softly. It’s unusual to see you splayed about like that; whenever he is around you curl in on yourself, knees to chest, forehead to hands. 

Seeing you sprawled out, legs akimbo, hair sticking a little to your face…it’s decadent. Saliva pools in his mouth. You’re the most appetizing thing he’s seen in weeks, and he focuses on removing his armour to avoid doing something he will probably end up regretting. 

He murmurs the rites to appease the machine spirits of his armour as he disrobes; unlike other legions. Night Lords wear armour designed to be removed without the assistance of a tech-priest. No son of Nostramo worth his salt wants to be dependent on another for help clambering in and out of the suit that will save his life. 

The bodysuit is left in an ignoble pile of fabric by the bed. You’ll pick it up in the morning, tidy it away. He missed that when he was on campaign; those tiny insignificant acts you perform that make his life that much easier. 

Not that he needs you there, of course. It’s just pleasant not to have to think about these things. 

The only light in the room is the faint neon lights from the power-cables running along the walls; but to his eyes, it’s bright enough to see you in intricate detail. The slight downy hair on your cheeks; the movement of your eyes beneath your lids. Your breathing, steady and slow. 

He sniffs along the curve of your neck, your skin goose-pimpling at his exhalations. You smell sweet as cinnamon. He’s careful to suppress his Betcher’s Gland, not wanting to drizzle acid onto your flesh — but he is still drooling. Moisture drips onto your shoulder, runs down towards your clavicle. You twitch at the movement, starting to blink towards wakefulness. He hears your heart-rate change, speeding up; your scent spikes with delicious stress-hormones. This does nothing to assuage his hunger — fear makes every meal that much sweeter.

“Shhhh,” he breathes, his nose buried in your hair. “Do not leap away.”

His blood is up; he has more control than most, but he is still a hunter. Should you bolt like a prey-animal — well. He cannot be responsible for his instincts. 

You’re well-trained. You freeze at once, every limb rigid. “My lord,” you whisper. “Welcome home.”

He hums softly, still sniffing along your throat. The blue of your jugular is a tempting velvet ribbon, begging to be torn open and sucked dry. 

“Welcome me properly,” he coos. He’s teasing, though you would be forgiven for thinking it a threat. The hissing cadence of his voice always sounds like it promises swift violence. ”Like I showed you.”

You’ve been in his keeping for a little over two months, plenty of time to learn precisely how he likes you — and you’re a quick study. Without a moment of hesitation, you roll onto your belly, lifting your hips up in clear invitation. Your spine is one elegant curve. He runs his fingers along it, feeling the knobs of your vertebrae through the thin fabric of your nightgown, reminding himself that you’d make a brief meal —

(—a delicious meal—)

— a brief and unfulfilling meal and then he would have no one to arrange his bodysuit or polish his armour or swallow his cock down at the end of a long day. 

He plants a kiss just behind your ear, before reorientating himself, kneeling behind you, dragging you into the V his thighs make. He flips your nightgown up, revealing soft, plush flesh — and your cunt, hidden away. He never gets tired of the sight of your cunt before he wrecks it: pink and soft and small, and yet capable of taking so much. His thumbs dig into the cleft of your arse as his fingers splay down your thighs. 

“You’re so tiny,” he says, half to himself, pressing your cheeks together and pulling them apart once more, just to see how your cunt twitches and stretches. “You’d barely be a mouthful.”

Your body floods with cortisol; your heart rate spikes. Testament to your self control — and survival instinct — you do not attempt to squirm free. Instead, you go limp: utterly pliant. Fight, flight, freeze: those are the options humans pick from, when all else has been stripped from them. All those ancient chemicals squirting around in your amygdala, keeping your pretty heart beating. 

“My lord,” you say, your voice a little muffled against his bedding. “I don’t think —“

”Hush. I’m not planning to make a meal of you,” he says — but immediately contradicts himself, sinking his fangs into the warm flesh of your upper thigh. You stifle a scream into your palms. Normally, he’d rebuke you for that — he likes the miserable squeaky noises you utter — but he’s too busy sampling fear-ripe blood, swallowing down a drought like he’s one of Sanguinius’s self-righteous self-depriving bastards. 

When he pulls away, his chin is scarlet. 

“Not yet at least,” he says — you peer back at him, wild-eyed, unable to see anything in the gloom but his pale bulk. You cannot see the grin he throws your way, insouciant and knowing. Still, you don’t do anything as embarrassing as beg for mercy — so he assumes you know he is joking. 

He nips at your buttock, then licks a broad stripe across your cunt. This time, your squeal rings sharp and clear. 

Sevetar licks his way into you with very little grace, more concerned with loosening you for his cock than bringing you to climax. One hand holds you open, the other strokes his cock, and by the Throne, he’s as eager as a neophyte about to take his first skin. He’s practically quivering. He wants to cram himself inside you, fuck you until you scream and beg for mercy and that will only make him fuck you harder —

A few more shoves of his tongue, then he’s pulling back, spitting noisily onto your hole to give himself a little more lubrication. You whine protest at the loss of his mouth, lifting your hips, seeking out more sensation — then, too late, you realise that you are demanding something of him, and you begin to gibber an apology — 

“My lord, forgive me —“

”Hush,” he says, smacking your thigh affectionately, a honeyed mess of your slick and your blood dripping down his chin “Nothing to forgive. Missed me, did you?”

“—yes, lord,” you say, hesitating slightly. He imagines your fretsome mind whirling, trying to work out what it is that he wants you to say. He licks across your neck, drinking in the wine of your terror-sweat. “Missed you my lord, I —“

He pushes in, and you gasp, words lost in your sudden exhalation. Your cunt is a panicky clutch around his cock, trying to keep him out, but only succeeding in drawing deeper, inch by inexorable inch.

“My lord,” you manage, propping yourself up on your elbows “I —“

Sevatar adjusts himself minutely, careful not to bring his full body weight down on you, but eager to cram more of himself into your guts. Your breath staggers out in pained bursts, like you can’t heave in air around the girth of him — as if, against all biological probability, he’s fucked your lungs flat into the top of your rib cage.

“Take it,” he growls, like you have any choice in the matter. Halfway in, and he pulls himself out, slowly, slowly, slowly, watching your flesh cling sweetly to his prick — and then in again, just as slowly. Only this time, he fucks in a little deeper. And then he does it again. And again. And again. Your huffing breath soon   turns to squeaks, and then full on cries as he sinks deeper into you. 

“Y-yes, my lord,” you manage. “Th-thank you and —“

Your voice breaks into a cry as Sevatar fucks into you harder, losing himself in the delicious cling of your cunt; the feeling that nothing — not battle, nor torture, nor even the momentary approval of his Primarch’s gaze — can best. Your innards are warm, pliable, perfect, shaped around every thrust — with just the right amount of resistance to add the thrill of conquest. 

“—thank you,” you whimper. And — and —“

To be a Night Lord is to be a flenser of flesh, a bane of the innocent; sadism comes as naturally to Sevatar as shadow-stalking and skin-carving. You never sound sweeter to him than you do when you’re like this: pinioned under him, whimpering and hiccuping. His only response to your aborted attempts to speak is to fuck you harder, grabbing hold of the headboard to steady himself. His balls slap against your thighs with obscene fleshy sounds; his exhalations are more snarl than breath. 

“ — and — my lord — welcome home.”

Pleasure overtakes him in a blinding wave; he cums so hard that for a moment he sees the silvery outline of stars, a flurry of crows taking flight. His cock pulses his release into you, filling you to overflow. 

“Welcome home,” you repeat. He pulls out, and luxuriates in the sight of your puffy fucked-out cunt leaking his spend. It drips down your thighs, snagging on the wounds his teeth left. Briefly, he considers scooping it up, pushing it back inside you — but he decides against it. After all, he has been away for too long — and he has more than one load to cram inside you tonight. 

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

omg please number 5 i will fall to my knees and tear my hair out

 ‘’No one’s ever made me feel like this.’’

Warnings: 18+, p + v, dirty talk (i guess?),

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Tears of joy were threatening your eyes when you opened your door to see a tall man in a blue uniform standing there — Coryo. He had been gone for a little over a year in District 12, and the Capitol was not expecting him back anytime soon. Men who enrolled in the peacekeepers were obliged to serve a term of twenty years. What was he doing on your doorstep?

You blinked your tears away and crashed your mouth on his before he could step a foot in your apartment, kissing until you were both severely out of breath. He clung to you, refusing to let go of you yet, and  started kissing down your neck as he backed into your apartment and shut the door, allowing a short break for air. 

A soft moan left your lips, having gone so long without any form of physical touch from Coryo. Your hands came up to around his neck, reaching to run your hand through his hair as he continued his kisses, only to find his blond curls gone, all buzzed off. 

Holding questions for later, you let your hands fall back to his shoulders and down the front of his uniform, working on the belt and buttons and getting his jacket off. You let the layer fall on the floor, revealing a glimpse of Coriolanus’s new shape. 

You reached for the bottom of his undershirt, but his lips came back to yours before you could pull it off too, hungry and a tad too aggressive. He pulled you closed by your hips, his chest flushed against yours while his other hand urgently worked the buttons of your blouse, eager to get you naked and make up for the lost time. 

Your clothes joined Coriolanus’s on the floor of your apartment, discarded for him. His mouth toyed with one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling while his other was knuckle deep between your folds, pulling the softest moans from you. You clawed at his back, feeling the ridges from the burn he got when the area got bombed by rebels under your fingers. 

‘’I need you, Coryo,’’ you said with a choked gasp, the new angle of his fingers inside you making your knees weak. 

Wasting no time getting to your bedroom, he lifted you by your thighs and set you down on the edge of the table. This will do. You opened your legs, exposing your glistening pussy and Coryo had to fight the urge to get on his knees and make you moan so loud your neighbors would know he was back.

He grabbed his cock and tapped it right on your clit, making you whine desperately at the feel of him. You whimpered as he pushed the head in, your walls contracting around him, and making Coriolanus groan. Nights must have been very lonely for him in the barracks, forced to stroke himself in the showers every time he was missing you. 

His large hands wrapped around your hips, his nails digging into your soft flesh. ‘’Darling, you’re so tight. Fuck.’’ He breathed deeply, pushing more in. ‘’I missed that pussy so bad.’’

I missed your cock too, you wanted to say, but the words died in your tongue unspoken, replaced by a moan as he was buried to the hilt. You grabbed the side of his torso, needing something to anchor yourself on while you adjusted to him. After being apart for so long, your body needed a bit of time. 

Coryo’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan as you squeezed around him. ‘’You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager,’’ he groaned, grabbing the edge of the table and making you giggle. 

The first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. You had missed him so much while he was away…and so did your body. You moaned together, breaking the drought as pleasure flooded your bodies. 

His hands met with your thighs, grabbing at your flesh as he sped up his pace, pounding into you. The legs of the table squeaked slightly, not made for this kind of activity. You wrapped your arms around Coryo’s neck, holding onto him for dear life as he wrapped your legs around his hips, creating a new angle that soon had you over the metaphorical edge screaming his name. 

‘’That was…fucking amazing,’’ he said, a fucked out grin on his face. ‘’No one’s ever made me feel like this. Is that what they call nirvana?’’ 

You kissed his chest, still sat on the table, your fingers brushing against the chain of his dog-tags. You should get down and shower, but you didn’t want to let go of Coriolanus yet. 

‘’What happened to your hair?’’ you asked, your fingers grazing back and forth across his new hair. It was a strange new sensation, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Coryo leaned into your touch, barely standing on his legs. ‘’It’s mandatory for peacekeepers to shave them,’’ he explained simply.

‘’I like it.’’

—

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[c-cobweb]

𝓓on't stand so close to me ⋮ colin zabel

⨾ “young teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasy. she wants him so badly” — the police.

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ +18 mdni!, teacher!colin, student!reader, age gap (everyone is +18), smut, oral (m receiving). a/n ᯓ thanks @xrag-dollx for the idea! (again) ps: english is not my first language.

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You had been punished again for skipping math classes during the last week and you were upset about it. It wasn't your fault that Professor Johnson's classes were so boring.

But without a doubt the classes you never missed and the ones you were always the first to arrive were those of Professor Zabel. You were always attentive to everything that handsome man said and he, of course, noticed it.

When the bell that indicated that classes were over rang your resoplast and picked up your things to leave the classroom and headed towards the detention room.

You entered and sat at the end of the class, all this looking at your cell phone screen, texting your friend. That was until you heard someone crasping.

You looked up and saw him. You saw him.

“Miss, I think you know very well that mobile phones cannot be used on the school grounds," Colin said with his unmistakeable voice and a small smile on his lips.

Your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards in a smile. "Professor Zabel, I didn't know it was you who was going to be here supervising"

He sighed and let out a small laugh. "Yes, luckily or unfortunately it's my turn to be here this week"

“That's great! I also have to be here all week," you said with a smile tilting your head.

“Oh, wow. How lucky I am" Colin said in a sarcastic tone making you laugh.

You two had always had that kind of relationship in which the teacher and the student got along well and had enough confidence to joke. But oh, how you wished that trust was more.

“Come on, don't be like that, you know I'm your favourite student” You said as you got up from your seat and walked to the front of the class, where Colin was.

He rolled his eyes at your humourous comment and positioned himself in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. “More would you like to be my favourite student”

The room was flooded with a deep silence while you stared at each other. Professor Zabel's eyes continued to have that playful look while yours gradually transformed into a seductive look, and he did not take long to realise, taking another step towards you in response.

“And tell me, what have you done to be here punished for a week?” Colin asked intrigued.

“I skipped several math classes” You answered as if it were nothing, sitting on the table with a jump.

“Wow, I didn't have you as a rebel girl,” he said with a small laugh. His eyes flew to your thighs that, as you sat at the table, were even more uncovered by the rolling of your skirt upwards.

You shrugged carelessly letting out a small laugh. “It's not my fault that Professor Johnson is boring. Your classes are something entertaining to watch”

“Oh, yeah? Do you really think my classes are "something interesting to watch"?” Colin asked with a lower tone, getting even closer to you until you could feel his breath and breathing in your ear. “Or do you think I'm interesting to see?” He paused a little when he saw how you frowned. “Don't think I haven't noticed how you look at me, dear, I know perfectly what you really think about me”

You froze in your place, Professor Colin had caught you, but it's not that you were not very discreet either. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor" You lied even looking him in the eyes.

“Don't play innocent, do you think I didn't realise the times you pretended not to understand something just so I could talk only to you?" He let out a small laugh when he saw how your cheeks turned red. "And well, I think there's no need to talk about that time you sat in the front row and opened your legs excessively so I could see your panties with an unusual wet patch"

You were embarrassed, yes, you had done those things but now that your teacher was saying it out loud you were embarrassed. But you still regained your composure and returned to your usual playful tone. "Yes, but you can't say that you don't like everything I do to get your attention"

He snorted and licked his lips and then brought his face closer to yours. "And what if I like it? What are you going to do now that we are alone?" He asked in a husky tone.

It didn't take you long to put your lips together with his in a thirsty kiss. Colin's hands went to your thighs to open them and be able to position himself between them.

The kiss intensified more and more. His big hand intertached with the locks of your hair, slightly stretching them causing a small gasp to escape from your lips. Colin did not miss the opportunity to put his tongue in your mouth and deepen the kiss.

“You don’t know how much i wanted to do this,” He whispered on your lips. "All those nights thinking about you, all those nights with my cock in my fist"

You couldn't help but moan at his speech and you grabbed him by the shoulders to separate him from your lips. "Let me make you feel good, Professor Colin" You said and got off the table to kneel in front of him and start unbuttoning his pants.

“Your craving it, eh?” He chucked and gathered your hair in a ponytail.

When you got unbuttoned his pants, you caressed the outline of his penis on his boxers. "So big..." You murmured, but he still heard it. Finally you took his member out of his underwear and began to massage it with both hands.

After a few seconds you began to put the head in your oral cavity, moving your tongue around it listening to how Colin began to growl slightly. Little by little you began to put more of his cock in your mouth until it finally made a stop with your throat.

You closed your eyes tightly trying to get used to the new sensation. But little by little you began to move your head from top to bottom while your tongue accompanied the movement.

The grip that your teacher had in your hair became tighter and he began to move his hips gently so it wasn't too much for you. He threw his head back and small grunts and gasps began to come out of his lips.

“Yeah, baby, just like that. Keep sucking my cock like a good girl” He moaned as the movement of his hips accelerated, starting to fuck your mouth even faster.

Your right hand began to caress the rest of his member that did not fit in your mouth, moving faster and faster. You moaned when you felt how Professor Zabel stretched your hair again, moving you away from his member completely.

“I want to cum on your angelic face, do you want that?" He asked to make sure you were ready and you nodded quickly.

He smiled sideways when he saw how desperate you were and grabbed his cock to start pumping it himself. His hand squeezed on his member as he moved it up and down and admired the state you were in.

Your hair was totally disheveled, your lips swollen and your eyes slightly crystalised.

You were a mess.

And Colin loved that.

To help him, you unbuttoned the first buttons of your blouse, showing the beginning of your breasts. And that was enough for Colin to finish.

You closed your eyes and long, thick ropes of semen went to your face, decorating it white.

You finally opened your eyes and saw Colin trying to catch his breath while biting his lower lip before the picture that was your face.

“Fuck, baby. You don’t know how good it was” He said starting to put his member in his pants again to then help you get on your feet.

“I'm glad you liked it" You winked playfully while fixing your blouse.

Colin searched his bag until he found a handkerchief and gently cleaned your face. "That's it, you're clean now" He said giving you a sweet smile while throwing the handkerchief to the classroom trash can.

“Thank you, Professor Zabel. For everything" You said suddenly becoming shy.

“Thanks to you, little lady. And don't worry, next time I'll return the favour" He winked at you, making you blush.

