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cameronsprincess · 1 year ago

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— summary: rafe cameron falls for the preachers daughter.

— warnings: smut! 18+ stalking, manipulation, rafe is obsessed with reader, fingering, hand riding for like a second, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, praise, oral (male receiving), soft!dom!rafe, innocent!naïve!reader, i think that’s it.

— note: this request was amazing. i love love rafe & innocent!reader, it makes me feel some type of way 🥹 this is kind of a long one, enjoy<3 likes, comments and reblogs are SO appreciated!!

❥ preachers daughter— r.c

Rafe wasn’t sure when his obsession with her started, all he knew was that he wanted her, wanted to ruin her.

He remembers the first time he had ever saw her, it was an early Sunday morning, his father had decided to drag him to Sunday morning service, something Rafe had never imagined himself going to…

… But man, was he glad he did.

He remembered every small detail about her from that morning. She was wearing a long green, floral dress that fell well past her knees, she had a white sweater pulled over her upper half, and a pair of beige strappy heels. Her hair had been done in loose curls, a soft white bow tying it up into a low ponytail, making Rafe blush at the innocence that emitted from her.

The smile that graced her beautiful lips had made Rafe grow painfully hard, having to excuse himself to the restroom to readjust himself.

Rafe had pushed her into the back of his mind though, knowing that a woman like her would never be with a man like him.

She was his polar opposite; pure, kind, without any obvious flaws. Whereas Rafe was impure, violent, and covered in issues from head to toe.. You could thank his father for that.

Rafe knew he didn’t stand a chance, so why, and when, did his obsession with her begin? Why had he caught himself following her around town, watching her every move? Why had he found a way to place a tracking device on her car, his possessive need to know where she was at all times pushing him to do such a crazy thing.

Why had he found himself beating the shit out of any man he’d seen talk to her? Why did he care so much? She didn’t even know he existed, yet, he found himself quite literally stalking her, obsessing over her, vowing to himself that he would protect her at any and all cost.

Rafe had continued following her for months before he had finally decided to make his move on her. He’d quickly picked up on her schedule, learned all of her favorite places to shop, eat, where she loved to do her Bible studies.

After six months of constantly following her and learning all he needed to know about her, he had decided it was finally time for him to make his move, make her his.

He was parked outside of the small coffee shop she frequented regularly, watching as she sat at a table, flipping through the pages of her notebook, taking small sips of her coffee order.

He loved that she was completely oblivious of the man who had been watching her for months, in his mind it proved that she did need him in her life, she needed him to take care of her, protect her, teach her to be more aware of her surroundings.

Rafe’s head snaps up when he sees her stand from her spot, gathering her books and pens, pushing her chair in and making her way to the front door.

He quickly hops from his truck, rushing across the street, his plan to make a move being set in motion.

She pushes the door to the coffee shop open, her head hung low as she stepped through the threshold, making it easy for Rafe to step in her way, lightly bumping her and causing her head to snap up.

“Oh, i’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention”

Her face is flushed red, her voice soft, angelic.

The corners of Rafe’s lips quirk up slightly, a small smile on his face as he looks down at her small figure.

“Not a problem, I should have said something. I’m Rafe, and you are?”

He extends his hand out for her to take, to which she quickly complies, placing her small hand in his.

He places a soft kiss to the back of her hand, her breath catching in her throat at the action. She wasn’t sure what to think of the man in front of her, she’d never been greeted like that by anyone.

“I-I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you, Rafe”

“Y/L/N? As in Pastor Y/L/N?” Rafe asks, his eyebrow quirked up as he played his part well.

She smiles, her eyes sparkling at the mention of her father. He attends her church? Why had she never seen him before now?

“Yeah, that’s my dad! You go to our church?”

Rafe chuckles, an amused smirk laid on his lips, “Yeah, sometimes. My dad started making me go a few months ago, i’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before now”

He feels himself growing painfully hard when he hears the angelic laugh that falls from her pretty mouth, her eyes lit up as she carefully pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Church not really your thing?” She asks, her lower lip brought between her teeth as she smiled up at him.

“Not really, but hey, your father sure knows how to get you into it huh?”

She shifts herself on her feet, readjusting her books in her hands, “Yeah he’s great, he loves what he does”

Rafe notices the large books in her arms, how she continues to shift and adjust them. “Want me to grab those for you?”

She glances down at the books in her arms, and back up at Rafe, his bright blue eyes making butterflies erupt in her stomach, “Uh, sure. Thanks” She smiles, handing him the books and looking toward the ground.

“You wanna ride home?”

She pauses for a moment, her mind drawing a blank as her palms became clammy. Why she was so nervous? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because he was making her feel things she knew was wrong, maybe it was because she knew better than to get involved with a man without her father’s permission, but something about him made her want to take the risk, break her own rules.

“Sure, that’d be nice. Thank you”

And just like that, Rafe’s plan was falling into place. He had gotten her attention, gotten her to trust him so easily. He loved how naïve she was, how innocent she was, and as much as he’d love to take it slow with her, he felt he’d taken it slow enough, waiting, watching, protecting her for months, even if she didn’t know it.

He had to have a taste of her, had to break her of her innocence, and he needed to do it now. He needed her to be his, and only his.

Everything had began moving quickly, Rafe had driven her to his house instead of hers, his lips finding hers in an instant, pulling her from the passenger seat and into his lap.

She was unconsciously grinding herself over his bulge, her hands running over his buzzed hair, his hands tightly gripping at her hips as his tongue explored her mouth.

Her breathing was ragged, hands trembling as she continued pressing herself into him. She wasn’t sure what she was doing or why, it was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so right.

“Rafe” she tries to speak, her words being swallowed by him. He presses his hand flat against her lower back, pushing her further into him as he continues his assault on her mouth.

She plants her palms on his chest, pushing herself back, her back pressed firmly against his steering wheel.

She runs a hand through her hair, her eyes slightly welled up with tears as she tries to calm her breathing.

“This- This is wrong. We don’t even know each other, we- I’m not supposed to have sex until I’m married, I can’t- We can’t-“

Rafe shushes her softly, his thumb running across her bottom lip as his blue eyes burn into her, “Shh, Shh. It’s okay, angel. There’s nothing wrong with this, trust me?”

She sighs, resting her head on his chest, the tears that had fallen from her eyes soaking the fabric of his shirt.

“I-I trust you, but- But this isn’t right, Rafe”

Rafe runs his hand down her side, placing it on her clothed thigh and squeezing lightly, pulling a small squeal from her lips.