“Is there going to be a 'next time'?" You asked surprised but excited.

“Of course, honey, there will be more than one next time," Colin said with a small laugh. "Now, you can leave, I won't tell anyone that you left earlier" He finished his sentence with a small spanking to your ass, making you let out a small laugh.

You didn't hesitate to come back at the end of the class to pick up your backpack and your phone and head for the door.

“Goodbye, Professor Zabel. See you tomorrow in class" You said winking at him playfully to finally leave the classroom.

Without a doubt, it had been worth skipping math classes to get this punishment.

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mlist , bots

 c-cobweb 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We'll heal together: Chapter Three

Scott's Street Phoebe Bridgers

Peter Pettigrew x Reader (Platonic) / Sirius Black x Reader (Ambiguous-Past) / Remus Lupin x Reader (Ambiguous) / James Potter x Reader (Platonic)

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is still having dreams of her past, while McGonagall convinces Dumbledore to remove the curse on her.

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, Jealous/Jerk Sirius, Fights, Smoking, mentions of death (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 2238

Remus was leaning against the railing of the transfiguration courtyard, looking over at the calm night. You were beside him, sitting atop the railing and looking down the hall, the very hall you two were supposed to be patrolling. 

Being a Prefect was lovely, of course, it was even better considering most of your routes were shared with Remus or Lily. The quiet walks spent chatting with the two were your favorite part of the day, or better, the night. Your green badge shining in the backdrop of the moon as you leaned back, just enough to dangle towards the yard but not enough to fall. You swayed your legs and Remus gave a low chuckle at your behavior. “You’ll fall.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and straightened yourself back up, turning to look at Remus as he pulled out a small box from his pocket. He opened it and pulled out a cigarette, offering over the box before you shook your head. “You know, we really should be finishing up our patrols.”

“What, don't like spending time with me?” He teased as his scarred hand lifted the stick to his lips. He snapped his fingers and the end suddenly sparked with a warm glow. It gave his face just the perfect amount of light, especially when he breathed in the toxin. His lips, slightly parted, quirked upwards as his eyes flicked to yours. When you made eye contact, you realized you had been staring at him for far longer than would seem normal. You gave him a playfully sour look and held out your hand. He gave a fake gasp of shock and handed you the cigarette that you quickly took a drag from. “My my. What a rebel.”

Remus always got more confident around the full moon, it was a bit intimidating. He was much easier to handle when he was meek and well mannered. Clicking his tongue as he leaned his head back. He gave a low groan and held out his hand to you. You handed the cig back and he finished it off before putting it out against the railing and tossed it towards the grass. “Want to skip our patrols today?”

You gawked at him and slowly, your lips curled into a bright, delightfully surprised smile. “You’re joking, right? Remus, usually I'm the one getting us into trouble, what has gotten into you?” You teased, jumping down from your perch and smirked up at him.

He gave a shrug and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. “Maybe Sirius has had some influence on me lately.”

“Oh? .. Oh.” You lit up with a mischievous look and Remus looked at you, confused.

“That's never a good sign.” He muttered and tilted his head before you clicked your tongue.

“Think about what you just said.”

“What?”

“Humor me.”

“I... want to skip patrols with you, and it's because I have been hanging out with- Oh.. OH.”

You doubled over and held your sides in laughter as the flustered boy tried to explain himself. Stuttering and stammering over his own words as you held the pillar beside you and leaned back against it. “Merlin! Help! I can't breathe!”

“Don't be so dramatic!” He tried to scold you but his red cheeks and narrowed eyes only worked against him to make you laugh harder. Remus slowly covered his mouth with one of his hands and the other went to his hip, doing his best to stifle his now growing laughter.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash that rang out from the hall before you two. You gave a small yelp of surprise and snapped your attention towards it. Calming your laughs you stood up straight and fixed your uniform. “Well, Remus, our little ditch night will need a rendezvous.” You teased and he thinned his lips.

“We could still-”

But you were already hurrying down the hall. Remus cursed himself and followed after you, watching with a sigh as you turned the corner, considering you were shorter than him, your scurrying figure sure was moving fast.

When you did turn the corner, you were met with three very familiar faces, walking your way with a bundle of what seemed to be muggle spray paint, ribbons, empty potion containers and glitter. You didn't even want to think about what they were up to, let alone the mess it would make when they did it. Dye a classmate's hair? Fine. Jinks a broom or two? All in good fun! But the muggle hell that was glitter? No, they crossed a line.

Your eyes met Sirius’s first and you frowned, his lips turning upward. “Oh look, buzzkill is here.” He hummed and James looked up from where he was gathering some of the containers he dropped. Lighting up with a bright smile as he stood up. “Vix!”

“W-we can explain-” Peter squeaked up, before Remus finally caught up and turned the corner with a calm stride. “I couldn't stop her.”

You gave a gasp. “You! You… double agent!” You declared with a gawk towards Remus.

You quickly turned your attention to the other three. “You! I expected better from you.” You gestured in your playfully stern voice to Peter, who had enough sense to hide his smile. “You, now, I expected nothing from you, truly.” You gesture to James before you land on Sirius and shrug. “And I guess you're here as well. If you must, at least try to act meek or apologetic.”

“I don't think I could pretend to be apologetic towards the likes of you, bird.” He snarked and you gave a scoff. 

“I’ll show you a bird! Right between my ring and index finger!” You gasped.

Remus laughed and wrapped his arms around your shoulder, taking the hand you jerked upward. “Settle down.” He snickered to you, not noticing the look Sirius sent him at your proximity. Sirius rolled his jaw before it tightened and his eyes locked on the two of you. Then, like a child, he walked up to you and opened one of the containers of Glitter. He wasn't really thinking, his body just suddenly.. moved.

You just looked back from your playful argument with Remus to see Sirius chuck a handful of glitter at both of you. You took the brunt end of it, and looked up at Sirius with a slack jaw and pure anger in your eyes. “How DARE you, Black!” Your voice bellowed before you grabbed his wrist and began to tussle with him in the halls.

~~

“After he threw the glitter at me, I don't exactly remember what happened.” You mused and pressed your tongue to your cheek as Sirius scoffed from his seat next to you. His lip was cut and he was absolutely covered in red and gold glitter.

“You lying snake!” He scoffed and you faked a gasp, 

Professor McGonagall gave a firm sigh and looked to the other three boys who stood off to the side, Also seeming to have been caught up in the whirlwind that was their fight, covered in Glitter, and smiling nervously at the professor. 

“Potter, what happened?” She asked, James opened his mouth but with a sharp look from both {Y/N} and Sirius, he shut his trap. “I- there was so much glitter, ma’am, I couldn't possibly-”

The professor sighed and turned to Peter who put his head down, the last attempt was Remus who just gave a soft, “Nope.”

The professor sighed and looked back at the two students in front of her, who quickly turned back around to face her as she grimaced. “Fine, since none of you will speak up, 10 points from slytherin for the fight!”

“What!?” You exclaimed, trying to hide your amusement. Black snickering.

“I’m glad you find it humorous Black, 10 points from Gryfindor for the fright.” Black pouted, slowly opened his mouth before she raised her hand. “And 20 points from all three of you for being out past curfew!” She declared and Black’s jaw went slack. You lit up and smirked at him, stifling a laugh quickly.

“Were you going to say something, {Y/N}?” McGonagall snapped her eyes to you and you quickly hid your smile with a bowed head. “No, Professor.”

“Good! Now if you would all kindly, go to your dorms!” She scolded.

You quickly got to your feet and thanked the professor, walking to the door as you passed the boys with your chin in the air. Your steps slowly faded out into faint echoes before your eyes shot open wide.

Another weird dream, it seemed. You sighed and looked at your clock, it was past midnight. You looked around the room to see what could have possibly woken you, before you heard it again. A knocking from down stairs. Who would possibly want to get into your shop this late? No one needed flowers this bad!

You got out of bed and wrapped yourself in your robe. Walking over to your window and narrowed your eyes at the two figures in cloaks at your door. Oh hell no.

~~

“Albus?” Professor McGonagall called into the room, stepping into the Headmaster’s office, knocking on the door before she walked in fully.

“Minerva.” Dumbledore greeted her warmly, fixing his glasses on his face and leaning back into his chair as he set his paperwork aside. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just some things to run past you, shouldn't be longer than a moment. I hope I am not interrupting something important.” She fretted with a small smile and Dumbledore merely made a face and waved his hand. 

“I would always prefer your presence over the ever alluring siren song of paperwork. Now, how can I help you?”  He cheeked.

“It's about Lupin, Harry has asked him to teach him the Patronus charm.” She smirked at Albus leaning forward slightly with her hands folded.. He gave a thoughtful nod, slowly smiling. “I would love to see how that goes then.”

“I will tell Lupin the moment I see him then.” She mused and began to slowly walk across the room, standing by the empty portrait Dumbledore had purchased for himself. Still unfinished, with splashes of indignant color staining the parchment and shel frowned. Dumbledore gave a sigh and stood to his feet. Walking over to stand beside her, hands clasped behind his back.

“Has it been that long already?” Minerva mused after a long moment of silence before she lifted her hand to run it under the name plate below his frame. Mouthing his name as Dumbledore simply nodded. “I am getting older, Minerva.” He turned from where he stood and walked back up  the steps. “I don't have many regrets in how I lived my life. Do you?” He pried, trying to fish out just what seemed to be under her skin.

“In this school? No, I don't think I have.” She mused and turned to face Dumbledore.

“But?” He pushed and she sighed.

“In our war, that is another thing.”

“Ah.” He announced and paused in his steps to the bookshelf beside his desk, running his fingers along the spine before he picked one up, a light blue binding covered in dust. “I take it this is about our project Vixen.”

“She's remembering more and more by the day.” Minerva grimaced, knowing what that really meant. Dumbledore was growing weaker, and thus, the spells and charms he cast were losing their hold. He was losing his touch, and day to day she begged him to slow down and he refused.

“She has been remembering for months now.” He dismissed and Minerva felt herself growing frustrated.

“She said Harry’s name yesterday.” She tutted and he fell silent, opening the book and walking over to his desk.

She suppressed a scoff and walked up to him. “Did you hear me, Albus?”

“Did I ever tell you why I did what I did that October 30th?” He asked and Minerva tightened her lip in slight annoyance. 

“No.” 

He gestured for her to sit and she sighed, sitting in front of his desk as he sat across from her and began to scan the pages of the book.

“{Y/N} {L/N} was not marked for death by Voldemort as I had said all those years ago. She was marked for capture,” He began and Minerva narrowed her eyes. “I only learned this from a certain whistleblower, who begged me to do something. To save both her and Lily.” 

Minerva’s eyes widened and she sat up straighter.

“This whistleblower gave me information and promised his loyalty in exchange for both of their safety. She had been outed by a rat of sorts, for conspiring with one of Voldamort’s own to.. Well, I am not entirely sure but I have my theories.” He waved his hand as he found what he was looking for in the book. Setting it down and pushing it over to Minerva. A step by step breakdown of how to reverse Obliviate. 

“I did what I thought was necessary at the time. Here I find I may have over done it.” He mumbled and Minerva couldn't hide her bitter laugh. Twelve years. Twelve years since he sent the girl away, and after all of that he was finally ready to admit, maybe he had gone too far?

“Well.” Albus cleared his throat and stood. “Let's go get our Vixen.”

[sydnikov]

Fleeting || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov / fem!Reader

Word Count: 17.5k

Summary: Every moment with Andrei is fleeting.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), cheating(?), toxic relationship, alcoholic consumption, angst, cursing, no happy ending, Andrei-is-a-dick™

A/N: For those of you who have already been following me, you might remember this post—that’s what this is based on :) This is also the longest fic I’ve ever written so that’s insane, but sorry not sorry. Get ready, this one’s gonna hurt 🤭

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Andrei doesn’t love you.

It becomes clear for you months after you start fucking him on the side. His likeness for you is merely an obsession, something to have all to himself.

You’re his, or were his, and that’s how he saw you. Nothing more than that, or at least that’s the conclusion you’ve come to after months apart lets you reflect on your relationship with him.

Spending a lot of time in your head, you think. About him, his actions, why he couldn’t love you the way you love him.

He always held you close to him, one muscular arm curled around your waist while the other likely held a drink in his hand. He paraded you around like a prize, happy to show off the hot piece of meat he likely thought of you as at his side.

It was hard to reach him, literally and metaphorically. You had to stand up on your toes to reach his ear, and the power imbalance just by your height difference alone only made the whole thing hotter, merely one aspect of your relationship you never really could get over.

Every time you spoke it had him grinning in a way that made you think he knew something you didn’t. You’re already so shy, too, and it’s what made up your whole demeanor, what drew him to you in the first place.

He likes sweetness. Innocence, quiet—that way you couldn’t rebel. And he loved it when you doted on him. You did your best to be everything he wanted in a girl, too. Bold makeup, skimpy clothing, speaking only to him and him alone. Best of all, you didn’t question him. His actions, his decisions, why he’d sometimes go days without speaking to you but once he called you again, you would come running without hesitation.

It took you too long to realize that he only liked you because you were someone he could fall back on when the freedom of his escapades got too boring and he needed stability. The thing is that Andrei loved you being his, but he didn’t want to ever be yours.

And you know this now, you do. The moment you went no contact and left his apartment in tears, you were calling your best friend for support and to reinforce the fact that he is the asshole, not you.

Sometimes, though, you dream. Of his hands on you, his mouth on your neck, his thick cock pounding into you from behind. The toxicity of it all that, despite everything, felt so good because your emotions were always on overdrive when with him.

Mostly, you liked feeling desired. Nobody had ever pursued you the way he did, even if your body is all he really wanted from you to begin with.

It’s been months since you confessed your feelings for him and he told you to leave; months of you wallowing, going to work, meeting with friends for drinks as a shell of yourself because without Andrei, life suddenly seemed colorless.

You miss him. The excitement, the tension, the way he made you feel. And you pride yourself on being confident, but all self respect flies out the window the moment his name is brought up. It’s wrong, too, you swear you know this, and you imagine countless times telling him off, if you ever run into him again.

For treating you like a body to warm his dick, a soulless individual with no feeling… You’re reminded of the last conversation you had with him yet again, the one that ended everything. You’d been seeing each other for months when it occurred. Months full of Andrei and the rollercoaster of emotions he had you on.

To get to the end, though, you have to go back to the beginning.

It’s January of twenty twenty-three, and you’re freshly twenty-one and experiencing the world in a way you never could before. Riding the high of getting your first serious job in college, it took no convincing at all for you to let your best friend, Maria, convince you to go out on a Friday night to celebrate your blossoming lives.

“Who are we meeting there, again?” You ask, painting your lips a bright red in front of Maria’s full-body mirror. You’ve already started pregaming, and your head is starting to buzz in just the way you like it.

Your blonde friend is quickly curling her hair, despite the fact that she’s had hours to get ready and still procrastinated until you arrived at her apartment. “Some friends from work. You probably won’t know them,” She says offhandedly, finishing her hair in record timing before snatching up the two dresses she had previously laid out on her bed. “Should I wear this in black or red?”

Raising a brow, you question her wording. “Considering I don’t work with you, I doubt I would.” Laughing, you turn your head away from the mirror to examine the two dresses she’s holding up to her body. “Do the red one, it makes your eyes pop.”

Anything would look good on Maria, though. She has this timeless sort of beauty, a blonde, blue-eyed bombshell that has eyes turning her way wherever she goes. You’d be jealous if you didn’t mind her taking all the attention off of you, considering you’re nowhere near as bold as her.

It will especially come in handy tonight, too, since these co-workers of hers are ones you’ve never met before and you don’t exactly plan on getting too close to them.

“This is why I get ready with you,” Maria sighs happily, unceremoniously throwing the black dress back onto her bed. “Oh! I almost forgot, I have heels for you!” She’s then running back into her closet, ruffling through a box before emerging with a pair of bright red stilettos.

“What’s with the red theme tonight?” You giggle as she tosses the heels to you. They look expensive, a brand you don’t recognize written in cursive on the inside of the leather soles. Maria insisted you incorporate red into your outfit tonight, whether it be subtle or bold.

She eyes you from her position on the bed, somehow managing to zip up her dress one-handed. “You don’t watch sports by any chance, do you?”

Throwing back the last of a vodka shot, you wince before responding. “My dad made me watch baseball with him sometimes?”

Maria’s face lights up like she suddenly knows something you don’t. All she does is hum in response, biting her lip like she’s holding back from telling you something.

Or, you’re just drunk. You’ve always been a lightweight. “What?” You ask anyway, finally standing up as you adjust yourself.

The blonde walks over to you, fixes the creases in your little black dress and affixes you with an approving stare. “Don’t worry about it,” Suddenly, she’s whirling around to go back for her phone, which is laid faced down on the nightstand. “Ooh, I knew those heels were a good choice. You look so good!”

As she saunters back over, wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you into her side and poses for a picture, you forget all about the abrupt topic change and the fact that her red theme with questions of sports does mean something, after all.

Truthfully, you still can’t remember exactly how you got from her apartment and into a high-end bar you’ve only ever seen advertised online. Bits and pieces of an Uber ride along with downing more shots come to mind, but it’s all hazy.

You don’t really care to remember though, either, as Maria leads you through the crowded bar, arm linked through yours, with a purpose. The music is loud, so loud you think you can see the walls moving, but that’s also probably just your swimming vision.

“Here they are!” Maria is shouting over the noise, and you follow her gaze to a group of tall, imposing men surrounding two booths right by the bar.

“Those are you coworkers?” You ask, a little incredulous. Scratch that—very incredulous.

She sends you a mischievous grin. “I said friends, girl. Meet my friends!” That’s what gathers their attention, and you’re suddenly reminded that she’s just as tipsy as you right now, if not more.

Ah, fuck, you think as one of the men come over and pull Maria into a hug. He looks at you questioningly after they pull apart, and you send him a small, nervous smile.

Damn it, Maria.

“You must be the friend she mentioned,” He says, again looking to the blonde beside you for confirmation. “From college, yeah?”

That seems to snap Maria out of whatever stunned stupor she’d been in, and she tunes back into your conversation by, again, pulling you into her. “My best friend,” She swoons, and yeah. She’s definitely drunk now.

“Nice to meet you,” He’s chuckling, and seems to be familiar with her antics. “I’m Martin.”

You introduce yourself and shake his offered hand. “Any leftover shots, by any chance?” While taking the lead in conversation with people you’ve never met before might seem odd, you don’t think you can rely on Maria to socialize for you considering she’s already falling into your side.

“I can check, if you want to follow me—ah, shit,” Martin curses, suddenly, then quickly apologizes to the two of you before rushing over to a man with a mustache attempting to climb on top of a table.

“Interesting friends, Maria,” You say into her ear as you reluctantly follow him, keeping her close. “Who’s the one with the mustache?”

She seems to gain a little bit of her wits back to give you a description of all the guys within your eyesight. “The mustache is Seth, super friendly but also, uh… Super drunk. He’s Canadian.”

You’re not sure why you need to know his nationality, but she continues before you can ask.

“And you just met Martin, right? Yeah, he’s really nice. His girlfriend, Nykki, is gorgeous, they’re both from Czechia. Then there’s the really tall one, behind Seth? No, other side. Yeah, that’s Jesperi. A bit of a flirt even though we’re all pretty sure he has a girlfriend, but he still won’t admit it. He’s Finnish.”

Maria continues to describe a few of the others, but truthfully, you tune out after Jesperi because a man about the same height as the Finn is suddenly approaching the group, and looks to be the only one Seth listens to because that’s who gets him to crawl down from the table.

You don’t know why he catches your attention so suddenly, but something about him… He turns, and you’re able to catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Immediately, you come to find there’s no accurate word to describe him. His beauty simply transcends any compliment you could give; instead, you interrupt your friend from her spiel.

“Hey Mare, Mare—who’s that?” Slapping her arm, you point towards the now-laughing stranger. He’s looking around as he does so, which is when he makes contact with your starstruck eyes. He looks amused, then seems to recognize the blonde beside you, and then he’s cutting through the crowd to meet you.

Maria gives you a look before also spotting the approaching stranger, and a large smile lights up her face. It’s a smile you’re very familiar with, one that enraptures every man who catches a glimpse of her pearly whites.

You quickly come to the conclusion that this is why she was so eager to go out. She’s likely had her eye on him for a while, and you struggle to keep the disappointment from your face as she purrs his name.

“Hey, Andrei,” She says, a little giggly. “Great game today, you all played awesome.”

Andrei… You test the name silently, liking the way it feels on your tongue. He’s even taller up close, and you can see the muscle definition straining through the fabric of his shirt. He’s huge, and you feel incredibly small standing next to him.

“Thank you,” He replies, his voice deep. A little husky, definitely accented, but you’re not sure from where. “Who’s your friend?” He changes topic quickly, and those dark eyes are back on you once again.

Maria, as ditzy as she can be, does notice the subtle change in him. Andrei has never been overly flirty with her like she has with him, and she’d be an idiot not to notice the way his eyes were drawn to you the moment he spotted you.

She’s used to having all sorts of attention from the opposite sex, and the Russian hockey player is all sorts her type. It’s amusing though, watching how you melt under his gaze, thinks ‘me too’, and then decides to help you out.

“This is my friend from college,” She introduces you, says your name and watches as he takes it in like it’s very important information. Grabbing your hand from where it rests at your side, she holds it out to Andrei for you, snickers as you send her a glare. “And this is Andrei. He plays for the Carolina Hurricanes.”

This is why she asked you if you watch sports, you suddenly connect the dots. And why she was telling you where all these people are from. Her friends from work are actually sports players, and you understand why she didn’t say it outright.

These guys, they’re famous, right? Your stomach twists, and you suck in a breath as Andrei takes your hand. His palm envelops yours, and he brings it to his lips to press a heated kiss to your skin.

The greeting is outdated, but for whatever reason it suits him. You think the kiss is a promise, too, as his thumb swipes over the back of your hand.

“That’s hockey, right?” You intend to ask Maria, but you’re unable to take your eyes off of Andrei as he slowly lets go of you, like the contact is riveting for him, too. “In the NHL?”

“Yes,” He answers. “You don’t watch?” You’re not a fan like he’d expect. Strangely enough, he likes that you don’t follow them. It makes you all the more interesting, someone new to pick apart for his pleasure.

You flush, turning red under his unrelenting gaze. Suddenly, you feel out of place with your lackluster hockey knowledge. “Not a huge sports girl, unfortunately.” You say slowly, but he catches your quiet words anyway.

He’s already tuned into you—has made you into a new game to win, in his mind.

“I can fix that.” Andrei grins, and it’s almost predatory as he smoothly slides his left arm around your waist. “Do you mind if I steal her?” He directs his question to Maria, but doesn’t really give her a chance to answer before pulling you  away.

Turning your head, you find her sending you a grin as she mouths something encouraging, holding up two thumbs-ups. She’s already decided that if she can’t have this sexy Russian, she wants you to instead.

“I like your heels,” His deep voice is in your ear, suddenly, and you take your eyes off of Maria to look up at Andrei, instead. “They’re the color of our jerseys.”

“Thank you,” You breathe, letting the warmth from his compliment wash over you. “Maria made me wear them.”

He clicks his tongue, like this information doesn’t surprise him. “She has good taste. Red is definitely your color.”

You flush again, finding that his eyes are already on you when you tilt your head up. Nobody has ever told you that before… Maria is always the one getting praise, not you.

The fast beating of your heart, shaky limbs and nervous breath, and you already know you’re falling for it. His charm, his looks, his confidence; it’s addicting, and you can’t force yourself to stop as you ever so slightly lean into him, letting his body envelop you.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the bar, and Andrei orders a drink over the loud bass that reverberates in your ears. It appears moments later - not fair - and then he’s sliding it towards you. You meet his eyes again as he smiles, raising a brow at your silence before he gestures to take it.

“For you,” He says. “Vodka cranberry. I have a feeling you like the fruity drinks, no?”

He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it. You’re not one for sipping hard, bitter liquor, even if it gets the job done. You’re not sure how you feel about him being able to read you so well, but you do like not having to carry the conversation.

“Am I that transparent?” You grin, though it’s laced with insecurity as you take a sip. It’s good, and helps calm your nerves.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, malyshka. It’s not a bad thing.”

You wouldn’t know it then, but he already began patronizing you the moment you met him. The Russian language is full of double-meanings, and malyshka, little one, is rather mocking. For him to know you so well already was a good thing for him, but for you? Not so much.

Andrei sees right through you, and he has from the very beginning.

“You’re not American, are you?” You change topic, suddenly, using the unfamiliar term he used as an excuse. “Your accent, it’s foreign.”

“Net—no, I’m not. Most of my teammates are out of country.” He replies. “I’m from Russia. Just here to play hockey.”

“Do you like it? Here in Raleigh?” You ask, a pitiful form of small talk to keep this sudden tension at bay.

“I do.” He replies. “I like it a whole lot more now that I’ve met you, though.” And then he’s smiling again, a grin rather feral as he looks at you like you’re his prey waiting to be devoured. He’s incredibly smooth as he puts his hands back on you, one sliding around the circumference of your waist while the other brings your hand holding the drink to his lips, taking a sip from the glass.

Your eyes go half-lidded at the motion, and Andrei knows he has you—hook, line, and sinker. He loves this game, but he thinks he likes you a little bit more than that, too.

Not that he’ll ever admit it.

“You just met me,” You blurt, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

Andrei, to his credit, takes your nervousness in stride. He finds it cute that he has that effect on you. “And I like you,” He counters, flashing a dazzling smile. “You’re cute. Small, like kisa.”

“Kisa?” You try out the unfamiliar word, your attempt at a Russian accent definitely not as sexy as his.

“Kitten,” He translates. “Will you purr for me?” It’s so disgustingly cheesy you can’t help but grimace, and Andrei laughs at the look on your face.

He steps closer, even more than he was before, and the way he looks down on you only makes the difference in height that much more noticeable. He’s so big… Normally you’d feel caged, but with him it feels safe, and that’s probably a red flag you won’t discover until much later.

You struggle finding something to say, but he beats you to it. “I’d like your number, if you’re willing to give it.” And he’s so smooth, so conniving with the way he asks it because he’s not demanding at all, letting you think you have all the power.

“Okay,” You breathe, eyes widening in awe as you don’t even have the chance to pull out your phone before he’s sliding his own into your hands. “You can add your contact.” He instructs, watching you type in your information.

It looks informal, your first and last name in his phone like you’re merely a coworker. You’ll blame it on you being tipsy later, but you add a smiley face at the end of your name, hoping it makes you stand out. You don’t know how many girls he has in his contacts but you’re not naive enough to think you’re the only one.

You lick your lips almost subconsciously as you hand Andrei his phone back, and he zeroes in on the motion. Suddenly, he has the urge to kiss you, and so he does just that. It catches you by surprise, but soon enough you’re melting into him as one large hand cradles your jaw, keeping you tilted up to him.

Andrei tastes like sin, like temptation and all things bad you were told to never get involved in as a kid. A forbidden fruit, perhaps, and there’s even hints of cranberry left on his tongue to cement that fact.

“Andrei…” You hum in surprise as he deepens the kiss, his lips soft and heavenly. It takes everything in you to pull back, to separate yourself from the addicting taste of him. “Wait, I don’t, um—”

You pause. Andrei looks confused, perhaps a little alarmed as his eyes flit over your face. “You don’t… Kiss anyone?”

“No! No,” You lower your voice, not wanting to attract any attention. “Of course I do. I just, I don’t hook up. For fun. Ever.”

He frowns, like he can’t fathom the idea that you don’t enjoy sex with no strings attached.

“Really,” he says, not quite a question. “You’re beautiful, though.” The charm comes back full force as his hand comes to brush away some of your hair that had fallen into your face. “Surely you have suitors, no?”

Your throat tightens, and suddenly your eyes are glassy as he looks at you with so much reassurance and affection. “Maria usually gets the ‘suitors’, not me.”

“I don’t believe that.” He responds immediately, and he looks so sure of himself as his head lowers, his eyes looking back and forth from yours to your lips, and you’re helpless to stop him as the hand moving your hair comes to rest on your cheek.

It’s all very convincing, the sudden care and adoration… You’ve never had a man treat you so delicate, like a prized possession, and you fall for it all too quickly.

“Let me take you out?” He soon asks, and there’s nothing you can really respond with other than yes.

Everything happens so quickly from here. Andrei becomes a centerpiece in your life, and you’re helpless to stop it as you fall for everything about him. You don’t truly become his ‘girlfriend’, but you are something more. Secret dates and midnight drives where no one can see you confirm that.

That’s why you think he’s finally turning serious about you when he shows up to your apartment at the beginning of March a few weeks before his playoffs start. He holds a large bouquet of roses, except your favorite flowers are gardenias because they remind you of your mom so your smile wobbles a little bit, but you let it slide for the romanticism of it all.

Andrei grins, the whites of his teeth blinding and he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. He asks you if you’ll come to his playoff games, wear a WAG jacket and act as if what you are is official. You think you truly mean something to him after this, even though he never actually confirms it.

Suddenly you’re Andrei’s girl (but not really) and it becomes your entire identity. You essentially live with him as the playoffs come around, taking care of his apartment while he’s on the road. He talks of getting a dog over the summer, and you’re enthusiastic in your encouragement because you’ll have a friend to keep you company while he’s on the road.

His injury happens, though, and he’s out for good, at least for the rest of the season. You don’t know how to comfort him because your ‘relationship’ is so new, and it’s hard for you to understand why the anger at himself cuts so deep.

Ultimately, you fix the rough patch with sex. Lots and lots of sex. He works through his frustrations by taking you long, hard, and deep, mostly with him on top holding your throat while you take it like the good girl he tells you you are.

“‘Drei, your leg,” You remember saying to him one time as he slams you onto his bed, rolling directly on top of you. He doesn’t seem to hear you at first, too busy laying kisses to your neck.

“I don’t care.” He eventually responds, looking at you so darkly it leaves you shivering. He eats you out afterwards, and, well—you don’t have any more protests after that.

They win the first series against the New York Islanders in six games, and the moment the final goal is scored in overtime you’re jumping out of your seat along with the other WAG’s at one of their houses.

It’s exhilarating, rooting for something with every ounce of your being. You do it for Andrei - who still isn’t playing, but he was there watching - but mostly for yourself because you love the feeling of belonging to a community so close.

The second series ends sooner than the first, a five game victory over the New Jersey Devils, and this time you are at that final game. You sit with Andrei in a private booth at the top of PNC Arena, gripping his arm that also holds onto your thigh with the same amount of intensity.

The moment the final goal is scored - also in overtime - you’re hunching over your seat releasing a long breath. Andrei attempts to rise, then likely remembers his leg which forces him to grip the arms of his chair in strained acceptance.

“They did it,” You hear him whisper, like he can’t believe they actually came out of this series alive. “They did it.” He repeats himself, louder and more confident. You’re still folded over yourself, letting the anxiety drain out of you when he grabs your hand and tangles your fingers together.

“My kisa,” He says, waiting for you to turn your head so he can smile brilliantly at you. “We did it.”

“Not we,” And you grin back, because there’s nothing else for you to do but match his ecstasy. “You did it.”

“I didn’t even play,” Andrei is laughing, soaking in your praise like a sponge. “But I was here, wasn’t I?”

“You mean more to them than you’ll ever know.” More to me than you’ll ever know, you want to say, but hold back on that particular vulnerability.

After he finishes the team meeting in the locker room, you take him back to his house. He still hasn’t been given the all clear to drive, so you’ve taken up caretaker duties along with his mother.

You don’t think she likes you very much, either, but Andrei just says it takes a while for her to warm up to new people. Thankfully, she’s never around when you are though, because as you close the front door to his house he gives you a look equating to a meal he wants to devour.

Andrei seems to forget all about his knee, again, when he moves into you, pushing you back against the front door. “You drive me crazy.” He mumbles into your lips, and you don’t think you’re meant to respond as he moves to your neck.

You wore his jersey tonight, hoping it would bring the team good luck. You also happen to like how possessive he gets when he sees you in his clothes, especially wearing his name. It’s a little ridiculous, but you can’t lie and say you don’t love the attention.

Biting into your jugular, he tastes your rapidly beating heart before moving on, addicted to the sound of the moan that chokes its way out of your throat.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He breathes, massaging his hands into your waist as he pulls you away from the door. “And you’re going to love it, aren’t you? Because you’re such a good girl. My good girl.” His raspy voice leaves you holding back a whimper, and it’s hard to speak as he begins to sneak his hands under your jersey.

When you don’t respond because you’re too distracted by his hands, his damn hands, trailing up your ribs, he digs his fingers harshly into your skin. Your eyes snap open to find him almost glaring.

“Yes,” You think he wants to hear you say. “I’m yours.” You babble as his fingers let up, moving to cup your breasts over your bra as he pinches your nipples into hard points.

“That’s right,” He hums almost mockingly, hands now back to your waist as he pulls you after him to the path of his room. “No one else can make you feel like I do, yeah?”

This time he doesn’t expect a response as he pushes his door open, turning you around as you fall into his bed. Your head spins as the jersey you’re wearing rides up and Andrei quickly does the rest, slipping it off you with ease.

“Fuck,” You think he says, but you could care less as his bare hands are back on you, kneading the soft skin of your stomach and trailing back up the length of your torso. “No shirt underneath?”

“It was too hot outside,” You reply, breathless as you attempt to tug his suit and tie off, but that quickly proves to be more difficult. He tsks, thankfully deciding to aid you as he rids himself of his jacket. “You’re lucky that jersey is so thick.” He says, moreso to himself as he begins unbuttoning his slacks.

All that’s left is his undershirt and boxers, meanwhile you’re still left in your bra, jeans, and panties. Andrei must realize this too as he kicks his slacks off somewhere behind him. “Strip,” He commands, but you don’t need the reminder as you’re already one step ahead of him.

Your jeans and panties come off quickly, but it’s harder to remove your bra lying down. You eye the delicious specimen of a man above you, reaching out your hand for his own. “Help me?” You ask, biting your bottom lip before rolling onto your stomach.

Andrei mutters something behind you, but it’s clearly appraisal as the first thing his hands land on is your bare ass. He spends a few moments appreciating the view before his fingers trail up your back, unclipping your bra much quicker than you ever could have.

“You, kisa, are dangerous,” He teases, lowering himself to where his solid chest is pressing down on your back. He loves taking you from behind, tangling his hands in your hair while you’re left to his mercy.

He noses his way past your hair to reach your neck, lightly nipping the skin as you sigh, your head melting to the side so he can continue his ministrations.

“Andrei, please,” You hiss, the wetness between your thighs now too prominent to ignore. You wiggle your hips tantalizingly, hoping to catch his attention.

He grins into your neck, doesn’t respond as he presses a final kiss to your pulse point before pulling back, his right hand sweeping the rest of your hair to the side.

“You need me to touch you?” He asks, smoothing his left hand over your hip before slipping it to the inside of your thighs. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it ever so lightly to feel you flinch with sensitivity underneath him.

You tremble underneath him as he continues stroking you, and your hips jerk upward when two of his fingers slip past your walls and curl. He’s laughing as your ears ring, and already you’re so close to coming when his thumb rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his hand.