“What isn’t right about it? I can teach you things, make you feel things, I promise you’ll love it”

Rafe had his mind set, he was prepared to break her, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. He knew a girl like her, so innocent, so naïve, was bound to break under the pressure.

He could tell she was curious, curious as to what it felt like to be touched by a man, to give her full self to someone, and he wanted to be that person, he needed to be that person.

He was in too deep with her, too obsessed with her. The way she looked, how angelic her voice was, the way she looked wearing clothes that hid even the most innocent parts of her body from the world. He needed her to be his, she would be his.

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s go upstairs, and I promise i’ll take good care of you. Do you trust me?”

She brings her bottom lip between her teeth, an action that was so innocent to her, but it drove Rafe crazy. He could feel the blood rush to his cock, making him grow uncomfortably hard beneath the fabric of his jeans.

She gasped when she felt his hard-on pressed into her thigh, an amused smirk playing at Rafe’s lips. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me, you’re so beautiful, let me show you just how beautiful you are. You deserve to be touched, to be made feel good. Don’t you want that?”

A simple “okay” was all she could manage to breathe out, her breath hitching in her throat when she felt him place his hands on her ass, gripping at it tightly.

“Okay what sweetheart? I need you to tell me what you want”

“I-I want you to touch me” She says softly, her voice so low it was almost a whisper, but Rafe had heard her clearly.

He quickly shoves his car door open, his free hand gripping tightly below her ass, keeping her tightly wrapped around his torso.

He gently sets her down onto her feet, shutting the truck door and grabbing her hand, pulling her to the front door of his house.

Rafe wastes no time, pulling her inside and locking the front door and dragging her to the spiral staircase that led upstairs.

Once they reached the top he pulls her into his room, shutting and locking the door. His lips instantly find hers again, the feeling of her lips against his pulling a groan from him. Her lips felt like home to him, warm, and safe- Something Rafe had never felt in his entire life.

He wraps his arms around her waist, his lips consuming hers as he pushes her back flush into his bedroom wall. He runs a hand up her side, his fingers pushing the hem of her shirt up, exposing just the slightest bit of flesh to him. He lightly grazes his fingers up the length of her side, his fingertips finding her bra.

He unclasps it in record time, running a hand up her arm and sliding one strap down her shoulder, moving to the other side and copying his actions until the flimsy fabric fell down her chest and onto his bedroom floor.

He pulls his lips from hers, his deep blue gaze on her face. He burns the image of her current state into his mind, her lips swollen and slightly parted, her chest heaving up and down as she tries to steady her breathing. He loved that he was the one who’d made her like this, loved that he was the one who had her craving more of his touch.

“You wanna take your shirt off princess?” He asks her softly, his thumb swiping across her bottom lip, his other arm still tightly wrapped around her waist.

“Y-Yes”

Rafe grins, pulling his arm from her waist and watching as she brings her hands down to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her cheeks instantly turn a bright shade of pink, her arms flying across her chest to cover herself from him.

He lifts his hands, placing them gently on her arms and pulling them down. “No don’t hide princess, you want me to see you. And you’re so beautiful”

She nods her head slowly, letting her arms fall to her sides. She felt her entire body heat up under Rafe’s stare, his eyes erratically scanning across her chest.

He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, bringing his hands up to softly cup her bare breasts in his palms.

“Such a pretty girl, aren’t you?”

He begins softly massaging her breasts in his hands, his fingers finding her nipples, pinching and pulling at them. He loved the expression that took over her face when he began playing with her sensitive buds, her lips parted, eyes squeezed shut as she panted.

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?”

“Y-Yes. Feels- Feels so good, Rafe”

Rafe hums in appreciation, dipping his head down to lick a stripe across both her breasts. She gasps loudly, her head falling back against the wall when he wraps his lips around one of the buds, sucking on it lightly before switching to the other side.

Her hands fly to the back of his head, nails lightly scratching through his buzzed hair. She lets soft moans fall from her lips, and Rafe swore he’d never heard anything so beautiful, so angelic. She was going to be the death of him.

He lets his hands fall, finding her waist and lightly tapping at her thigh, “Jump” he instructs, and she’s quick to obey, straddling him instantly.

Rafe carries her to his bed, letting her fall onto the soft mattress with a soft thud.

He climbs himself on top of her, his arms caging her into the bed. He steadies himself with one hand flat on the mattress, his free hand running up her side, a trail of goosebumps left behind on her skin from his fingertips. He cups her cheek softly, lightly rubbing his thumb across it.

“You want me to take your jeans off? Make you feel good?” Rafe asks, but he gives her no time to answer, his hand being removed from her cheek and finding the button on her jeans.

He swiftly undoes the button, pulling her zipper down slowly before he begins sliding the denim fabric down her legs.

Rafe sucks in a sharp breath when he sees her lacy white panties, an innocent girl like her wearing something like this?

“Fuck”

She blushes at his vulgar words, her breathing shaky as his fingers play with the waistband of her panties.

She lets out a shaky breath when his fingers push down into the front of her underwear, his fingers brushing against her clit, making her hips buck forward from the sensation.

“Rafe” She breathes out, her fingers tightly gripping at his bedding.

“You okay sweetheart?”

“We- We shouldn’t, oh!”

She tries to protest, tries to keep her faith and do as she knows she’s supposed to, but Rafe wasn’t having it. He runs his middle finger through her slick folds, pulling his hand from inside her panties and shoving the digit in his mouth.

He hums in appreciation, the taste of her on his tongue making the blood rush to his already painfully hard and throbbing cock.

“You’re so wet, so sweet. You know this is what you want, isn’t it baby?”

She feels the tears welling up in her eyes, letting a few stray tears fall. Did she want this? She didn’t understand what she was feeling, why she was aroused. She’d never felt like this before. Rafe had her mind racing, she did want this, she knew it was wrong, knew her father would be so disappointed in her, but why deny herself of this feeling when it felt right? Felt good.

She nods her head in response, pulling a small smile from Rafe’s lips. He tugs at her panties, pulling them down her legs and shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans.

He cups her bare cunt, his palm pressing firmly against her clit, making her whimper and squirm beneath his touch.

“You can move baby, make yourself feel good”

She whimpers, moving her hips and grinding herself against his hand. Rafe takes his free hand, his ringed fingers pressing into her thigh as he held her open for him. He removes his hand from her pussy, running a finger through her slick again, gathering her arousal on the digit before he slowly pushes it into her.