Just like everything else about you, though, he knows; he knows and he pulls back before you even have the chance to swear because then the last layer of clothing between you is gone. His boxers are thrown somewhere behind him along with his undershirt, and now he wastes no time pulling your hips up, leaving your chest pressed into the bed.

So used to this familiar position, you look behind you in anticipation to find him stroking his cock, staring at your glistening pussy with barely contained arousal. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for, but then he’s sliding his free hand through your soaked lips to gather the wetness there, using it as lubricant.

“Shit,” He says, swearing more to himself before climbing atop you. It’s routine the way he grabs your hair, tangles it in his fingers while the other guides his swollen cock to your entrance. The bulbous head pushes into you with ease, finding no resistance as he sinks into you.

Andrei hisses, mutters something in Russian, then is lowering his head to press his lips to your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight. You just feel so good all the time, you know that, kisa?”

The only sound capable of coming out your mouth is a whimper as you bury your face into the sheets as his hips begin thrusting, hitting your sweet spot with bullseye accuracy each time.

The girth of him stretches you out deliciously, and it leaves your walls clenching and unclenching rhythmically in time with his movements. You mold to him like your body was made for him, like there’s no other way to exist without him taking you in such primal fashion.

Andrei’s head rests in the crook of your neck, murmuring indiscernible phrases while his hands trail up and down your body. His hips rut against your clit each time he thrusts forward, and if anything you get wetter at the thought of him fucking you so callously.

You feel like his most precious belonging sometimes, like an object. It can be disorienting when he talks to you like you’re a child, but when he fucks you it’s like that preciousness he views you with is amplified.

You flinch upward when his cock curves into you just right, and the way he coos into your ear to bring you back down only verifies that thought. He wants to take care of you, always—even if it demeans you.

Andrei suddenly rolls over onto his back, bringing you with him to where you’re the one on top with your back laying against his chest. He sits up, and now you’re in his lap, thighs spread to the side as he once again begins fucking into you.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream as your head rolls back onto his shoulder, the new angle forcing his cock into deeper lengths inside you, and it hurts but it hurts so good and why were you ever questioning how he treats you, again?

How has only one man ever been able to make you feel this good?

Euphoria floods your veins as his hands find purchase on your body, one taking your left tit and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other sneaks down to the junction of your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing over it mercilessly.

When your stomach starts clenching and your lower spine tingles, Andrei is right back at your ear whispering encouragement. “That’s it, angel,” He praises. “That’s it. You want to come, yeah? Do it. I’ve got you.”

His name leaves your mouth as a breathless whine, and you struggle not to flinch away from his touch when it becomes too much but also not enough, and somehow he knows this and just holds you tighter.

When his cock hits you so deliciously good while his thumb swipes over your clit, you fall. You fall hard, the walls of your cunt seizing around him as ecstasy takes over your body. Sparks fly across your skin, stars filling the empty blackness behind your closed eyes and you think you’re sobbing Andrei’s name but you can’t be sure. The only thing you can be sure of is him; his cock inside you, his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, his teeth on your neck as he approaches his high.

Yours lasts for longer than normal because he doesn’t stop moving—if anything, he goes faster, because the sight and feeling of sending you into a spiral only triggers his own release.

By now you’re motionless, unable to even lift your head as it remains lying against his shoulder. Andrei’s thrusts are frenzied, more sloppy and less precise, until he’s throwing his own back with a long, pleasure-filled groan.

Eventually, he stills. His chest is rising and falling behind you rapidly, attempting to collect himself now that his mind is back in the present. You sigh, quietly yet happy, as his cock softens inside you but doesn’t move, his release slowly trickling down your conjoined bodies.

You suddenly remember that he didn’t lose a condom, but then you remind yourself that you’d stopped using condoms weeks before. You were already on birth control, and he assured you this was exclusive.

You were a fool to believe him.

Andrei soon moves, his hands taking to your hips as he gently lifts you off of him. “I know,” He says when you hiss with sensitivity. “I’ve got you, good girl…” He lays you on your back, and you don’t move from your position even as he leaves the room.

Your eyes soon flutter shut, and you curl to the side as the minutes go by with no sign of return. It’s not regret that fills your mind, no, but another emotion, something stronger than just satisfaction at getting such a pleasurable release.

You don’t dare to think of the world ‘love’, but maybe something similar to that is what you’re feeling?

It doesn’t help that just as you’re on the verge of falling asleep, Andrei comes back to your naked form while he’s now adorned in sweatpants. You merely hum as he sits on the edge of his bed next to you, one of his hands reaching out to trail up your arm. When he reaches your face he brushes away the hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead from cooling sweat, letting your skin breathe.

He says something, so quiet it’s impossible to hear over the sound of your thundering heart, and you don’t have the energy to ask as you finally succumb to exhaustion.

Andrei cleans you up after, dries the inside of your legs and slides one of his t-shirts over you. He tucks you under his sheets and pulls you into his arms, letting your hair tickle his cheeks.

The Eastern Conference Final arrives far quicker than any of you are prepared for, and games one and two against the Florida Panthers are full of anxious nail-biting and frustrated cursing when the puck hits the goal post.

Both games end in overtime losses, and the team has to play games three and four in enemy territory, down by two.

Andrei, understandably, isn’t taking it well. It's hard for the players on the ice, of course, but even harder when he has to sit at the sidelines, hidden in a booth at the top of the arena with you doing your best to comfort him.

“Why can’t they just fucking score?” You remember him hissing before the end of regulation in game two, not angry at his teammates but at the situation instead.

And himself, too, because he is the injured one. He is the one who tore his ACL making it so that he couldn’t play. It isn’t his fault, but it is at the same time and that’s what’s truly getting to him.

As the timer hit zero, he’d leaned back in his chair and grabbed your hand without thought, squeezing your fingers to the point of strangulation.

You let him, though, because at that point you’d let him do anything.

“I’m sorry.” You said, your eyes on him the entire time. It pained you to see him so miserable, and there was nothing you could do to make it better. “This isn’t your fault. It’s… Blame Bobrovsky, okay? He’s just too—”

You interrupted yourself, not wanting to say ‘good’ even if that’s true because you didn’t want to upset him with the implication that his teammates couldn’t be better.

Andrei, to give him credit, didn’t take offense. His eyes were on you the moment you started your ramble, and as you finally paused to gauge the look on his face you found amusement and unbridled affection in his gaze.

“Too good?” He finished your sentence, waiting for your meek nod of confirmation. Merely sighing, he only brought your intertwined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of your hand. “You’re right, kisa. He is too good.”

You stay back in Raleigh while the team, including Andrei, takes flight to Sunrise, Florida. Most of the WAG’s stay back too, the majority already anticipating the result of this series.

Hours after the team’s flight, Maria calls you late on the eve of game three.

“Hey, Mare!” You answer, lowering the volume of whatever show is on the television to better hear her. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl!” She chirps, and you can hear voices in the background so you assume she’s somewhere busy. “Just landed in Florida!”

“You flew to Florida?” You ask, choking slightly. “Since when?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you! The team needed extra people since we’re staying here for longer than a night.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Is all you say because you don’t, in fact, remember, and suddenly feel really guilty about it. You haven’t actually spoken to Maria face-to-face in weeks, having been caught up in everything Andrei-related.

You haven’t talked to lots of people you were close to before Andrei came into the picture, now that you think about it. It’s a problem you’re sure to reflect on when you’re done talking to your friend.

“...bunch of us are going out tonight since the game isn’t until later tomorrow night, including a lot of the team.”

Maria’s voice tunes back in, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts to catch-up. “Really?” You inquire, now suddenly interested. “Is Andrei going with them?”

You could ask him yourself, sure, but you don’t really talk about that stuff, what he does or what you do in your free time. It always felt invasive to ask because you weren’t quite sure if you even had the right to, considering the nature of your relationship.

You doubt he thinks about what you do when you’re not with him, anyway, so you always just assume you can live in the moment with him and have that be good enough.

“Dunno,” She replies. “Can’t you ask him yourself? You’re seeing the man, after all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice at the last sentence.

“Um,” You stall, because no, you can’t just ask. “He just got off the plane, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Mhm,” Maria hums, and you can’t tell if she’s suspicious or not by her tone alone. “True. I’ll just text you if anything interesting happens, okay? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” You can’t help but laugh at her sudden hastiness, and soon enough she’s hanging up the phone with the claim that the team bus is there to take her to the hotel.

As your call with Maria is in the early afternoon, you have a while to wait before all night life in Florida begins, so any updates will take time to roll in. You know this, and yet you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

Distracting yourself by shopping helps, as does meeting up with a few of the WAG’s for a late lunch. You’re able to put your anxiety in the back of your mind for the rest of the day, and as the sun sets you pull back up to Andrei’s house and let yourself in with the spare key given to you, mind at peace as you float around his living space in preparation for bed.

You almost considered his place your home now, rather than your actual apartment. You’ve been spending so much time here, with him and also alone as everything with him seems to be going so good… When you settle into his bed, wearing one of Andrei’s large t-shirts and boxers, you check your phone one last time for any updates.

There’s a few Instagram notifications, one or two emails from your university, only one message in the groupchat with the WAG’s, and a text from Andrei which is what you zero in on first.

Settled in the hotel now. Leg is hurting, so I’m going to bed early tonight. Text you tomorrow, okay?

There’s no silly emojis, no indication of any emotion in his text, and yet you read the message with a smile, insecurities officially gone. His teammates are going out tonight, not him, and you don’t have to worry about Maria texting you later because there would be nothing to update you on.

How could you have ever doubted him?

You fall asleep peacefully, unbeknownst to the fact that long after midnight, your phone begins blowing up with silent notifications from Maria. She does, in fact, send you updates of her night out, but not updates you’ll smile at when you wake up the next day.

Sunlight filtered through closed eyes is what has you slowly awakening to the world of consciousness, and you stretch your arms with a yawn before reaching for your phone first thing. It’s hot to the touch, and at first you attribute that to it being stuck under your pillow the entire night, but upon unlocking the screen you discover that that is not the case.

WTF did you and Andrei break up?????

He’s here with the rest of the guys and he’s highkey flirting with some randos???

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were done w/ him!

You’re prettier than them btw. I snuck a few pics

Several more messages from Maria have taken over your inbox, those are just the first you see. It takes your brain a minute to catch-up, but when it finally does you’re sitting up with bated breath as you tap on one of the images she sent.

It’s definitely Andrei—you’d know his face anywhere. He is, in fact, surrounded by girls in the picture, his arm wrapped around the waist of a gorgeous blonde with a drink in his other hand, and it’s so reminiscent of the way he holds you at clubs that you know, you know immediately that this is what you meant to him all along.

The affectionate name-calling, gentle hand-holding and constant touching… You thought he looked back at you like you hung the moon, but now you’re realizing that maybe you were just projecting the reflection of your own starstruck eyes instead.

You sit up in bed, hand pressed to your forehead as a sudden headache rips through your brain. What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Remembering that you’re actually in this man’s house, in his clothes, too, has you jumping up like you’ve been burned, and you quickly exit the bedroom to collapse on the couch instead.

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, in disbelief as you click through more of the images sent to you from last night. There’s no denying to yourself that he was with these women, all while supposedly having a significant other waiting for him at home.

There’s no one to witness the slow breakdown of your sanity, and you can’t even cry because you’re so in shock about what you’re seeing

Is this real? Are you real? Is this really happening?

It’s almost like a switch in your brain goes off, and very quickly you drop your phone. You take a deep breath, you bury your raging emotions, and you stand up from the couch to start your day.

You refuse to allow yourself to break down now. Not when you still haven’t spoken to him. At the very least you’ll wait until you have an explanation…

To confront him on your very strong feelings you’ve been doing your best to ignore until now, because they’re too real in the wake of this discovery to just vanish away like you’ve done before.

You need to know where you stand with him. Truly, because these pictures you can’t stop thinking about? It’s too much. You can’t pretend it doesn’t feel like thousands of little knives stabbing your heart repeatedly even if it all means nothing to him.

Everything goes back to normal. Everything is fine. You never saw those pictures, ignored Maria's continuing calls and acted as if your world wasn’t suddenly tilted on its axis.

Andrei doesn’t text you at all throughout the day, which can probably be attributed to preparation of game three, but all you can think about are the girls he might be texting.

Because he certainly isn’t texting you.

Game three results in a loss, a bad one, and it would pain you to see the reactions on their faces filtered through the television if you weren’t so numb.

He still doesn’t text you. Doesn’t call, either, and Maria eventually gives up on trying to reach you as game four approaches.

The impending doom of Andrei bares down on you like a vice, slowly strangling you in the screaming silence of his house you still remain in. Maybe this is something you should have seen coming because it isn’t the first time he’s gone radio silent, you just assumed he was busy—because that’s what he told you.

You’re starting to think that maybe you shouldn’t have listened.

You love him though, right? That’s why you believed him? That’s what you’re feeling right now, why it’s like you can barely breathe when you think of his smile or the way he’s betrayed you so?

The Panthers sweep the Hurricanes, a complete four-game victory that sends Andrei and the rest of the team licking their wounds all the way back to North Carolina. You don’t watch the fourth game with anyone but yourself and a bottle of wine while catching up on homework for one of your classes.

Becoming so close to Andrei meant you became close to the rest of his teammates too, to the point where you’d consider some of them your good friends, so seeing their faces broadcasted live after the final goal is devastating to see.

Not as devastating as the text you receive, though, in the midst of trying to figure out what to say to him the moment he steps foot inside his house.

I won’t be home tonight, heading straight out with some of the younger guys. I will see you tomorrow

Well. You can’t say you’re surprised. You’re willing to bet money he’s out sleeping with some random girl whose name he won’t remember the next day. Instead of letting the anxiety take over, anger takes its place instead.

And boy do you run with it because anger is so much better than feeling powerless. It simmers in your blood, a wildfire settling low in your stomach until you’re practically shaking while waiting for Andrei to walk through the front door the next day.

When he finally does, you’re so mad you’re numb. Your anger has turned you into a ghost, an attempt at protecting your fragile heart from more heartbreak likely to fall upon you the moment he tries to charm you back into his good graces.

Once he spots you sitting on the couch, he smiles in greeting. It’s soft, and you’d like to say affectionate, but you no longer can tell how deep his feelings run for you.

Clearly, not deep enough.

“Kisa,” He says. “How are you? I’m sorry I was out late.”

“It’s fine,” You respond tightly. Andrei doesn’t seem to notice, merely nods before walking past you to the kitchen. You follow him silently, trying to figure out how to phrase your next words.

You end up settling on a subtle approach. “I’m sorry about the games… I know it must’ve sucked having to watch.”

He scoffs immediately, mutters something you don’t catch but still doesn’t turn around to face you as he rummages through his fridge. “It definitely was not fun to sit there, no.” He replies.

“Is that why you didn’t come back last night? You were coping with the loss?” You’re hoping your strong reference to his late-night escapades will spark something in him, but alas you still seem to be wrong and all he does is cast you a furtive glance before going back to his business.

God, you were just going to have to wring this out of him, weren’t you?

“Andrei,” You start, taking a deep breath. He still doesn’t stir. “Andrei, I know.”

Finally, he stops. Pauses mid-motion of whatever he’s doing, and his shoulders seem to tense in preparation of your foreboding words.

“There’s other girls, right? It’s not just me?” Your voice is already wobbling, and you’re glad he’s still refusing to face you because your eyes are slowly filling with tears, the agony of these last few days catching up to you.

This is when Andrei finally turns around. He meets your eyes last after scanning up and down your body; the clothes you’re wearing that aren’t his, your nails digging into your hands, and finally the bright flush of your face as you struggle not to explode.

“What do you mean?” Is what he says, looking at you calculatingly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Drei,” You whisper, invisible wires constricting around your throat as you force yourself to continue speaking. “Maria told me. She saw you. And you lied to me.”

Andrei doesn’t speak. He just stares, fingers clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide if he should approach you or not. After what seems like hours of silent battle, he replies, starting out by saying your name like a warning. “She… Maria had no right to tell you that.”

“Because I’m not actually your girlfriend, right?” Your response is immediate, and it hurts him if the flinch on his face is anything to go by. “You don’t owe me anything. Not a title, responsibility. You never promised me any of that so sleeping with other girls is perfectly okay.”

Everything you’re saying is true but it’s all wrong the way you’re looking at each other. Tears are now openly streaming down your cheeks and Andrei hasn’t moved since the moment you opened your mouth.

“Nothing to say?” It’s defeated, your entire demeanor as your shoulders sag and you fight the urge to collapse. “Yeah. I—I wouldn’t know what to say either.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrei whispers, and he doesn’t fight you which makes it all the more devastating. Everything you’re saying is true and it’s still all so wrong but he isn’t fighting you and wow, you’re really about to lose him, aren’t you?

“I think the worst part of this for me is that I actually let myself fall in love with you.” It’s your last-ditch effort of getting something out of him, anything that proves this isn’t completely one-sided on your end.

Andrei looks gutted at that. But he steels his resolve, his eyes go cold and he clenches his jaw as you try, one last time, to reach him.

“Do you love me?”

He’s staring at the wall behind you. No words fall from the lips you’ve kissed a thousand times until they finally do, and this is when you come to the realization that you’re ruined. You won’t ever look at another man the same because Andrei will forever haunt you in everything that you are and what you do.

“No. I don’t.”

You don’t put up much of a fight after that. You wave your white flag and slip past him to grab the small bag you’d packed earlier in preparation.

Andrei doesn’t move from his spot in the kitchen once. His face is tight, eyes dark and anguished as you drop his spare key on the counter. You look at him one last time, will him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

He never does—so you leave and you don’t look back.

It hurts worse because there really wasn’t a fight. There was no screaming, breaking glass, hurling insults at each other; it was a quiet acceptance of the end of a relationship that had no chance of lasting.