“Oh, Oh God!” She cries out, her back arching off the bed, pushing his finger further into her.

“God isn’t here sweetheart, it’s just you and me”

He begins slowly pushing his finger in and out of her soaked core, her velvety walls clenching around his finger. He curls his finger, hitting a spot inside her that had her toes curling.

“I-I, Oh Rafe”

Rafe smirks, adding another finger inside her. He quickens his pace, pushing them in and out harshly. She’s a whimpering mess, her orgasm so close he could feel it from how she was clenching around him.

“You can cum, it’s okay sweetheart, let it out”

She feels a burn between her legs, her belly growing tight as a feeling she’d never felt washes over her. She’s trembling beneath him, legs shaking, fists tightly wrapped around the fabric of his blanket as Rafe helped fuck her through her high.

When he pulls his fingers from her she lets out a small whimper, her body laying limp on his mattress, chest heaving up and down as she comes down from her orgasm.

“See that wasn’t so bad was it?” Rafe asks.

She sucks in a shaky breath, shaking her head. “N-No. Not bad. I’ve never… You know..”

Rafe quirks an eyebrow up at her, that damned amused smirk on his lips. “You’ve never had an orgasm before? I knew that sweetheart”

She hides her face in her hands, body heating up from embarrassment.

Rafe’s hands fly to hers, slowly pulling them down, his free hand rubbing softly across her cheek.

“Don’t hide, it’s okay. I want to teach you, I want you to feel comfortable with me, don’t you feel comfortable with me baby?”

She lets out a deep sigh, “Yes, I-I’m comfortable”

He grins, satisfied that he’d gotten her comfortable with him. He sits himself up on his knees, undoing his belt and tossing it to the floor.

“Do you wanna make me feel good sweet girl?”

She bites at her bottom lip, watching as he undoes the button on his pants followed by his zipper, the fabric sliding down his legs and leaving him in nothing but his underwear and his polo.

“Yes, I wanna make you feel good, teach me?”

Rafe brings his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb sliding across her bottom lip, sliding the digit past her parted lips.

She wraps her lips around his thumb, giving it a light suck, a raspy groan falling from Rafe at the feeling.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful, gonna be such a good girl f’me, make me feel good, yeah?”

He pulls his thumb from her lips, sliding his briefs down his legs, his erection springing free and slapping just below his belly button. He notices the wide eyed expression on her face, her lips parted in a small ‘o�� as she stared at him.

“It’s okay baby, don’t be scared”

Rafe firmly grasps at his cock, pumping at it slowly, his free hand coming to the back of her head as he helped guide her down. “Put your lips on it baby, I got you”

She does as he says, her lips wrapping around the head first lightly sucking at his swollen tip. Rafe’s grip tightens in her hair, his hips bucking forward.

“Good girl, swirl your tongue around it a little, pretend it’s a popsicle or a lollipop”

She obeys, swirling her tongue around him, the precum that leaked from his tip making its way onto her tongue. She hums around him, the salty taste making her grow wet again.

Rafe slowly pushes himself further into her mouth, his breathing erratic as she takes him fully.

Her teeth graze at his shaft, making him jump back from the pain. “No teeth baby, hollow your cheeks and just move your head up and down slowly”

Her cheeks hollow, her head moving slowly up and down his length, small gags and whimpers falling from her with each push and pull, his head hitting the back of her throat with each push.

Rafe inhales deeply through his nose, his head thrown back in pleasure as she continues to suck and lick every last inch of him.

“Such a good fucking girl”

She feels herself grow wet from his praise, the ache between her thighs back, the craving for more of his touch growing with each passing second.

He tightly grips her hair when he feels himself twitching inside her mouth, pulling her off of him, her cheeks and chin stained with drool.

“Wanna cum inside you, do you want that? Want me to fill your pretty pussy up with my cum?”

She nods her head slowly, laying herself back and spreading her legs for him.

Rafe smiles widely, the innocence that once radiated from her now gone, and all because of him.

He pulls his polo over his head, discarding it on the floor and leaning himself down. He uses one hand to steady himself up, his other hand pumping at his cock and lining himself with her slick entrance.

“Gonna go slow okay? If it hurts, let me know and i’ll let you take a minute to breathe”

She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out except a small whine, the feel of his fat head pushing into her small hole sending a burn through her legs.

Rafe softly shushes her, “Shhh, it’s okay i’m gonna take care of you, alright?”

She blinks away her tears, nodding her head and sucking in a sharp breath. Rafe slowly pushes himself in more, using one hand to lightly stroke her cheek, trying to help her calm her breathing.

He pushes himself inside her fully, stilling his movements and trying to let her adjust to his size. She lets out a soft breath, her hands flying to his shoulders, fingernails digging into the flesh.

“Can I move princess?”

“Yes, please”

Rafe begins to slowly thrust himself inside her, small moans and whimpers falling from her as she begins to rock her hips with his.

“You’re doing so good, my good girl”

She’s a whining mess, the pain replaced with pleasure making her toes curl, her head thrown back into the pillows as she focuses on the feel of each push and pull Rafe makes.

“Not gonna last long with you squeezin’ me like that sweetheart, you feel yourself squeezin’ me? Your pussy begging to be filled with my cum”

She lets out a whine, her bottom lip harshly brought between her teeth as she felt her second orgasm approaching.

“I-I think i’m close” she cries out, her hips bucking up and meeting each of his thrusts.

“Let go for me angel, i’m right behind you”

She clamps down around him, squeezing him tightly and sucking him further into her. His head repeatedly hits at her sweet spot, making her a whimpering, moaning mess.

“Gonna fill you up, give you my babies, don’t you want that baby?”

“Yes! Want you babies, wanna be a mama, please please”

She screams out a moan, her release bursting from her. She was trembling, tears staining her cheeks as Rafe fucked her through her high.

Rafe feels his thrusts grow sloppy, his hips stuttering as he twitches inside her. He pushes himself to the hilt, stilling inside her as the hot ropes of his release spill inside of her.

He lets his head dip down, his face falling into the crook of her neck, his lips attacking the skin with hot kisses.

He pulls himself from inside her, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arms around her. He pulls her further into his body, snuggling further into her and breathing in her scent.

“I’m so happy you’re mine now, all mine”

She smiles softly, her eyes drooping as she begins to breathe softly, sleep taking over her.