That’s what gets you. Not just because it’s over, but because he doesn’t love you like you love him.

You can’t believe you let yourself fall for it.

When you finally make it back to your apartment it feels like walking into an alternate reality, especially after an agonizing drive back full of nothing but silence and your thoughts.

You’ve practically lived with Andrei the last few months so much that you’ve forgotten you had a life before him. Maria comes to your mind immediately at that thought, and you can’t think of anything else you need more right now than your best friend.

Her phone only rings twice before she picks up. She says your name warily, likely because she hasn’t heard a word from you in two days.

“Hey,” You whimper, and you hate that you can tell how broken you sound. “Um, you were right. About Andrei. I… Talked to him about it. We’re done.”

There’s silence on the other end for several moments. Then:

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m coming over, and I’m bringing the fattest bottle of wine known to man, okay?”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears.

“Don’t respond, you can’t say no. I’ll see you in a few!”

And, well, you do nothing but let her hang up as you stare at your blank lock screen for a minute. Something possesses you to try and freshen up even though it’s just Maria, so you make your way to your bathroom.

Opening the door, your eyes land on your reflection in the mirror, your tear-stained eyes the same color red as the lipstick you wore the first time you met him. The same red of your heart, too, as you feel the shattering of it now more than ever.

It all goes back to him. Everything about you, your identity as ‘his girl’ reducing you to someone who doesn’t exist without him.

Fuck you, Andrei, you want to yell. Fuck you and fuck everything you put me through.

As you furiously rub your eyes, you realize you don’t know who you are anymore. You let yourself be molded into an unfamiliar version of yourself, into someone just for Andrei to want to keep around.

The tears start again, and you’re left sniffling in the suffocating silence of your bathroom. The only person who knew you, the you now, is gone.

And suddenly, you find yourself alone.

Well… Not totally alone. “Fuck him!” Maria shouts after she breaks into your apartment (she has your spare key) after you’d collapsed onto your couch and refused to open the door. “Seriously, fuck him. You’re way too good for him.”

“Weren’t you the one who convinced me to sleep with him in the first place?” Is your weak rebuttal, muffled and almost imperceptible as your head is burrowed in a pillow.

Your friend tsks, likely waving her arms around in that expressive way she does. “Yes, well. I never claimed to see the future. But now we know him for the piece of shit he is!”

Maria is your closest friend, yes, but you also know her to be someone who tells you what you want to hear. Right now, you’re feeling vengeful and angry, so she’s feeding into those emotions to make you feel better.

You know, in two months time or however long it takes you to process this, when you start missing him and tiptoe around the idea of calling him, she’ll support you then, too.

Which probably isn’t what you need, but, whatever. You’re just grateful you have someone on your side.

“I need…” You start, not quite sure how to phrase what you’re wanting. “I need to forget.”

“A one nightstand type of forget or get so drunk you pass out type of forget?”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought of sleeping with someone so soon. As much as you hate it, you don’t think you’ll ever stop craving Andrei’s body.

No man ever could make you feel that good…

“Get drunk,” You say, quirking a small smile at the whoop she lets out. “I can’t fuck someone right now. At least not yet.”

“Yeah,” The blonde agrees, sighing almost wistfully. “I’d feel the same if I knew what his dick felt like.”

“Maria!” You shriek, throwing a spare pillow as hard as you can her way. It misses, but does the job of lightening the mood and keeps you giggling the rest of the night.

She does her job in making you forget, though. Makes you put on one of your shortest dresses and gets you drink after drink until you’re hunched over a toilet in the back of some bar gagging your stomach out.

You wake up the next day with the worst hangover ever, but Maria is fairing the same and somehow you consider it worth it. Maybe you can live your life again without him.

You’ve done it before, right?

And really, it’s ridiculous when you let yourself think about how you’d only been seeing the man for five months and he completely managed to send your world careening in that timespan. So, you don’t let yourself think about it. Instead, you live.

For yourself, for your friends, for your heart that won’t ever be full but feels a little bit better every time you wake up each day without Andrei next to you.

You graduate university with your bachelor’s and get a job that’s even better than your last, and you make a really good group of friends at said-job without Maria’s help (though she’ll always be your best). The summer passes by with melancholy laughter and gentle healing, and while your first love always remains in the back of your mind, you think about him less.

So much less that you lose track of time, not even realizing that October of twenty twenty-three is here and the NHL season is starting back up. You haven’t spoken to any of the WAG’s since you broke it off with Andrei, assuming you would no longer be welcome in the ‘clique’ and preferring to separate yourself from a group associated with someone who brought you so much pain, so there haven’t been any reminders about the new season from them.

The memories of him are fleeting. They’ll come to you at random times, and now that you’ve lived in the past yet again, you can forget about the end where Andrei is a distant thought but every time his name is brought up it squeezes your heart so much you can’t breathe.

You’re doing better. Truly, you are. You’d stopped crying over him long ago, and you might have gone to class with swollen eyes and showed up to work despondent, but you’re working through it in your own way. Healing isn’t linear but you’re making progress slowly but surely.

One day, you wake up with a sudden determination to officially ‘get back out there’, per Maria’s words. There’s nothing spectacular about this day; it’s only mid-November, the weather in that awkward stage of autumn morphing into winter.

Maybe it’s because the night before you’d succumbed to the urge to search up the Hurricanes’ schedule, curious to when they’d be home and not.

It’s only a coincidence that they have a home game when you call your friends from work, asking if they’d like to go out after everyone gets off. It’s also a coincidence when you meet someone at said-bar you attend, and it’s absolutely insane how if you squint he kind of looks like Andrei.

Oh, but he’s so, so sweet… His name is Jack and he buys you and your friends drinks, keeps a respectful distance yet never strays far when you’re wrapped into another conversation. He asks for your number at the end of the night and you give it to him without hesitation, taking note of the way he creates your contact in his phone himself.

“You like cats?” He asks as he’s still typing away, and your breath catches in your throat because it’s a question that makes you think of the first night you met him. When you don’t respond, he gestures towards your keychain attached to the strap of your handbag.

“You have little kittens on your keychain. I think that’s what I’ll add to your name, yeah?” Jack laughs a little shyly, and it’s cute but you keep replaying kisa in your mind over and over in a Russian accent you never could quite imitate.

“Yeah, I do like cats,” You say, flushing at the sudden amusement in his eyes. “I like them a lot.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time texting you the next day, and the normalcy of it freaks you out a little. Where’s the anxiety? The stomach-dropping nerves that come with talking to someone new? The constant wondering if they like you or not?

It’s so safe and secure that it hurts, because it was never like that before.

Everyone in your life is so supportive, though, but that only makes it worse because they can see how good this man is for you, but why can’t you? You feel like pulling your hair out when he texts you good morning and goodnight and sick to your stomach when he shows up during your lunch break with flowers.

However, there’s no one is more enthusiastic about Jack's new presence in your life than Maria.

“He’s a dream guy, honestly,” She swoons, kicking her feet back on her ottoman. “You’re so lucky. I would kill for a guy I met at a bar to be so smitten with me he shows up to my job with flowers.”

You hum in agreement, unable to come up with something to say. “He… Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”

The blonde eyes you from where you’re curled up on her couch, deliberately avoiding her stare as you mindlessly watch whatever is on the TV. “You guess? He’s perfect!”

“On paper,” You retort, huffing slightly in frustration at yourself because why can’t you see what everyone else sees? “I don’t really know him.”

“Yet. You don’t really know him yet.” She helpfully points out. “Why don’t you want to give him a chance?”

“I… I do. I am giving him a chance. Maybe I’m just not feeling it.”

“He’s not Andrei, babe.”

You fight the powerful urge to scoff. I know, you want to scream. I know. That’s the problem.

Jack is too perfect for you. You want the ups and downs, the electrifying chemistry, the undeniable connection you’ve felt with no one else before. You crave the feeling of those past five months, of being with someone who lit you up to your very core.

It’s been almost eight months and you still can’t get him out of your head.

You give Jack a rightful chance, though, like everyone in your life is begging you to. You can’t bring yourself to end it because there really is nothing wrong, it’s a perfect getting-to-know-you stage which checks off all the boxes. It’s just that you don’t want normal because normal is boring.

You want chaos. And Andrei is chaos personified.

Unbeknownst to you, Maria is still very good friends with a lot of the WAG’s and talks about you when they ask. They miss you, it turns out, but your friend never tells you this in fear of sending you into a depressive spiral that tends to happen when they’re brought up. They’re ecstatic to hear that your life seems to be going so well after the breakup, especially after seeing Andrei’s reaction to it all.

This is something Maria doesn’t tell you, either. She’s such a good friend, protecting your heart like that. Andrei did not come out of his house after you ended it the same person; he was a little darker, a little angrier, frustrated in a way that suggested nothing could be done to fix it.

It doesn’t help that he couldn’t take it out by playing hockey, because he wasn’t cleared to play until the end of October, a month into the regular season.

He never admits his sour mood is partly to blame you for. Not that it’s your fault—he’s the one who fucked up, not you.

Never you.

Maria knows all of this and still gives him the cold shoulder for his treatment of you. None of the girls were very happy after finding out while his teammates just gave him awkward pats on the back. It doesn’t stop him from finding out about you, though, and what you’re up to.

The WAG’s talk. They’re gossip machines, and while normally he hates them for it because he always has to watch what he says around them, this time he’s thankful because they tell their husbands and boyfriends everything.

He’s at Martin and his girlfriend, Nykki’s, apartment watching their cavapoo, Gigi, when he finds out you’re seeing someone new. They’re heatedly talking about something when they walk in and don’t see him on the floor cuddling Gigi, so he doesn’t interrupt.

“I mean, I’m not surprised, but wow. It certainly took her a while to move on, didn’t it?”

He hears a smack, assumes Nykki has hit him on the arm like she typically does when he pisses her off. “She loved him, of course it took time!”

“Ow!” He hisses, though it’s clearly in jest. “Well, yeah, but like… It’s been months. And it’s not like she’s in contact with any of us anymore to remind her of him.” Andrei notes the sourness in his teammate’s voice, feels his heart drop because he thinks he knows who they’re talking about, now.

“Still,” Nykki replies. “I was so sad after my first heartbreak. They take a while to heal from, especially when it’s not a clean ending. It’s no secret how Andrei treated her.” She’s frowning when she continues. “I wish I could give her a hug, but I get it. I wouldn’t want to see any of us, either.”

Martin sighs. “I get it, too. I sure do miss the wine she’d bring though. She had the best fucking taste, ever.”

“Of course you only miss her for her alcohol.”

Andrei decides to clear his throat at this moment. When he does so, Martin and Nykki whip their heads towards him on the floor, surprise and guilt decorating their faces when they see him holding Gigi rather dejectedly.

He starts by saying your name, even surprises himself when it comes out biting and, dare he say it… Jealous? “She’s seeing someone?”

Martin and Nykki share a glance. Gigi chooses this as the time to leap up from his lap and run towards her parents where Martin happily picks her up. “I’m going to go take her out. Thanks for watching, ‘Drei!” He quickly flees the apartment, and Nykki says something under her breath as she glares after him.

They both know Andrei isn’t letting this go.

“Do you remember Maria, her friend? Works in the Hurricanes’ marketing department?” She eventually says, joining him on the floor.

“The blonde one? Yes,” He replies, and even though there are many blondes working for the team he knows exactly who she’s talking about. She’s your best friend, after all, and he knows everything about you.

Like how he knows you will never get over him. Conceited? Yes, but he had (has) you wrapped around his finger.

“Well, she talks to a lot of us still, despite everything that happened. And she tells us things.” Nykki pauses, almost like she’s scared to go on.

“Things like?” Andrei inquires. “How she is doing? Who she is doing?”

She glares at him then, eyes narrowing into slits. “Not that you really have a right to know, but yes.”

His fingers dig into his palms and his jaw cramps with how much he’s trying to keep from exploding.

“So, she’s seeing some guy now?” He scoffs like the very idea is incredulous. As if whatever pathetic excuse of a man you’re talking to could ever compare to him.

“She has a right to move on, Andrei. You should too. You ruined her.”

That fact remains true, but he still has no desire to ever let you go as he deliberately ignores her advice, well-meaning as it is.

How ruined could you really be if you’re already with somebody else?

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to run into you because you avoid him like the plague. You know everywhere he and his teammates frequent so you stopped showing up long ago, and he’s pretty sure you keep a several hundred-foot radius between you and PNC Arena at all times. He doesn’t blame you, but it pisses him off to know he can’t easily find you.

Christmas passes, you spend it with Jack and Andrei spends it with his Russian teammates. The New Year arrives just as quickly, and as he locks lips with some random girl at the party he’s at he thinks of you. Wonders who you’re with, if you’re kissing that guy Nykki told him about.

You actually flew back home to spend it with your parents, giving Jack some weak excuse about how you weren’t able to see them over the holidays.

North Carolina winter is in full force as February of twenty twenty-four rolls around, and your life remains inexplicably boring while Andrei’s picks up. The Hurricanes are finally having a redemption arc after their awful first-half of the season, and thus are heading out to celebrate far more often than normal.

They’re more daring in where they choose to go, too, wanting to branch out of their norms, because why not?

This is really unfortunate for you. Horrifying, actually, because you’re out with your friends, Jack, and his friends too when the team comes strolling in. Eyes instantly shoot their way, aweing at the miniature celebrities in their own right for finally bringing a good professional sports team to NC.

The moment Andrei steps foot in the establishment you know. Your skin catches fire, your ears ring, and your heart thunders inside your chest because only man can set off your senses so powerfully.

You look away from Jack - who thankfully doesn’t notice, he’s sucked into a conversation with one of his friends - and find Andrei approaching the bar with Martin and Seth. He hasn’t noticed you yet and you try to keep that from happening as you sink down into your seat, flashing your friends an exaggerated smile when they eye you curiously.

You’re unable to hide for long, though, when a song bursts from the speakers and sends everyone into an excited frenzy, your group included as they crowd the dance.

Luckily you’re able to escape that particular rally and wave Jack off when he asks you if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” You shout over the bass rattling your eardrums. “Just letting my drink settle a bit.”

He doesn’t question you, merely nods and smiles before disappearing somewhere with his friends. Now, you’re alone, and you can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing because now you have a perfect view of Andrei and his teammates leaning against the bar, looking far too good as they do so.

You can’t keep your eyes off him. You never could, especially can’t now as you soak up every little change your eyes can see. He has a scruff now, a sexy five o’clock shadow that you know firsthand how it feels between your thighs. His hair is a little longer, too—you wonder if it’s still as soft as you remember.

Jack suddenly appears from a break in the crowd and oh, yeah, fuck you can’t be thinking about your ex like this, can you? No, you aren’t officially with Jack, but it’s still wrong. He likes you so much, you know this, and you… Don’t hate him?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bemoan to yourself, torn between the angel on your left and the devil on your right that don’t give you the chance to decide because you feel eyes baring into your skull, begging you to notice them. Your entire being freezes, stuck in between some weird limbo as you lock eyes with Andrei for the first time in months.

There’s no one else but you and him as neither one of you refuses to break first, and you only lose eye contact when a group of people walks between you. When they’re gone and you’re able to freely look again, you realize he’s gone from his spot at the bar. All his teammates are still there, and they’ve now spotted you too.

Would it be wrong to call an uber and just tell Jack you felt sick?

Your name is suddenly being whispered into your ear, and you would have flinched if the sound of his voice didn’t have you relaxing back into your seat. You refuse to look up at first, because if you look at him so close to you again you’ll fold.

“Andrei,” You greet, quietly. “How are you?” You still aren’t looking at him, choosing to swirl around the drink in your hand instead.

“I’m good,” He replies, so close you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You lean into it almost subconsciously until he’s sliding into the booth next to you, pressing the two of you together. “How are you, my kisa?”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You retort, finally meeting his eyes to cast him a withering glare.

“No?” Andrei reaches a hand up to brush some stray hairs from your face. So delicate his touch, he trails his hand down your cheek, your neck, and down your waist until landing on your thigh. You don’t stop him, either.

“That’s funny. I could have sworn that you’re mine.”

“I’m not,” You squirm under his touch, unable to push him away. “I haven’t been in months. Wasn’t ever ‘yours’ to begin with. You made sure of that.”

Andrei doesn’t appreciate the call out. The way his face twists is mean and you know whatever he’s going to say will hurt. “Right,” He scoffs, is snide with the way he tones it. “But you’re his?”

He gestures towards Jack, who thankfully is enraptured in a tense game of pool on the other side of the room. You don’t question how he already knows that’s who you’re with.

“I’m not anyone’s, Andrei.”

“Yes you are. You might have thought that because we haven’t seen each other we are just over?” He leans into you, doesn’t let you break eye contact as he gets so close your noses touch. “No. I bet me being so close to you right now has you soaked, and you want to know how I know that?”

Your throat is tight as you swallow. You can’t look away as you move to shake your head, but strange, because it comes out as a nod instead.

“You’re not ‘over me’, malyshka. You’ll never be over me. You love me.”

His grin is feral, his words biting as they cut through you at such a vulnerable level it has you flinching back from his touch immediately.

“Oh, fuck you, Andrei,” You hiss, an angry sheen of tears starting to gloss over your eyes. “Fuck you. I don’t love you anymore—especially not now.”

You move to slip around him but his arm shoots out and stops you in your tracks, leaving you frozen as he stands to tower over you.

“Careful,” He murmurs. “Your boy over there might think something’s wrong. Maybe I should introduce myself, make sure he knows I would never dare hurt you.”