She wasn’t sure what she would tell her father, or how this would change her life, but she didn’t care. All that mattered to her now was the man who had just completely changed her life, and how she was his, and he was hers.

RAFE TAGLIST: @whore-4-drewstarkey @ivy-34 @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @starkeypankowsbae @lizcameron @m-1234 @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @alexisbaumann2004 @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @mel119g @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @softlilacarrest @fayerite @exhaustedbutelated @lyndys @urmyslxt @presleyanswrites @sierraluvz @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @oceandriveab

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #dark!rafe cameron #soft!dom!rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe fic

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auroralwriting · 4 months ago

Text

the gun

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, they both reached for the gun, the gun, the gun…

"you just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius."

word count: 2.3k

warnings: cm violence, blood, enemies to lovers, kinda rushed im sorryyyy, fem reader slightly mentioned

a continuation of this story can be found here

Spencer and you always competed. He had an eidetic memory, you had a photographic.

The difference between you two was anything you ever saw, read, you held in long-term memory. Spencer’s, though, resided in short term. However, Spencer was also an autodidact, meaning he could teach himself anything. You also had a vast emotional intelligence. You had such strong empathy, you could detect any micro-detail anyone displayed, making you the perfect lie-detector one that even Hotch couldn’t evade.

Spencer was Jason Gideon’s special boy. Gideon helped Spencer make his way in the BAU. You were David Rossi’s special girl, him noticing your skills from a young age when he met you during a case. He guided you to make all the best choices, leading you to the BAU as well. It took a few years, timing and all, but you got there.

When Dave transferred to Quantico’s BAU, he requested your transfer as well. He thought you would mesh well with the team. More specifically, he assumed you and Spencer would become a genius duo; totally unstoppable.

Oh, how wrong he was. It was from the moment you’d corrected Spencer on some statistic he spewed, you both became enemies forced to co-exist on the same team. There was never a civil moment, always some fight. It was sad, too. You remembered the first time you saw him, you were struck by how cute he was. Too bad he decided to hate you before you got a chance.

Vividly, you remembered the most intense fight you both had.

“So someone with a medical degree,” Hotch muttered. “That’s got to be impossible.”

“It’s more likely that have a nursing degree.” Spencer replied. “We’d be looking at around one hundred eighty thousand people a year. If our unsub is a new graduate, that’s the numbers we’d be looking through.”

You shook your head, “It’s actually one hundred fifty seven thousand. Also, narrow it down to nursing degrees in New York, and you get around eight thousand. Eleven percent were men, so around six hundred. Lower it even more to those who don’t have any family members, most likely from group homes, you can get maybe seventy?”

oh, yes

Garcia clacked away at her keyboard, “My baby’s got it! Seventy two people. If we’re looking at NYU specifically, thirteen.”

Pride filled your system. It was fulfilling when you were able to get things right. Spencer, on the other hand, wasn’t too happy about that.

“You know, nobody asked your opinion.” He scoffed.

“It isn’t opinion, Reid. It’s purely fact, ones you should probably get right.” Your reply had Spencer clenching his fists.

How dare you insult his intelligence? His IQ was much larger than yours, you weren’t one to speak on that. “Maybe you should focus on the case instead of trying to be a people pleaser,” Spencer sneered your way.

His reply made you roll your eyes, “At least I can tell what people want. You’re oblivious, Reid.”

oh, yes

Slowly, the two of you began to go back and forth, your voices raising. Before the situation blew up, Hotch stepped in, trying to mediate. However, Spencer mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t just let go. It hurt, stung like a bee, and you weren’t going to let him walk away feeling victorious.

“At least my mentor didn’t up and leave me.” you snapped. “He’s still with me, he didn’t just vanish with a stupid little note as a dingy goodbye.”

Spencer had paused, face dropping. You read him like a book, you’d gone too far. He showed minuscule signs of distress, grief, sadness. The room was silent, no one quite knew what to say.

oh, yes

“Reid, I-”

“Save it.”

Spencer had walked away, leaving you to feel shameful of your words. Rossi just squeezed your shoulder. The man knew you didn’t mean it.

they both

Since then, it was like the two of you were on each other’s cases, constantly bickering and arguing. Now, you were almost subconsciously battling each other for the genius role of the team. Was there any need to? No, not at all, but your fights had become not a battle, but a war.

You stood outside the bank with your team. “They have hostages,” You identified, attempting to peer inside. “There’s no way we can go in. It’s a suicide-murder mission.”

oh, yes

“There’s gotta be a way,” JJ shook her head. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Derek sighed.

After a few hours, Will made the decision to go inside. You had to help hold back JJ as he walked in. Hearing the bullets made you sick. You physically had to double over, holding back the tears. It suddenly hit you how dire the situation was. You went back to the van with the team. No one really knew what to say.

"Did you see where he was shot?" JJ asked. "Is he alive or dead, Garcia?"

Penelope's breath was shaky, "I don't know."

"He was wearing a vest." Emily reasoned. "He might be okay."

JJ gave a smile, but it was one of disbelief. "Might be," She muttered, shaking her head in reply.

It was then that the team decided to go in. You shoved your gun in your holster, "I'll take first point," You offered. "Check and see if Will's okay. I'll try and manipulate them into letting me go to him." Hotch nodded. With your knowledge of psychology and your emotional intelligence, Hotch knew you could do it.

they both

"L/n, it's too dangerous." You heard Spencer say over the phone. "Just wait for me to tell you where to go in."

You rolled your eyes, "Reid, I'm not stupid. I've handled multiple hostage situations."

Spencer didn't reply. You liked that. This was the first time you'd be able to prove yourself without Spencer's help. This was honestly just a way for you to prove you were the better of the two. Your actions were motivated by the desire to be the best; a classic narcissistic move. You weren't a narcissist, though. You just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius.

Oddly enough, hostages flooded out of the bank as you made your way back outside. Maybe Will was alive and managed to get them all out. Once none more came out, you and two other cops began to make your way inside stealthily.

Right as you got in the middle of the bank, you heard Rossi's panicked voice over your comms, "Abort, abort!"

oh, yes

There was no time to reply. It all happened so suddenly. You heard the explosion before you felt it. It was hard to breathe. You couldn't see, hear. It slowly registered that there was a bomb, and it went off.

they both reached for

You had no clue where you had been thrown to. Everything felt cold, really cold. A loud ringing filled your ears as you slowly sat up. You touched your head, pulling back to feel stickiness on your fingers. Your vision was blurry, but you knew it was blood. You had to get out of the building. You needed help, medics, your team. Was anyone else in your team inside yet?

they both reached for the gun

A grunt left your lips as you stood up. You felt your legs give out under you, and you went down again. The desire to live was stronger than your physical weakness, and you stood up again. It was so dusty and hazy that you couldn't see. You leaned on the nearest wall for support, slowly using it to try and find your way out of the building. All that you heard in your head was get out, survive, get out, survive.

After what felt like ages, you felt a breeze against your skin. You followed it, hoping it would lead out, and it did. The light was harsh on your eyes as you tried to scan the area. It was then you saw Spencer and Hotch-- what was Spencer doing here? He was still at the BAU last you'd checked. Maybe the blast knocked you out cold.

Trudging your way over, you weakly called out. "Aaron, Spencer,"

the gun

Spencer knew he heard his name. He looked up from the blueprints of the building to see you, blood covering different parts of your body, your skin covered in debris and dust. You had limp, and your eyes were blown out. "Oh my god," he muttered, running over to you.

the gun

The genius took your in his arms as you fell into him, "How'd you get here?" you asked. "What's for dinner?"

Spencer took notice of your confusion as he allowed you to lean on him. He took your face in his hands, "Y/n, look at me. Focus on me,"

the gun

You couldn't directly look at him. Your eyes darted all over the place. "Where's Rossi? Did he go in?"

"No, Rossi's okay." Spencer leaned over his shoulder, "We need a medic!" He yelled, quickly turning his attention back to you. "It's okay, you're okay."

oh, yes

"I can't feel anything," you breathed out, "That can't be normal. Is that normal? Spencer, am I dying?"

oh, yes

Spencer shook his head, "You're okay, it's okay."

"I can't die," You softly whimpered. "I'm sorry, Spencer. 'M so mean to you, I don't mean to be."

Deep down, Spencer knew you meant what you were saying. The fear of dying without getting your true feelings out always lead to admissions of the truth. "I know, I know," Spencer smoothed your hair. "I don't hate you, I don't. You're going to be okay." Spencer slowly became anxious as he noticed the amount of blood seeping from your head. "Look at me, please, keep talking to me."

"'M sorry," You muttered, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Spencer's face began to fade as you collapsed in his arms.

Spencer felt his breathing grow heavy as he held you tightly. "Medic! She's-- oh, god, Help!"

they both reached for the gun.

A steady beeping was the first thing you heard as you woke up. The light was a blinding white, and you let out a groan at it. Your body hurt like hell, and your head was pounding.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, here, let me just--"

The white lights went out and all that was left was the stream of daylight coming through the windows, along with a lamp that was a warmer light. It was much more comfortable that way. You quickly guessed you were in a hospital. The beeping, white lights, smell of rubbing alcohol that you just identified.

"How do you feel?"

Spencer. You turned your head to look at him. His face held deep concern. He was holding your hand. "I--" You paused, considering his question. "I feel like shit."

He let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah. You kind of got exploded." That's right, the bomb.

"Oh, Will, the team, are they okay?" You softly asked.

Spencer nodded, "Everyone's okay, we got the unsubs. It's all okay now."

You remembered Spencer's words. You should have waited to go in. If you had waited, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation right now. "I should've listened to you." You stated weakly. "You were right. I was being stupid."

"Hey, no," Spencer quickly interrupted. "You were doing your job."

"I wasn't," you shook your head. "I wanted to prove myself. I-I wanted.. to show that I didn't just do victimology and simple hostage relief situations. I wanted to prove myself like you have." You stopped, sucking in a pained breath. You felt your eyes become glassy. "I wanted to prove to everyone I was just as good as you."

Spencer felt his heart break at your words. You both knew overall, he was smarter. It never occurred to him that your constant bickering was to prove yourself, and not to prove him wrong. "You're better." Spencer decided to say. "I mean, I can't relate to our victims, hell, our unsubs the way you can."

"Spencer,"

"I'm serious." He continued. "You're so important to this team. You-you push us to be better." Spencer cleared his throat, "You push me to be better."

You stared at Spencer blankly for a moment, "I never told you that I like this haircut."

Spencer gave you a slightly surprised look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You hummed. "It makes you look, I don't know, less like Einstein and more like, uh, a really smart James Dean."

"James Dean," Spencer repeated, "I've never gotten that one before. Are those meds talking right now?"

You shook your head slowly, "Probably the clearest I've thought in a while." You replied, causing Spencer to smile. "Why did you stay with me?"

Spencer paused for a moment, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know we bicker a lot. Well, more than a lot. Probably several times a day, but I still care about you. I-I was.. really scared for you. I don't think I could forgive myself if I let you walk in there and you'd died."

"It wouldn't have been your fault," You tried. Spencer just shook his head.

"It would have been. I should've rationalized it with you. When I saw you, I just thought, 'What have I been doing this whole time? Have I really been wasting my breath arguing with you when we could've made the best team'? I remember when Rossi first introduced you, I was like, 'No way someone this pretty is doing this', when you should've been some model or something." Spencer rambled. He did that, paired with hand fidgeting, when he was nervous. He rambled as he played with your fingers.

You took a breath in, hoping for the best. "Hey, maybe we could, uh, go to one of those team based trivia nights at O'Keefe's?"

"Are-are you asking me out?" Spencer asked.

"Only if you're saying yes." You responded. "I, uh, maybe thought we could start over."

Spencer gave a chuckle, "Yeah, trivia night sounds good. I'd like a retry at this. Maybe we're, uh, meant to be more than just a team."

You smiled at him, knowing that a simple friendship wouldn't be highest point of your new relationship with the genius.

#spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #bau team #criminal minds fandom #dr reid

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wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 11 months ago

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I’m a fierce believer and defender of Smooth Brain Astarion (affectionate).

I love that, if left to his own devices, he ends up dead in a ditch. I love that this pasty menace of an elf is a walking disaster. I love that his brain produces one coherent thought per day, only to have it backfire on him later on. I love that his first choice in freedom is to unapologetically be the worst version of himself. Because it makes sense.

That’s what abuse and trauma do to your brain—they fuck with it.

And in Astarion’s defence, the man didn’t have to use his brain for nearly 200 years—it’s probably the very thing that kept him as alive as he can be; to survive 200 years of pure shit.