“You don’t have to touch me to hurt me. You did that plenty without having to lift a finger.” You retort. “Now, get out of my way. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“But what if I want to talk to you?” You really hate the height difference between the two of you right now because it takes no effort at all for him to slide a muscular arm around your waist and keep you glued to his side. “Maybe I have missed you.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” You mutter, but he ignores you as he begins to lead you away from the booth you were in before. “My friends will wonder where I am if I’m not at the booth when they get back.”

“Not worried about your boy?” He mocks, noting the way you don’t mention Jack at all. “They won’t have enough time to notice.”

You narrow your eyes at his insinuating words as he stops at the bar, waving down the bartender who comes immediately. “His name is Jack.” You mutter, thinking he can’t hear you. He continues talking, ignoring you, and you’re unable to hear him over the noise so you don’t bother trying to understand what he’s asking for.

Soon enough there’s a drink sliding across the bar counter and Andrei pushes it in front of you. You eye the glass, making note of the fact that the liquid is red. “Vodka cranberry,” He confirms what you’re already thinking.

You flash back to the night you first met and suddenly you want nothing to do with the drink in front of you. “No thanks, I don’t want it.” You say, trying to step away.

You don’t get far, though, because he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you rather harshly back to him. “Drink it,” He demands, watches your eyes and the way they dart from his face and back to the glass nervously. He sighs, then, like he’s realized something and lets go of your wrist only to land back on your hip. “It’s… Nothing is wrong with it. I didn’t touch it.”

He thinks you’re worried about being drugged? You almost laugh but manage to hold it back, because of course he doesn’t remember that this is the first drink he ever got you.

Your heart beats a little faster as you concede, finally picking up the drink and taking a tiny sip. He waits for your reaction like he’s the one who made it. “It’s good,” You finally say, licking the sweetness from your lips.

Andrei watches you, your eyes, your lips, everything about as time seems to stop and it’s just you and him, like it’s supposed to be.

You haven’t changed all that much, and you can tell he likes that. Your hair is a little shorter, you’re perhaps a little thinner now that you’re not on a college student diet, but you’re still you.

Andrei hasn’t changed either. You’re the same yet so different, and it’s incredibly difficult resisting the temptation to fall back into old habits.

“I’ve missed you,” He admits quietly, and you think it’s sincere this time. You wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t standing so close together.

Your heart thunders in your chest. You might be sweating out of nerves, or maybe it’s just the club. Your hands itch to touch him, and with more alcohol in you thanks to the cranberry you don’t stop Andrei as he succumbs to his urges first and uses one, large hand to cup your cheek.

You shudder as he caresses the skin, his thumb landing on your bottom lip and stroking it lightly. “Andrei,” You breathe, pupils blown wide. “You can’t—we can’t…”

He tilts his head, reminiscent of a dog. “Why not? You are not single?” He has you. He knows you know he does. You aren’t nearly as committed to Jack as much as you’d like yourself to be.

“I can’t do that to him,” You try weakly, already feeling your will bending to the persuasiveness of his touch.

His head lowers, hand remaining on your cheek as he brushes your lips together. You crave it, you realize, and move to fully push your mouths together but he’s pulling back before you get the chance.

“Go to the bathroom.” He says. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Will you?” You ask, the double-meaning clear as you stare at each other, neither willing to break.

Andrei’s face is unreadable. You can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing as his hands land on your hips and he turns you around in the direction of the restrooms. “Go,” He taps your ass, nudging you forward. “I’ll be there.”

You give in this time. You’re aware of the astronomically bad decision you’re making as you cut the line, faking a sick stomach and whispering ‘sorry’ over and over again in your head as the nice ladies let you through.

When you close the door you immediately make your way to the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, and with mussed hair and smudged lipstick you should be feeling ashamed.

All you feel is anticipation, though. For Andrei’s hands on your body, for his mouth to kiss all the spots he’s missed.

Several minutes go by and the knocks on the bathroom door become more frequent. You think he’s bailed on you - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time - but then you hear his voice outside.

“Da, yes, she’s in there,” A pause. “She’s my girlfriend, she needs me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, turning to face the door as he knocks and can hear his voice more clearly.

Yes, you do need him.

“Kisa,” He says, slightly muffled but you feel the effect he has on you is all the same. “I’m here. Let me in?” He’s almost begging, and you quickly unlock the door as he pushes through.

His smile is mischievous as he closes the door behind him. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He purposefully raises his voice, shows faux concern and plays it up in case anyone is listening outside.

“You’re so dramatic,” You say, pulling him down to you by the collar of his shirt. Now that you’re alone you don’t bother pretending you don’t want him as much as you do. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Andrei relents immediately, closing the distance between the two of you. Both his hands come up to the sides of your head to keep you in place, tilting you in whatever way he likes. His lips are just as soft as you remember, and your bodies move together like they were never apart.

He’s demanding as he begins pushing you back, crowding you against the tiny bathroom wall. His words from outside come back to you suddenly, and you break the kiss to catch a breath as his lips begin a trail across your cheeks. “Girlfriend?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I had to get them to let me through somehow.” It’s not what you want to hear but you lose the urge to fight him on it as he reaches your neck and begins sucking little hickeys onto the sensitive skin. Your head falls back with a sigh, uncaring of your hair catching whatever germs might lie on the wall.

You let Andrei do what he wants to your neck for a few moments, then when the urge to taste his lips comes again you grab the back of his hair and pull him up to you. He goes willingly, and you moan into his mouth as he continues to push back against you so hard you can feel his dick through his jeans.

He pulls back much too soon for your taste, and you try to follow but suddenly one of the hands holding your head comes down to wrap around your throat, restricting your breath as he pushes you back. You go to speak, but his other hand is leaving your face to unbutton his jeans one-handed.

You watch, eyes heavy-lidded. “‘Drei?” The weight on your neck is comfortable, so you don’t bother moving as he shoves the rest of his jeans along with his boxers down his thick thighs.

“You want to talk to other guys?” He starts with a bite. “Then you can remember the taste of my cock in your mouth while you do it.”

Your blood pressure skyrockets as the hand on your throat leaves to pull your hair back out of your face, grasps it like a rope, and pushes you down to your knees.

You’re at eye-level with his cock as it bobs in front of you, angry and swollen with beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip. He stares down at you expectantly, has to hold back a groan at your wide-eyed gaze looking so innocent.

As your lips wrap around his tip he’s reminded of the fact that no, you are not innocent. He made you that way. Fucked you like no man ever could. Ruined you for everyone but him. His feelings for you are complicated, but he does understand one thing…

Andrei doesn’t want you, not really. But he hates to think about you with somebody else.

Your tongue is masterful in its work as it swirls around his head, and once you get comfortable you begin going down. His head falls back and this time he doesn’t hold back his noises as your warm, wet mouth envelopes him.

“Missed this mouth,” He grunts as you suck. “Like it much better when you can’t speak.”

It’s insulting and degrading, yet it doesn’t fail to turn you on as you squirm and rub your thighs together in hopes it’ll give you the friction you need.

His hand in your hair soon starts pulling, sliding your mouth forward and back in increasing motions as he gets closer. He’s unabashedly groaning now, and you can see his abs clench when you suck a certain way.

Suddenly, you have the urge to have him fall apart before you. Maybe it’s revenge, wanting to see him lose control for you like you’ve done for him so many times; you tilt your head, using your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his cock and that has him jerking into you.

“Fuck,” He hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” The praise goes directly to your clit, and you whimper as it throbs with no relief.

Despite being apart for almost a year, you still know what every twitch of his body means. You know he’s close because the hand in your hair is gripping you tighter, you can feel the steadily increasing tempo of his heartbeat through his pulsing cock, and his thighs are ever so slightly trembling underneath your hands.

You want him to come in your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more; your efforts increase and you dig your nails into his skin to hear him hiss and as his thrusts pick up he starts hitting the back of your throat.

Internally thanking your lacking gag reflex, you don’t flinch as he picks up speed, now blatantly using your mouth for his own pleasure with little regard for your comfort. “Shit, baby,” He blurts, desperate. “I’m gonna cum.” You hum in response, the vibrations of the sound finally throwing him over the edge.

Andrei throws his head back for a final time, one long groan emulating from his unfairly sculpted chest as his cum hits the back of your throat. You’ve always loved the taste of him and this time is no different as you suck him deeper, not wanting to waste a drop.

He takes a few moments to collect himself and in that timeframe your ears slowly stop ringing and you come back to reality, finding that your knees ache from being pressed into the floor and there are loud voices coming from outside the bathroom door.

As you move to stand, he too seems to remember where you’re at and uses both arms to pull you the rest of the way until you’re back to standing. You swipe your hair out of your face as his thumb comes to your lip, wiping away a stray drop of his release.

Despite the post-orgasmic clarity, he looks at you with softness and something else swimming in his dark eyes. “You’re still good at that,” He states. “Been sucking anyone else off?” His words are quiet but every bit threatening as you note the possessiveness in his tone.

“No,” You gasp as his thumb pushes its way into your mouth. “Just you. Only you,”

“That’s right,” He says. “Just me. Only me.” Then he’s spinning you around, fingers remaining pressed into your mouth while the other trails up your spine until he’s gripping the back of your neck. “Hear them outside?” He asks.

The ‘them’ he’s referring to, you realize, are the voices outside the bathroom. They’re much louder now, a few knocks mixed in, and you wonder with slight panic how a manager hasn’t come to unlock the door yet.

“They sound very angry, don’t they?” That same hand on the back of your neck strokes your skin, slowly working its way down to your waistband. “So we better make it quick. Hands on the wall, kisa,”

You know the moment he pulls down your pants he’ll find you to be unabashedly soaking. Despite claiming to be in a hurry, he takes his time working open the button of your jeans, grazing the skin above your panties before ever so slowly sliding them down your legs.

“Andrei,” You hiss, impatient. “Hurry up!” As the hand in your mouth retreats, you realize you’re both needy and nervous, an overwhelming combination.

He only laughs. “Someone is needy,” He mocks, holding your hips in place when you try wiggling against him. “Patience.” Leaning into your ear he murmurs this, staying this way as he fully slides your jeans past your knees.

Andrei sneaks his hand in between your thighs, something resembling a growl rumbling from his chest when his fingers find your dripping folds, feeling how you throb for him. “Missed this pussy even more,” He breathes, lubricating his fingers with your slick before slowly circling your clit. Your arms shake from where they hold you up and it’s a battle to keep yourself from collapsing.

“You are just made for me, aren’t you?”

You’re so wet you practically suck him in as he guides his dick to your entrance, and he wastes no preamble as he pushes in. If he thought your mouth was heaven after so much time apart, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him in so deep doesn’t even compare. His hands are digging into your hips as he ruts into you fully with one thrust, panting as your warmth contracts around him.

“Still so fucking tight,” He marvels like he can’t believe it, like it’s a dream you feel even better than when he replays the memories of you on repeat. “You been waiting for me?” He’s not expecting a response as his rhythm picks up, finding a familiar pace for the both of you that has him swearing under his breath and you struggling not to shout your pleasure to the rooftops.

“God,” You cry out when the head of his cock directly hits your g-spot, your hips jerking up so hard you would have fallen if it weren’t for Andrei holding you up. “Fuck, Andrei, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Andrei laughs, a sound that would have been more menacing if he also wasn’t gasping for air. “Already?” He mocks. “I barely touched you, baby,”

You don’t have to touch me, it’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to be blurted out. You don’t have to touch me for me to be on my knees for you. The words are ready, but instead all that comes out is a moan and maybe that’s for the best because he probably wouldn’t respond as well as he does in your dreams.

He’s unaware of your internal dilemma as he leans over you, pressing his clothed chest to your back. “Gotta be fast,” He reminds you, as if you’d forgotten. “You ready?”

“No, I—I can’t,” Because you don’t want this to be over. You don’t want to cum because he’ll follow you right after and then when clarity hits he’ll leave you again and you’ll be back to square one.

“Yes, you can” He croons. “I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you, I’m right here.” You want to sob as one of his hands leaves your hip and finds the junction of your bodies, gentle fingers prodding your pussy spread-wide around him until he finds your clit and rubs.

Your body is trembling and you can’t tell if you’re trying to move towards him or away, but it doesn’t matter anyways because he has you trapped between the wall and his body and the unrelenting pace of his hips slamming into you.

You have a sudden urge to look him in the eyes before you come undone by his cock and his fingers, so you crane your head to the side and watch him watch you. His hair is damp from sweat at the corners of his hairline, his lips slightly open as he pants and you think you spot him lick his lips when he catches you staring. You go to say something but he swoops down, catching your mouth with his own and promptly shuts you up.

Andrei doesn’t relent in his motions despite the uncomfortable position, not letting you break from his lips by removing his hand at your hip and gripping your face to keep you right here. He owns you, at this point, mind, body, and soul as your lungs beg for breath while your clit throbs beneath his fingers and oh, oh, there it is and you’re gone—

You feel the rough pads of his fingers bullying your clit but you don’t really focus on it until now, how the calloused ridges carelessly sweep over you with no semblance of relief and only when you body abruptly freezes does he part from you, but only slightly, leaving a hair’s width of space between your lips. “Beautiful,” He says, under his breath so quietly you don’t hear him as your bones catch fire and your brain short-circuits.

Heat sears you from the inside-out and you do nothing but endure as Andrei rocks you through it. There’s tears of ecstasy streaming down your face, you’re sure of it now, and you think he’s wiping them from your cheeks but you can’t open your eyes enough to check.

It takes a few minutes, but once your heart stops racing you can hear your favorite voice swearing behind you and only then do you comprehend him still moving inside you, but before you can whine at the sensitivity he’s stilling with a long, drawn-out groan.

You don’t dare speak first, nor are you the first to move. The air around you is stagnant with tension as you rest your head on your arms, breathing deeply to catch your breath. What does this mean? You’re spiraling already and it’s only been minutes since your desperate fuck in this bathroom.

Eventually, Andrei moves first. He slides his softened dick from you with a hiss and you feel his cum trickling out without him there to keep it plugged in. Wrinkling your nose at the feeling of having to walk around with wet inner thighs now, you slowly stand up as his hands fall from your body. You slide your panties and jeans back up the rest of your legs, ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity of being covered once again.

Neither of you speaks a word. You want to cry suddenly, and this time not from pleasure. “What did we just do?” You manage to choke out, your voice so hoarse you have to clear it. He’s clearly planning on just leaving without a word but you’re not going to let him.

You stare at him expectantly. He’s turned around so all you have in your view is his slide profile, clearly struggling with what to say as his jaw clenches tightly.

“Nothing,” He finally says, and he might as well just fucking stab you in the back. “We did nothing. You’re going to go back out there and pretend nothing happened because it didn’t.”

Oh, he makes you so angry. You can’t believe you’d forgotten that. “You’re serious?” You know he is but you don’t want to believe it.

Andrei meets your glassy eyes and you wish you could read him like he so easily can read you. He looks as conflicted as the day you walked out of his house for the last time, like he has so many words to say but refuses to let them fall from his lips. Just like then, you know this rendezvous means more to him than just a meaningless hookup.

If only he’d admit it…

He exhales a shaky breath as another loud knock disturbs you. “We need to go.” He dodges your question just like he dodges every issue in his life, especially in regards to you. “Come on, kisa.”

“You can’t just call me that, after—after this,” You hiss as he grabs your arm and pulls you towards the door. You panic on the inside as he unlocks it because once you leave this dirty sanctuary you know your problems will only get worse.

Strange, how Andrei manages to make everything worse despite making you feel so good.

As if your emotions don’t matter to him (they really don’t), he flashes you a grin as he drags you behind him, past the angry horde of people who, now that you think about it, definitely know you were fucking. “I know you like it.” Spoken so simply, so plain, you hate that he’s right.

You’ll always like it. Always love him. For as long as you’re hung up over him it will always come back to bite you in the ass and he knows this too.

It’s why, without shame, his arm is curled possessively around your waist as he leads you through the crowd of people. Your friends, Jack, don’t even cross your mind as he does so.

“Go find your friends,” He soon leans down to whisper in your ear. “Then find Jack. Tell him you felt sick and had to use the bathroom.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You snap, purposefully antagonizing him.

Andrei merely raises a brow at you. “You can always stay with me, with my cum dripping down your legs, and explain to everyone how you missed me so much you couldn’t stay away.”

You want to hit him. You almost do, but he continues before you actually go through with it.

“I wonder what Jack would say?” Of course he was listening to you earlier. He ignored you then, of course, but he listened.

And yeah, okay, you get it. Not a good idea to let everyone you know see you with him. He doesn’t want his friends to see him with you, either.

“Trying to get rid of me?” You ask, intending to sound sarcastic but it comes off as more insecure than you wanted it to.

You know he is, but you can’t help but ask for confirmation. Maybe it would help you move on to hear how little he actually cares for you.

“I don’t think I could get rid of you if I tried,” He replies. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “You’ll never get rid of me though.”

He’s right, again. You hate so much that he is because you both know you’ll be crawling back the moment he calls.

You want to cry again as his arm leaves your waist, the absence of his heat leaving you shivering.

Andrei looks at you for a long time, just appraising. He tilts his head like he doesn’t know what to think, but then he spots something behind you and starts backing up.

“I will see you again someday, kisa.” He winks at you, and then he’s gone.

Someone behind you taps your shoulder while speaking into your ear, a voice you recognize as one of the girls you came with. You should probably focus, banish Andrei from your mind, but you don’t.

You strain your neck, watching for him through the crowd. He’s back at the bar with his friends, his teammates you once knew.

He’s laughing at something one of them said. Like he wasn’t just with you, fucking you against the bathroom walls.

“Are you okay?” Your friend behind you asks, the one thing from her you do catch.

“Yeah,” You say, swallowing despite the dryness in your throat. Andrei is talking to more people now, girls that have approached him, you notice. “I’m fine.”

He looks gorgeous under the lights. You catch his brilliant smile, the glimmer of his eyes, and those lips you can never get enough of. You soon lose sight of him amidst the throng of people, but his fleeting allure forever lingers...