And what use is his brain when his days and nights are dictated by someone else for as long as he can remember? When he has no say in what clothes he wears. When he doesn’t get to choose what or when to eat. When his body and mind aren’t his own, distorted by torture and hunger and self-loathing, forced to obey his vampiric master. Why use his brain when his survival depends exclusively on his abuser’s whims?

Astarion could’ve come up with the most brilliant plan possible to escape Cazador or save a mark from their doom, but he never stood a chance of succeeding—which doesn’t mean that he didn’t get punished for trying (or even thinking about it) anyway.

Existing under Cazador was a game he couldn’t win, so why bother playing?

And it’s only by chance that Astarion’s autonomy is returned to him literally overnight. It’s only natural that he’s overwhelmed by his newfound freedom. How is he expected to make sound decisions when he can’t even recall a time when he could do and say as he pleased?

Of course Astarion is a walking disaster when he finds himself on that beach after the Nautiloid crash—and he’s fully aware of that! That’s why it’s so crucial for him to get on the player’s/other companion’s good side.

He’s self-aware enough to be so insecure about himself that he would rather trust a stranger’s capabilities than his own.

Being a catastrophe of a person is part of Astarion’s character journey. Not only does he have to reclaim his personhood, he has to learn how to depend on his own brain again and I think that's such a painfully beautiful, important message Baldur’s Gate 3 sends.

Because healing isn’t pretty. Nor is it easy.

You’re not alright the moment you’re free of whatever horrors you had to live through—and that’s ok! There’s time and room for you to adjust.

And the moment Astarion feels more or less safe within his new environment, when he’s fed and treated like a person worthy of respect and consideration, his insights, skills and perception are crucial assets to the group.

Astarion knows his art and literature, and although his little remarks are unhinged at times, he's genuinely witty. Even his objections are, considering the circumstances, absolutely legitimate.

Personally, I love seeing Smooth Brain Astarion become more and more secure in his judgement the more Tav/other companions trust and support him.

Astarion is smart, his brain’s just been stewed for nearly 200 years.

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #baldur’s gate iii #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanons #smooth brain astarion I will defend you until you can do it yourself #trauma can give you literal brain damage #of course he's a little eccentric #tw: trauma #tw: abuse #smooth brain astarion

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cher-rei · 5 months ago

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sparks— jamal musiala [ J.M ]

how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist [saturn– sleeping at last]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: it's the knockout stage for germany for the 2024 euro, and as usual you're there to support your boyfriend, accompanied by some bad weather and a bet to spice up the evening.

genre(s): fluff (as usual)

[w.c: 3.3k] masterlist

notes: I had such a fun time writing this shut upppp shsjssj. this one is for my musiala girlies xx

"this weather is going to be the death of me," you said and took your seat beside your friends sophia and aaliyah who were huddled together in attempt to defeat the crisp yet strong german wind.

you tucked your chin into your scarf, but even then it didn't help. the three of you actually remembered to dress warm for today's match, unlike the last few games where you whole heartedly believed that the rain was just an episode.

before leaving the house sophia had to remind both you and aaliyah to bring scarfs because she had a bad feeling. so here you were, at the stadium in dortmund dressed in a pair of jeans, a cream knitted jumper, and a wool jacket that unfortunately hid your football jersey with your boyfriend's name decorated at the back.

the stadium was bustling and you couldn't believe that supporters still came out to watch football under these conditions, but it was an important match and you were filled with just as much anxiety and anticipation as them.

jamal was all the more excited the evening before when he facetimed you from his hotel room. there was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke to you about training and how his day had been and it just reminded you of how much you missed him.

sophia and aaliyah agreed with you in that department, understanding just how difficult it was to be separated from their partners this long. but the three of you managed (barely) and showed up to every match together to show your support.

needless to say, the media were having a ball with the amount of content and pictures that were published of the three of you every week. there wasn't any issue with it however and jamal quite liked the fact that he got to show you off, saying that the world deserved to know just how smitten he was with you.

it was about twenty minutes into the first half when you felt a drop of rain hit your hand, having nothing much to do besides groan and deal with it. so far, little progress was made on the pitch despite the three shots on target that germany had.

"good on denmark for putting up a fight, but I'd really appreciate it if they gave up so that we can go home," aaliyah joked and you fought back a smile, while sophia was sat in her seat with a torn expression.

there was a small pout on her lips and by that look you knew that she was worried about kai. her gaze was glued to his figure running on the pitch, mentally cheering him on. "I think the rain is messing with him."

you hummed and lifted your head to look at the darkened sky, your face scrunching at the sight of the heavier clouds blowing over the stadium. the wind had started to pick up now which made the experience even more uncomfortable but you had to endure it.

a smile tugged at your lips as you watched your boyfriend make his tackles. there was just something about watching him play that made you appreciate the sport more, it was enticing. "pure class," you said out loud with a boastful smile.

sophia jokingly scoffed at your comment which caught the attention of aaliyah who felt the need to tease her. "what are you scoffing for?" she asked with a smug smile. "kai missed two goals already."

your lips parted in shock, but you remained silent and proceeded to listen to them go at each other from each side of you.

"yeah, well at least he had the chance. remind me where flo is again?" sophia countered and you let a laugh slip out at the attack on florian who was on the bench.

the teasing didn't stop though, and it got to the point where you had to physically back away because they were both leaning over you to take a jab at the other. the roaring of the fans was soon interrupted by an even louder roar which you recognised to be thunder.

seconds after, the rain got heavier and it was pouring. you heard the whistle blow from the pitch and apparently the match officials were taking an intermission to check if the lightning would be an issue any further.

you felt sophia's hand slip into yours, the chill sending a shiver down your spine. the three of you were nearly drenched and if it was one privilege that you loved then it was the option to sit in the booth at times like these.

it was announced that the match would be suspended until further notice due to the weather ten minutes before half time and your head instinctively turned to look for your boyfriend, to check if he was okay before you got up from your seat.

"and this is our cue to leave," aaliyah said and led you and sophia through the rampaging crowd to the top of the stands where you'd be covered.

the supporters however were doing the exact opposite and rejoicing in the downpour— dancing and waving their flags in the air while some used it as a form of shelter. the sight was anything but ordinary and you couldn't help but bask in the atmosphere.

another boom of thunder sounded through the air causing sophia to jump up beside you, her grip tightening on your hand. the three of you looked up at the sky, awing in unison at the strikes of lightning flashing between the clouds.

there was only one thing on your mind, and it was the need to take a picture. you took out your phone and waited for the perfect moment, practicically spamming the button until it hit the perfect shot.

aaliyah awed at the picture from behind you. "you have to send that to me, that looks unreal."

after a few more minutes and pictures being taken you finally made it upstairs to dry off. both teams were in their dressing rooms as well, probably more scared than ever because of the match interruption. uncertainty hung in the air at times like this, where all they could do was wait.

the door to the family booth that the three of you were sat in just closed when someone opened it again. to no one's surprise entered kai and florian sporting two completely different looks.

sophia's eyes softened at her boyfriend's state, his hair damp and kit looking like it just took a swim. she hesitated for a moment to pull him into a hug for some comfort seeing as he wasn't having the best time on the pitch.

aaliyah on the other hand ruffled her boyfriend's hair and laughed, gaining sophia's attention. "see what being on the bench does? he's as dry as the sahara right now while kai looks like he just drowned."

from beside aaliyah, florian's jaw dropped in offence, at the mention of him being benched which quickly broke out banter between the two while sophia was still comforting kai and giving him some words of encouragement.

watching them interact made your heart swell, making you miss jamal even more. and as if you summoned him, your smiling but breathless boyfriend made his entrance and without time to spare he pulled you into a tight hug.

despite the chill in the air and his body, you were filled with a warmth that you've missed so much the past few weeks. so much that you could almost excuse his audacity to hug you when he was dripping from head to toe.

you pulled away with a smile. "j, did you see the lightning? I can't believe that it's summer right now."

jamal looked at you puzzled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I came here to say that I missed you to the point of an enotional brekdown and you ask me about the lightning?"

your lips pursed at his counter but before you could defend yourself he pressed a quick but much needed kiss to your cheek. "we'll talk later, I just really needed to see you."

he looked up at his teammates who were leisurely enjoying their time with their partners, a look of disapproval on his face. "am I the only one who cares that we're playing an international knockout stage right now?"

"flo doesn't care, he's on the bench," aaliyah said and shot her boyfriend a teasing smile. "isn't that right babe?"

the german supporters in the stands all screamed in victory at the penalty that was given, and to no one's surprise kai was the one who was ready to take it and potentially put them in the lead.

aaliyah leant forward and looked at both you and sophia with a determined smile. "I think it's time for a bet."

a hum of intrigue left your lips at the idea but sophia shook her head. "he's going to get this in... I hope." she looked at her boyfriend who stood uneasily in front of the penalty area.

but a few words were exchanged between the three of you and an agreement was made.

"there's still 40 minutes left," she began and gestured to the pitch. "they're capable I'm sure, but whoever's boyfriend doesn't score has to pay for lunch tomorrow."

your eyebrows raised when she said "lunch". you knew very well that it wasn't just a meal. it consisted of breakfast, a trip to the museum or any activity really, lunch and supper. the loser would have to pay for the entire day, and it was no joke that you three were expensive.

aaliyah was more than confident in florian being subbed on and scoring, sophia was more uneasy than kai at the moment but had hope in her boyfriend, and you didn't really mind paying but you could never back down from a challenge.

the three of you shook on it and watched as kai got ready to take the penalty, everyone holding their breath in unison. it happened in a blink of an eye but the goal had sophia jumping up from her seat and clapping as loud as she could.

"guess I'm eating for free tomorrow," she teased and sat back down to which you rolled your eyes. aaliyah on the other hand shot you a competitive glare, causing you to laugh.

you eased back into your seat and shoved your hands into your coat pocket. "if jamal scores then I'll stand in the rain without my coat on, and if flo scores--"

"miraculously," sophia interjected which earned her a playful slap on the arm from aaliyah who quickly turned her attention back to you.

"then I'll have to? on the pitch?" she asked with her eyebrows raised and you nodded. she ran her tongue over her teeth and shook your hand, loving that you were upping the stakes and adding some more to the bet.

a good 10 minutes of no action went by and you were watching with immense focus, your gaze not trailing from jamal who looked breathtaking drenched in water, and without even saying anything sophia read your mind.

"they look ten times better with water dripping from them on the pitch, it adds something extra," she said bashfully and took her phone out to take a few pictures of kai since he wasn't too far away.

she then looked to aaliyah with a smug smirk. "obviously you wouldn't understand because flo is dryer than the sahara."

you covered your mouth at the retort about what aaliyah said earlier on. it seemed that the two of them never ended their playful banter, and you were always in the middle without complaining because it was genuinely so entertaining.

while they continued to talk, the universe gifted you with this perfect opportunity because you caught a certain someone's attention. he wasn't doing much on the pitch and you took advantage of the moment and gestured to the goalpost.

of course, jamal was confused but he was more than certain that you were asking him to score. he jogged on but kept his attention on you for a moment, and you gestured to the goalpost again, flashed him a loving smile and made a heart with your hands.

from beside you aaliyah let out a gasp. "that's literally cheating! you can't tell him to score."

you raised your hands in defence seeing as jamal had run off and continued to play. "I'm not doing this for me liya, I don't mind paying. and even if he does then I have to strip in this weather."

aaliyah shook her head at you, disagreeing with you wholeheartedly even though you tried to defend yourself. there wasn't much to say since you were being honest. "I told him to score because it gives him extra motivation."

now both sophia and aaliyah hummed unconvinced, to which you sighed.

"he just does better if I ask him to, okay? and he really wants that third goal, so if I ask him to do it then he'll do anything he can to get it."

it was practically scientifically proven (to you at least). jamal was always the type of person to do anything you asked him to, even before you guys started dating. all it took was a smile and he'd make sure that what you wanted was handed to you on a silver platter.

the devotion that he had towards you was unmatched, especially when it came to scoring or performing well on the pitch. no matter how he played, you always sat in the stands with a proud smile on your face and the appreciation that he was yours.

so even if he could barely see you from the stands, a simple gesture to the goalpost was enough of a tell tale that you wanted a goal. and if you wanted something, then he'd get it for you.