Like a steadfast reminder, a haunting echo of what can never be.

A/N: Well, that was fun. I hurt my own feelings writing this but it was worth it. I hope you guys enjoyed! Please remember to reblog & comment!!

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[generalkenobee]

Kylo finding you after being snatched from him and all he can focus on is getting you 🥹

"I wouldn't stop till I found you"

Hey so I literally thought I wrote this and had it posted but apparently Tumblr was being dumb so please don't be upset 😭

Warnings: language, violence, Kylo being the angry hoe he is, death, let me know if I missed anything:)

(he's so pretty omfg-)

"no, I don't think you understand." KYLOS VOUCE was so loud that it echoed through the hanger bag as he yelled at an assortment of different piolets and stormtroopers.

"we won't rest till she's found. We won't stop for anything, it doesn't matter what it is. This is our top priority!"

Kylo felt hot white rage seeping into his body. Why did they have to take you. They could've taken a stormtrooper, a cadet, Hux, there were so many people who knew more.

You were completely innocent, sitting in the rebels interrogation room being yelled at by some man with short brown curls, he was going on about how "we won't let you go till you tell us" he was going on with the act of why they would do.

"Poe stop it. It's not like she's Ren" a tall, young girl with quite the completion walked into the room slapping Poe's shoulder "I'll take it from here"

The women looked at you for a moment almost as if you was deciding something.

"you're not evil..you're" she paused taking your hand in hers and closing her eyes "well you're a kind soul with nothing but good intentions...why are you with Ren?"

You looked up at her from your seat not saying a word

---

"Supreme Leader, we've found something on the meridian system" The general said turning his data pad towards Kylo.

"well? Why are you still here ?! Go get the fighters ready and prepare my ship, we're going to the meridian system."

The supreme leader walked away from Hux feeling a new sense of pride in hopes of finding you.

---

"there they are sir"

"prepare for landing near the south passage. I have a Jedi to kill"

When his ship landed he practically jumped out and ran toward the entrance, saber in hand

He was so mad that anyone who came near him got thrown to the ground via the force. He didn't stop running till he got to the interaction room when you were sitting with Rey, her hand in yours

Now this was a sight to behold. How dare she?

Kylo used his saber to cut a hole through the door and walked through

"why?! Why would you take her?! She doesn't know anything, you could've taken anyone on the ship but you took her!" Kylo screamed throwing Rey against the wall so hard that there was now a crack where she had hit.

"Kylo!" You screamed jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs around him pulling him closer

"I-I didn't tell them anything-" hot tears started to pool in your eyes while Kylo traced your back giving it light scratches "I missed you so much..I didn't know if I would ever see you again.."

Kylo looked at you and laid his lips into yours more gentle then he ever has

"you know I wouldn't stop till I found you"

[skateordiebitch]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT

stoner!dominic x innocent!reader

likeeeee maybe they meet at a party which reader was forced to go to by a friend. reader like, doesn’t drink, never let a joint touch her lips. she somehow gets rlly attached to dom, then he offers her a blunt but reader’s like “oh, i don’t smoke” and he’s FLABBERGASTED

maybe he tries to get her to smoke, idk, just thinking “i don’t care that you’re a stoner” red wine supernova vibes. ty lovely 💋💋

RED WINE SUPERNOVA || D.F x reader

‘baby, why don't you come over?

red wine supernova, falling into me

i don't care that you're a stoner

red wine supernova, fall right into me’

summary: you aren't a party person, yet you end up at a party. you don't drink or smoke; but lucky for you, dominic desires a little more than just weed.

word count: 2.6k

note: this is so cute like omg 😭 inspired by 'red wine supernova' by miss chappell roan, obviously. this request captures the chemistry perfectly!!! i hope you guys love it as much as i loved writing it. as always feel free to send in requests! <3

You weren’t really sure how you ended up at this party. 

Your best friend had convinced you with the usual promise of "just an hour" and "you need to get out more," and you hadn’t had a good excuse to say no. 

Now, though, you were wedged between strangers in the dimly lit house, clutching a cup of water and feeling out of place. The air was thick with the smell of weed and the thumping of a bass that seemed to pulse under your skin. 

You scanned the room, already trying to find your friend to suggest heading home.

But, that’s when you noticed him: a guy leaning against the doorway, laughing with some friends. He had an easy confidence, a wild mess of curls, and a smile that could light up the darkest room. 

Every now and then, he’d stop to take a drag from his blunt, blowing the smoke to the side, always careful not to send it your way. It was a small gesture, but somehow, it made you feel like he was paying attention to you in a way no one else had tonight.

As if sensing you were looking at him, he turned, catching your gaze and holding it for a beat longer than comfortable. Before you knew it, he was weaving through the crowd toward you, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Not having fun, huh?" he asked, leaning close so you could hear him over the music. His voice was warm, edged with amusement.

You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness tighten your shoulders. "I guess I’m just... not really a party person."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning playful. “A rebel, then. ‘Not a party person’ at a party—how daring.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide a smile. “Oh, yeah. Breaking all kinds of rules over here.”

“So, tell me,” he said, leaning back and giving you a mischievous grin, “what do you do for fun if you’re not out at parties like this?”

You laughed, “I don’t know. I’m probably not as exciting as you. I’m usually reading, or maybe watching movies, writing. Not much.”

“Reading?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re one of those girls, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you shot back, laughing.

He shrugged, a teasing smile on his lips. “Just that you’re probably smarter than anyone else here. Maybe smarter than me.”

“Only maybe?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He smirked, taking another slow drag from the blunt. "Oh, it was. Besides," he said, his gaze turning more intense, “I like a girl with brains. Keeps things interesting… Keeps me on my toes.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly under his stare. He had this way of looking at you that felt like he saw right through all the walls you’d built, straight to the person beneath them. 

It was both exhilarating and a little intimidating.

You didn’t know what it was—maybe the playful glint in his eyes, maybe his easy confidence—but you took his hand, and before you knew it, you were laughing and talking like you’d known him for years. 

His name was Dominic, and he was as charming as he was magnetic. Every time he laughed, it was this free, infectious sound that seemed to light him up, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

At some point, he leaned back, pulling a blunt out of his jacket pocket. He raised an eyebrow, giving you a look that was both mischievous and expectant. "Care to join?"

You shook your head, smiling slightly. “Oh, no. I don’t smoke.”

He stared at you, clearly shocked. “Wait, really?” He laughed, almost incredulous. “You’re telling me you’re this cool and you’ve never even—”

“Nope,” You crossed your arms, trying not to smile at his reaction. "Never even held a joint. I like breathing air.”

Dominic looked at you like you’d just told him you were from another planet. “You’re serious?”

You laughed, a little bashfully. “I guess I just… never got into it. It’s not really my thing. It kinda scares me.”

He shook his head, chuckling, and took a slow drag from the joint, blowing the smoke to the side as he watched you with that same look of fascination. 

“Wild. Here I was thinking everyone’s at least tried it once.” He paused, then tilted his head with a smirk. “You mind if I...?”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “I don’t care that you’re a stoner, Dominic.”

That earned you a laugh, and he took another drag, his eyes flickering to yours with a hint of a challenge. “You sure I can’t change your mind?”

“I think I’ll survive without it,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Though I appreciate the, uh, enthusiasm.”

“You know,” he continued, still watching you, “I think you’re the first girl I’ve met here who isn’t already, like, wasted out of her mind or trying to do shots off the kitchen counter.”

You laughed. “Yeah, not exactly my style. No offense to your friends or anything.”

“None taken. Trust me, I’d rather be here talking to you than watching another failed attempt at a keg stand.” He grinned, but there was a softness in his expression that told you he meant it.

A comfortable silence fell between you for a moment before he spoke up again. “So, not a drinker, not a smoker… how’d you even end up here?”

“Blame my friend. She insisted I needed a night out.” You rolled your eyes, but your tone was light. “Dragged me here, practically kicking and screaming.”

Dominic chuckled. “Well, then I owe her a thank you.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing against yours as he looked at you with that same captivating intensity. “Because if she hadn’t dragged you here, I wouldn’t have met the most intriguing girl at this party.”

Your stomach did a little flip, and you tried to play it cool, giving him a raised eyebrow. “Oh, really? That’s quite a line.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m serious! You’re different from everyone else here. Most people are just here for a good time, but… you seem like you’re here because you’re looking for something else.”

You tilted your head, feeling strangely vulnerable under his gaze. “And what do you think I’m looking for?”

“Maybe someone to make you realize parties aren’t all that bad?” He winked, the suggestion playful but somehow carrying a weight that made your heart race.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I think that might be a tall order.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He took another drag from his blunt, still watching you. Then, he held it out toward you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on. One hit won’t kill you.”

You scrunched up your nose, giving him a mock glare. “Are you trying to corrupt me, Dominic?”

He laughed, leaning closer, his face inches from yours. “Maybe just a little. You’re already here, right? Why not go all in?”

“You’re very convincing…” You bit your lip, feigning consideration. “But no.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but also slightly impressed. “You’re really not going to budge, huh?”

You shrugged, smiling up at him. “Guess I’m a little stubborn.”

“I like stubborn,” he said, his voice dropping a little, softer, as his eyes flickered to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. “Besides, it’s kind of refreshing. You know how many people just go along with whatever I say?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re used to getting your way?”

“Usually, yeah.” He grinned, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how charmingly cocky he was. “But I think I like it better when I don’t.”

For a moment, the air felt electric, like something unsaid was hovering between you two. The noises of the party seemed to fade into the background, and you became hyper-aware of how close he was, of the slight pull you felt toward him.

He leaned a little closer, his gaze turning soft but intent. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Why is someone like you, talking to someone like me?” 

You blinked, a little taken aback by the question. “Geez. Someone like you? You make it sound like you’re some lost cause.”

He gave a half-smile, a touch of vulnerability flashing across his face. “I don’t know… Just feel like maybe you’re a little out of my league.”

“Really?” You laugh, “Me, out of your league? Have you seen yourself?”

“Let’s just say I’m not exactly the guy who gets lucky. Especially with the girl who doesn’t do this,” he said, holding up the joint with a grin.

“So, you don’t like girls who smoke?” You asked.

“Well, I like all women,” He emphasizes, “but, a lot of the time I feel like girls only talk to me because I have weed.”

“I highly doubt that’s the case.”

“They’re always like ‘Oh, Dominic, can I have a hit of that?’” He mocks in a high pitched voice, “Dominic, you’re sooo cute… Can we like, smoke?” He mocked again.

You couldn’t contain your laughter, “Wow, what a great impression,” you say sarcastically, “Let’s just say… if I was looking for someone exactly like me, I’d be bored out of my mind.” 

He grinned, visibly flustered for the first time since you’d met him. 

Then, looking down at you, he tapped the blunt against the side of the ashtray, leaning closer than necessary. “Well, then I guess I’m just a lucky guy, tonight.”

“I guess you are.”

He held your gaze a second longer, the warmth of it spreading in a way you weren’t expecting. 

And as the night went on, Dominic kept finding ways to keep you close—whether it was brushing your arm as he reached for something, leaning in just a little too close to make a point, or flashing you that dangerous smile that seemed to cut through all your defenses.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, your head felt lighter than you could remember, and you realized that, somehow, without even trying, Dominic had made you forget about how much you didn’t want to be there. 

He poured himself a shot of tequila, keeping his eyes on you the entire time, “To meeting you,” He said, tipping his head back as you watch his face turn sour. “God, that’s disgusting.”

You nodded your head, eyes bright with a smile, “Exactly why I hate it.”

“So, you’re seriously telling me no one’s ever tempted you to even take a sip of this life?” he asked, still sounding incredulous, leaning back on his elbows as he looked at you. 

You shrugged, smiling slightly. “Maybe they did, but no one’s convinced me as much as you did tonight.” You glanced at him, feeling a shyness you hadn’t felt all night. “Honestly? You’re the first person that’s made me think maybe I should stop being so boring.”

Dominic’s smile softened, and he looked at you for a moment, something warm and almost tender in his eyes. “You aren’t boring, but I guess I’ll take that as a win.”

“Only if you promise not to get too full of yourself,” you teased.

“Can’t make any promises.” He chuckled, leaning closer until his face was just inches from yours. “But maybe you could stick around and keep me humble?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the proximity, his gaze suddenly intense and unwavering. 

“Do you like me or something?” You giggled, “Does Dominic have a little crush?”

Dominic laughed, and the sound was rich, deep, filling the space between you. "A little? Oh no, I don’t do anything halfway," he teased, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m starting to think you might be trouble for me.”

You bit back a smile, looking down to hide how fast your heart was racing. “Trouble?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you’re the troublemaker here.”

“Well, what can I say— Guilty as charged,” he murmured, and without warning, he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that seemed completely at odds with his usual bravado. His fingers lingered, tracing softly along your cheek as he studied you.

For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade, replaced only by the pounding of your heart and the feeling of his hand resting on your face. 

"I don’t know what it is about you,” he whispered, his voice lower, softer. “But the second I saw you… I just knew I had to know you.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t know if it was the way his words were so honest, or the feeling of his hand on your skin, or just the fact that he was looking at you like he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I think you’ve had too much tequila,” you whispered back, barely able to keep the smile off your face.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I know what I’m saying.” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath on your skin, his voice barely above a murmur. “You’re the most interesting person in this whole place. And I think you know it, too.”

You looked up at him, a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered, “Well, then, maybe you’ll have to work a little harder to keep me around.”

Dominic grinned, that signature smile making your stomach do flips. “I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice like a dare. He held out his hand, palm up, his eyes daring you to take it. “Come on. Let me show you something.”

You hesitated only a moment before slipping your hand into his. His fingers closed around yours, warm and reassuring, and he led you through the crowd, past groups of laughing friends and scattered red Solo cups, until you reached a quieter corner of the house where the music was only a faint hum.

He stopped and turned to you, his gaze so intense it made your cheeks flush. “You know, I don’t really do this whole… romantic thing,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck almost shyly. “Usually I just… I don’t know. But tonight… you have me acting out of character.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head at him. “Are you saying I make you nervous?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Or maybe you just make me want to try harder.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you took a step closer. “Then show me what you’ve got,” you murmured, challenging him with a small smile.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Dominic closed the distance between you, his hands resting lightly on your waist as he dipped his head down, brushing his lips softly against yours. 

It was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring the moment just as much as you were. 

But then his grip on your waist tightened, and the kiss deepened, becoming something electric, something that made you forget anyone else was even there.

When you finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’m pretty glad we met,” he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laughed, feeling lighter and happier than you had in a long time. “Guess that makes two of us, then.”

“Guess it does.” He leaned back, his fingers lacing with yours again as he held your hand. “So, what do you say? Stick around tonight… and maybe tomorrow?”

The party noise picked up again, but it was all a distant hum. Right now, all you could think about was him, and the way his hand fit perfectly around yours.

You looked up at him, your smile soft.

“I think I’d like that.”

[diejager]

Hii just read ur Saccharine and Monstrosity stuff and it was really good! I was wondering if you could do one where reader gets super sick from having not felt sunlight in forever

Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, sickness, pregnancy, tell me if I missed any.

He watched you grow weary, your once vibrant skin ashen and your gleaming eyes dull. You looked sick and pale, the lushness in you that König loved and cherished slowly drained, the liveliness and sunshine in you drowned by the darkness of his bioluminecent cave. He craved the lightness in your tone, the energy in your struggle to rebel against the decisions he made for the betterment of you and the beautiful shine that you brought to his lonely home. 

He wanted to protect you, to cherish and provide for you. All König wanted, in his cold, undying heart, was to love you the way a creature like him could, but all he did was snuff out the light in you. You were sick because of him, dying from the lack of sun in the darkest pit of his side of the ocean, the abyss of his domain where he ruled with an iron fist and commanded without hesitation. He told himself what he was doing was best for you, he had eons of knowledge and experience of the dangers of life. 

His arrogance and pride showed in his patronising words, more self-assuring than to reassure you, to remind himself that every decision of his were made for you. Yet all he saw were the consequences of his acts, the saddening truth of reality striking him in the face when he came back from a hunt to find you gasping and whimpering, your tail swaying and curling into yourself in your unconscious state. It scared him to death, seeing his pregnant mate laying on the floor in a mess of agony and sickness. 

Your kind depended on sunlight, the freedom to bathe and lay under it’s warm embrace whenever it shone brightly over the sea. You were a creature of beauty and light, legends whispered by sailors and venerated by women, precious creatures that the creator loved like he loved you, protecting and affectionate. Unlike him, who was a being of darkness and madness, feared by men in all form and idolised by madmen for the share of power he gifted to those who bowed to him at the altar. 

He should have known, the dichotomy between you were far to wide to be shrunken, that you could live in the same environment as he did without suffering from the lack of sunlight. Perhaps he could give you a taste of warmth, something other than the cool abyss and his freezing body. He could watch while you bathed in the sun, a arm wrapped around the tip of your tail, keeping you within reach of him, but he despised the sun, it burned him and dried his skin, the light shining a being of chaos like him. 

He didn’t fear any other God or the creators like the sun, moon and chaos, but he hated how they affected him, how his body involuntarily reacted to their presence. And he hated the thought of your beauty attracting other creatures, vying for your luscious hair and silky skin, the gem-like shine of your reflective scales and your fragile fins. He didn’t want to share you with any other being, but if it meant healing you, watching you get better before his eyes and support the clutch in your womb, he’s willing to suffer all that if it’d help.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @0-ramen-0 @dreamdiaries777 @under-the-dirt @ajadell @danielle143 @bubbletae7 @mushroompasta @skystreamchan @notspiders @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @lilpothoscuttings @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[multiwreckedmess]

[2:15 AM] Ex!Hongjoong

Sort of toxic, possessive ex-boyfriend Hongjoong. Mistakes are made. I tried to make pretty gender-neutral.

800 ish words. Not proofread. Kinda hate-sex but nothing is graphic.

 “This is a bad idea.”  “So?” Hongjoong mutters as his lips press against juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Tell me no and we’ll stop.” His arms confidently curl around your waist, one hand sliding down to wrap around yours. Holding your hotel’s key card hesitantly, he helps you press the card to the reader, the heavy clunk of the metal lock thundering in your stomach as it unlatches. His lips curl into a small knowing smile. He knows you won’t tell him no or to stop. You’re just as crazy as he is.

 Its your hand that tips the door handle down, Hongjoong’s arm tightening to keep you from tumbling through the entryway. “This is so fucking stupid.” You continue to babble as he undresses you like a living doll. The tip of his nose presses into your flesh before his lips reach you as he peppers your skin with kisses. If you were a romantic, you’d have thought he was giving you time to stop him. That was not him though, maybe it was at one point but not now. It was because he liked to see you squirm in anticipation. Calculated little denials as he skims over your naked form.  “You can still say no,” he warns again. “You can always tell me no.”  But you really can’t. No matter how much you know it would be best for the both of you, you can’t.

 Pressing your back into the bed, you watch him from between your knees casually toss his thick rimmed glasses towards the pillows. He’s otherwise still fully clothed, maybe a few buttons down as he ducks between your thighs. Damn, he’s missed being on his knees for you. Sharp tongued and plush lipped, his mouth wasn’t only good at convincing ears. Quickly working miracles below the belt, he knows your number better than his own. Soft gasps and whines fill the air set to the beat of your heart he can feel on his tongue as he laps at you, stuffing you full as you clench around him. Slowly his hand finds yours, fingers weaving through to replace your balled fist on the sheet. Only he does this for you.  His hair is rebelling, sticking at odd angles as he comes up for air. The five o’clock shadow is barely starting to peak through his fair skin.  “I’ve missed hearing you like this,” he lets the words hang casually in the air as your breaths buoy them. The cold clang of his belt hitting the floor and zipper coming undone punctuate it.  “Liar,” you pant.  “You’ve called me worse,” he smiles. The blunt head of his cock is warm against you. Well lubricated by precum, he still takes his time, sliding the shaft along you, your hips raising to meet him. A rhythm you can’t resist. He slides into you, no condom. Just like old times. Your eyelids seal shut and brows pinch together, breathing getting rougher. Hongjoong waits, hand coming down to where your pelvises meet to slowly stroke you. “You can still tell me no and we can stop.”

 You’d think it was love if you didn’t know better. His subconscious rutting betrays him. Playing fast and loose at the precipice of cumming he only wants to see how close he can get you before you beg him. Or at least that’s what you assume. His motions get faster and faster until you’re fucking yourself on him while he’s barely moved an inch. All while his eyes gaze at you, memorize you, memorize this.  “You haven’t fucked anyone else since, have you?” Hongjoong curls over you, caging over your body as he drives himself deeper, depriving you of your peak. “I can feel your desperation.” His lips are so close to yours but he refuses to kiss you. Instead he nips at your collarbone and watches as you arch into him, clenching hard around his length.  “You’re fucking crazy,” your nails drag on his delicate skin leaving raised welts in their wake. He’s not wrong and that’s what makes you angry. Leveraging the power of your thighs you meet his thrusts as you cling to him, bouncing yourself into the sheets.  “You love it,” he sneers. Both of you groaning and gasping with the unshackled ferocity of two people who’d seen the worst of each other. Your muscles ache as they contract again, his face buried in your neck. Lips and teeth grazing over the column of your throat, lust burns deeply in your gut. Death approaches and you want him to kill you.

 You grit your teeth and cum silently, nearly whiting out from the pressure. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He empties himself deep inside of you shortly after as your walls work every last drop from him. As if you could hide what he already knew.

 Hongjoong doesn’t linger, pulling his spent cock from you and shuffling to the bathroom to survey the damage. Smirking as he listens for your distant whimper. You missed him already.

His. Only. His.

[ladyxskywalker]

Beneath the Stars

Poe Dameron x F!Reader/OFC

poe wants you to stay with him overnight, but - do you really have to go?

I wrote this a while ago =] hope you enjoy 💫 based on happy moments & memories 💌

"I have to leave soon, it's getting late..."

"Shh...just five more minutes..."

"You're sleeping ."

"So...just...you could stay right here . And...and, I could keep you safe and protect you."

With a soft sigh of your breath, you lean into him closer. The warmth of his broad chest, pressed to the heat he makes of your own skin, and the feeling of his strong hands, grasping your body further toward his heart.

He wants you to feel it.

And you do.

"You're always... too far away."

He says - muffling all of his slowly strung words together into your neck - burying his face there when you try to turn slightly just to kiss him.

Gently.

As though he might be dreaming ...

Just to remind him of where you both truly are .

Safe.

Tired.

Over on a quiet hilltop beneath the stars.

A borrowed ship, waiting in the distance to reluctantly bring you back home...

If only you didn't have to go.

"I'll be back to visit before you know it."

" Fine ..."

He groans to himself. Frustrated.

Upset that the more you love one another, the more you both become separated by war .

To leave this man during a moment just like this, would be absolutely unimaginable .

And then - it lingers .

That ache in your chest that runs away with itself just as fast as the trail of his gritty stubble leads the way beneath your ear.

Tracing you there, catching onto you.

First - with the subtle dip of his chin.

Then - the distinct tickle of his eyelashes to wake you back up again.

Waves of dark hair, curling round your fingertips selfishly because you want to cradle him longer there while you kiss . His forehead, now resting upon yours - catching his breath where the bow of his lips now soften.

"Just a few minutes more. Please, just stay with me."

"Poe...then I'll never go."

He smirks, tiredly .

"That's the point, Sweets."

But, when you have each other like this, the moments are rare and your eyes become sleepy just as well. Closing and then opening again and again. The dew of hot, Summer air, reeling you back in once more.

"This is perfect..."

Poe whispers, his eyes opening within the light and shadows glistening off of a nearby lake acting as your backdrop. The sounds of fireflies & midnight crickets, illuminating and filling all of the trees with kind and heartwarming sounds.

"It is."

You smile. Holding his face affectionately.

Remembering .

Just in case you had ever felt lost .

"You're beautiful ..."

And it's as if his arms are doing all the begging for him then. Wanting you trapped playfully between the slotting of his limbs around yours. Your hips, joining together lazily in a loving glide of endless touch.

He can feel the slipping of a few stray tears falling hopelessly down your face. Hoping that he hasn't hurt you. Wanting nothing more than to be the reason for your joy and not for your sadness when it comes.

If only missing someone wasn't so hard .

But maybe the simple act of comfort with the man you love isn't so terrible.

Maybe surrendering to the here and now, is the only thing that the universe can tell that you both want.

A night spent together where you can wish upon the moon.

And, aren't we rebels for a reason?

Would it be so bad if you just happened to turn off your comms? 😉

... 🧡

thanks so much for reading ! 😊🌼💛

[thewritingofspencerrose]

mclaren masterlist : masterlist

Monaco to Indy

saturday, may 25th, 2024 : monaco

liked by patriciooward, landonorris, and 101,349 others

etta.norris split custody weekend 🧡💛 good luck to team mclaren here in monaco (landonorris) and to my boy and arrow mclaren in the states at the indy 500 (patriciooward)!

patriociooward mi amor, really that photo?

patriciooward miss you endlessly!

etta.norris miss you more patito 🧡

alexanderrossi etta, begging you to come and pick up your boyfriend

etta.norris sorry rossi! you have custody this weekend, remember?

landonorris ha! take that patriciooward! i get ettie this weekend!

patriciooward rude.

"Fuck!" My brothers voice calls over the radio, voice indicating all the attitude his colorful language emphasizes, pulling into the pits. Qualifying is over, and Lando is just out of reach of the podium spots at a track where qualifying is everything and overtaking is nonexistent.

His car is rolled in, hands already removing his steering wheel and placing in on the nose of the car.

Lan's helmet is off next, being handed over to one of the engineers before he's approaching where I stand with Jon. "The pace wasn't there."

"We know," I am quick to assure, more than aware that if I don't, he'll spiral away before he can even hand off his gloves. "You pushed to get everything from the car that you could."

Lando throws his arm over my shoulder, sweaty and heavy but no where near uncomfortable enough to complain about. "How's Arrow doing stateside?" He asks, eyes on the monitors in front of us, picking apart each and every lap he completed.

"Good, Pato called just before quali. From the sounds of it he's a contender to win this weekend," My smile wouldn't dim even if I wanted it to, the idea of him pulling off an Indy 500 win.

From the moment I met Pato at the Mclaren mixer just after his signing, he followed me around like a puppy, and I found it adorable.

And it took me a total of three months to realize I was falling for the man with the infectious personality who didn't seem to waiver, even with my brother and Danny Ric threatening him at every chance they get.

And here we are, a year together later, and I'm split custody between two Mclaren teams.

"I'm sure I could get Max to let you borrow the jet."

What have I missed?

"What?"

Lan's eyes meet mine, matching hues meeting, as he smiles. Not out of joy, but smiling all the same.

"The chances of me making the podium tomorrow are slim. If you catch a plane now you can make it in time for the Indy, surprise your boy."

"Lan, it's your weekend-"

"This isn't a custody battle," He interrupts before I can even finish. "This is the biggest race of Patricio's year and he might win it. Go be his lucky charm or whatever," He's still smiling, and for a moment I can't help but admire my brother for the kind human he is.

But I can't help the smile on my face as I think over the idea.

"I'd have to text Elba."

"Text her, I'll ask Max about the plane." This is why he's my favorite human.

My arms wrap around him, pulling his sweaty body into a tight hug. "Thank you, Lan."

"Anytime, Ettie Mae, any time," He returns, curls brushing against my head as he pulls me close.

sunday, may 26th, 2024 : indianapolis

liked by mclaren, maxverstappen1, and 136,028 others

etta.norris shhhh no one tell pato! i made it for the final ten laps, and could not be prouder of my boy! let's go number five! (shoutout to landonorris and maxverstappen1 for getting me here on time)

maxverstappen1 anytime kid! enjoy the race and good luck to patriciooward

zakbrown you surprised me too! biggest papaya supporter there is!

etta.norris you know it!

landonorris glad you made it! zakbrown look after her for me!

zakbrown i'm sure pato has it covered, but i'll keep an eye!

etta.norris are we forgetting that i'm 21?

landonorris no you're not, you're fifteen and a little rebel

He had been ahead. He was in first for so long.

And then Josef popped up, not out of nowhere but still in surprise, there's nothing that can be done to soothe my heart. My nails are getting sorter and shorter by the second, heart beating out of my chest until the crowd cheers out, all of the air leaving my body.

Pato was so close, yet not close enough.

Zak's hand lands on my shoulder in an attempt at comfort, but all I can focus on is my boy making his last lap, Josef celebrating just in front of him as they lap around to the pits.

Here he is, pulling in, and stopping, making no move to get out of the car. Pato simply leans forward, body wracking with what I can only assume to be sobs as Zak and I approach.

Zak goes in first, patting him on the back and whispering something, whatever it is earning a soft nod before Zak's eyes are meeting my own, his head ushering me over.

"Patito?"

In our time of knowing one another, I don't think I have ever seen his head move as fast as he does, tearful eyes being the only thing clear through his helmet that is still on his head, body scrambling to leave the confines of his car and tear off his helmet, tossing it to Zak.

And I'm right here to catch him when he manages his escape, throwing himself into my arms, hugging me with his entire being.

"You're here," he whispers, fingertips digging into my sides as I run my own through his sweaty hair. "You're actually here."

"I'm always going to be here," Is what my heart inspires me to respond, kissing the side of his head. He's pulling back though, arms still around my waist as his watery eyes look me over.

"You were supposed to be in Monaco, Lando got you this weekend," He doesn't sound upset at my spontaneous arrival, but rather entirely confused.

My thumbs brush across his cheeks, wiping away the tears that have been shed. "He realized he wouldn't be making the podium," Is the beginning of my explanation. "After quali, we knew. So I texted your sister to see if she could get me a ticket, and Lando texted Max to get me on his jet. It was all Lan's idea, honestly."

He pulls me back into his arms, a sigh leaving his body as he deflates.

"Remind me to thank your brother. You're exactly what I needed."

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝒈𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚

. ˚◞ ꒰ verse 209 hǎitāo ꒱ demon x reader, resistance rebel x reader, mercenary x reader, cw: reader is dead ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. in which hǎitāo laments about the second lover he could not save

“Can you come home?” a soft voice whispered, calling a lover home quietly. solemnly.

letting go of the microphone bubble and sending the voice message through. haitao waits for an answer.

the man waits for an answer that he knows there will be no answer from the other end.

how long had it been again?

two years?

four?

no part of the already tethered and traumatised mind could remember exactly when its other part went. like an angel you flew into the night.

the most beautiful soul a reaper could have come across and held in cold hands slipped as quick as it came.

ears still catch onto laughter from the past, from you. happily singing along to music while grabbing him and dancing him around to cheer him up.

though he had not always been the most expressive man. you, you had made winter days felt like those of summer. where flowers bloomed, the sky vibrant and the rain comfortable.

tears no longer felt frozen and melancholic. but brimmed instead with joy, dripping down onto soft skin like droplets of the morning dew into clear river water.

it was all murky now, paradise had been lost long ago.

ironic, so bitterly sweet and ironic. he was the one to reap your soul too and he could not even remember when you died.

he should, he knows. he had been so busy as of late. doing anything and everything to keep you and the past out of his mind. not to run from you, not to lose his memories of you.

never you.

he wanted to forget you were dead.

he sometimes pretended you lived. that when he came home, you’d be there. waiting for him with opened arms. silly shaped cookies and tea, plants all watered and alive, refreshed. but he was only ever met by the dead and dried visage of what once was every time he came home.

“can you can— can you come home? i miss you, i am scared of being alone.” his voice wavers. another voicenote sent through to your old number. the profile picture of you is still there.

you are still here. you are in his gallery folder, you are on pictures in the apartment, hung on the wall with pride. for him to always see that smile of yours, the beauty and light you exuded from within and without.

he loved your smile.

gods. he loved your smile.

the first time you smiled at him is something he will never forget. it had made his entire body melt, and at first he hated it because he was scared of it.

but how could he dismiss it when you had been so caring, you had been there to help patch him up. a member of the resistance. you had punched one of the opponments right in the face when you saw him getting attacked.

he does not remember what he told you after that made you smile and laugh. probably some sarcastic bullshit that had pulled itself out of his bloodstained lips at the time.

but when that sweet laughter had pierced his ears for the first time. he felt something he had not in years. a comfort, a place of solace and rest. he could listen to your laughs like they were symphonies composed so intricately that the world would sigh in relief.

your smile was something he always looked forward to seeing. the way the corners of your lips would curl just before the smile itself came was one of the few pleasures of joy he had ever had in his life.

but the joy was gone. a window left open and never closed, letting in the snow and the frost of the biting winter, and the lone reaper to freeze until his entire body and heart are riddled so cold and frozen that it will no longer feel love again.

you are dead, and it is a fact he can’t accept. no matter how hard or how much he tries, he does not want you to be.

he curses death, despite knowing not to.

death. it all has it’s place in this world, and she only does her work.

yet, to lose you?

to lose you so early?

it felt like he a joke. hands losing grasp of something important and stripped of his permission to love. all of his pent up hurt only bottled more. and there was no rim for the dark water to spill over.

there’s always quiet space for wonder in the bleak apartment, no longer is light lit. nor is food brought to the fridge. a blanket of dust and web covering it.

haitao is barely home anymore. it does not matter being home if you are not there.

he can sleep in his car.

or at the couches at work.

showers can be taken there too, it doesn’t matter.

luu’leriel is just as quiet. only seeking to kill and feed when he comes out.

“you left so early, i never got to give you the ring i bought for you.” he whispers into the microphone.

pinging your phone once again, with a voicemessage to never be received nor heard.

he sometimes wonders if you come by when he doesn’t know it? your soul? do you watch him? should he start trying to lift spells— no, no. you deserve your privacy. he always gave you privacy. that does not get to change now just because you are gone.

“i just uh. . .” he trails off and sits down on one of the kitchen chairs. the one you’d always sit on. one of your old pillows in his hand, held close to a soft breathing chest that sometimes would stutter to hide sobs.

“just- just i’m sorry. it’s all my fault” he chokes, tears streaming down his face. telephone slid onto the table, while an arm comes up to wipe away at swollen dioxazine eyes.

“is my fault.” he sobs and leans back into the chair, clutching tightly onto the pillow.

if he had been able to save you that night during one of the missions to retreat enigma from valence. if he had told you to stay home instead. or stay at the base to help patch up any hurt people.

you could have been alive

you would be with him

he shouldn’t have ever let you go with him.

there laid a certain anger amongst sorrow and grief towards you. so carelessly rushing after him and the other leaders, without his knowledge.

you’d wanted to help on the field. and when he found out he had an argument with you.

that hurt the most. the argument.

“i didn’t even get to say sorry.” the hiccup that made itself present in his throat transitioned into a sharp cry.

“gods i’m sorry, you just wanted to help. i don’t wanna be angry with you, you don’t deserve that.” he splutters. nose sniffling profusely. and drying itself in the pillow, along with the tears that spilled like they never had.

“can you please come home so i can say sorry and we can be okay again.”

the screams are deafened out by the heavy silence of the kitchen. nothing but static noise of the radio in the living room making itself present.

“can you please come home and just tell me this is a bad dream. because i don’t know what’s real anymore? i don’t wanna lose anyone again.”