"and it's in from musiala!!!"

the german supporters jolted in their sears at the unexpected goal, rejoicing in the 2-0 lead and celebrating the clear advantage they had in heading to the quarter finals. you were the first one out of your seat the second the ball hit the back of your net, not minding the light drizzle hitting your face as you watched your boyfriend celebrate.

of course, he didn't forget about you and made sure to send a heart your way, one that you were more than happy to return. the adrenaline rushed to your cheeks in the form of a blush and looked at your friends with a smug smile.

they both sat in disbelief, their lips parted as you clapped. "I need that type of devotion in my life," sophia said and nudged your arm.

it wasn't too long that florian was subbed on for jamal, which was hilariously funny considering the context. aaliyah clapped with her lips pouted. "come on let's make it three for three, bench boy!"

both you and sophia burst out into a fit of laughter at her comment, and you swore that you saw flo turn to look at her with an expression that screamed "what the actual fuck??".

it was heading into the last few minutes of the match and despite flo having a few good opportunities, he took none of them. aaliyah grew frustrated from beside you, complaining about the incompetence of the players even though they did nothing wrong.

it was obvious that she was the one with the temper in the group, and that only showed even more when florian had a good run with the ball and she was practically sitting on the edge of her seat, screaming for him to kick it to which he did.

"yes that's what I'm talking about!" she screamed and hit her chest in victory. "three for three girls."

her moment of bliss didn't last long however because the referee blew the whistle for offside. she wasn't happy about that at all either and fought back a mouthful of curses. "what the fuck? how was the offside??"

the whistle blew for full time after a very eventful knockout stage, you and sophia adorning smiles while aaliyah was still complaining about the linesman not raising the flag sooner. the supporters started exiting the stadium slowly as the players went out onto the pitch.

the three of you weren't in any rush however, and made your way down leisurely. "at least you don't have to strip in the rain," sophia laughed and you rolled your eyes.

the rain did in fact start to pick up, and the light drizzle was lightly pouring now instead. you head out onto the pitch with them and started by removing your scarf and handed it to aaliyah who was more than happy to take it.

they watched with smiles as you took off your jacket, followed by your jumper to reveal the thin football jersey underneath. when they were happy with you, they headed off to their respective partners.

"you had one job! now I have to pay for lunch tomorrow!" aaliyah yelled as she approached flo who could've have been more confused. he threw his hands into the air at his girlfriend's outburst.

"thanks for the support I guess," he said and the two walked off to complain to kai and sophia.

for the nth time this evening you raised your head to look at the dark clouds hanging over the stadium, enjoying the feeling of the rain hitting your skin.

the moment of silence was interrupted by the feeling of someone tickling your side, and you turned to see your boyfriend who looked happier than ever.

"well done out there starboy," you said and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while his hands took refuge on your waist.

he leant in to pepper your face with kisses, and you relished in the warmth you missed more than life itself. "when my girlfriend asks for something, she gets it."

your stomach did at least three flips at his answer and to anyone watching it seemed like this scene was straight out of a movie. seriously, you were standing in the middle of a football pitch in the rain. insane.

jamal pulled away to dry your face despite his sleeve being just as wet. "now can you please tell me why you aren't wearing a jacket right now, baby?"

your shoulders shrugged at his question. "I won the bet."

"huh?" he laughed at the absurdity and tried to make sense of what yoh had just told him, because in no way did it seem that being vulnerable in weather like this could be a reward. "and what did you win?"

you couldn't suppress the smile on your face, losing yourself in his eyes that felt all too close to home. "I won a very happy boyfriend."

the warmth of his hand cupping your cheek wasn't even registered until you felt his lips meet yours. the rain cascaded, each drop of rain that hit your skin being a reminder of just how real this moment was. how real he was.

his hands gently gripped your waist, and he pulled you closer for some extra warmth. the coolness of the rain heightened every sensation in your body— the warmth of his lips and his touch and the pounding of you heart against his chest.

and when the two of you finally pulled away, breathless but more in love than ever you were reminded to be thankful for moments like this. the rain continued to fall, but it no longer felt cold because all that mattered was the warmth of jamal as he looked at you with a softened gaze.

"we should kiss in the rain more often."

#cherrei writes #jamal musiala x reader #jamal musiala #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #bayern munich #euro 2024 #jamal musiala fanfic

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cheesiedomino · 10 months ago

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Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

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crucialplayer · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on Mars placements

!! everything is based purely on my experiences with signs, written with no other purpose than to share my observations and be unserious.

Aries mars. Practical jokes lovers, gentle touch haters. Hit u while laughing. Love the banter, sometimes a lil too much. Go for it (whatever it is) fiercely and without a single backthought. Explosive in conflict, but in a sense of crying screaming throwing up banging against the wall.

Taurus mars. Life could be on Mars but they still be going on and on about that one thing. Sudden outbursts of anger. It might seem out of the blue but they’ve probably been brooding some hurt for a long time. They just hoped it’d go away… naturally. Also surprisingly horny.

Gemini mars. Mind fuckers. That one guy defending polygamy «as a concept» rather too enthusiastically. Can talk their way out of hell with one leg already in the hottest boiling cauldron. I suppose it’s a placement most people will find charming at some point (says a lot about society…).

Cancer mars. Rumors are true, the sky is blue, and they are manipulative. Watching anybody else display vulnerability is the same as watching a children’s play to them. Ur rawest and most disturbing moment? To a cancer mars its a chill Tuesday morning. Humanization of a silent treatment.

Leo mars. You’d gather that its serious by the sheer scale of their reaction but I promise its not. 9 times out of 10 will cause a huge scene and won't be able to remember it 2 days after. Very defensive. Won't put themselves out there if they’re not guaranteed a 10-minute standing ovation.

Virgo mars. They believe that they make sense but usually they don't. They’re calculating but it’s like they do it backwards resulting in some of the most unhinged decisions made. Want to be praised for… um… existing as they are. Kind of a menace in conflict.

Libra mars. If u think it's hard for you to wait for them to make up their mind imagine how they feel. It’s similar to watching a plant move without a time-lapse. Cry when they’re angry. Go with the flow not because they’re chill but more cause it's easier for them.

Scorpio mars. They ARE vengeance and I'm scared. Slash 3 tires after one fight mars. Not the person you’d try to make jokingly jealous. For further information read the lyrics to… really any Taylor Swift song.

Sagittarius mars. Don't think before they do and think after they’ve done smth only if u make them. The kind of people that will try everything once just to know how it feels (and then present that to everyone as if they’ve found god by bungee jumping one time). Very easy to dare. Also are always checking someone out.

Capricorn mars. Blood is cold, the heart is beating twice per minute. ISN’T IT lonely on top of the world fellas??? If u get them to like u your love language better not be words of affirmation. Instead of arguing chances are high they disappear for a while or just go into a rock regime.

Aquarius mars. Are only attracted to intellectuals so naturally in a room full of sweet gentle people will go for the most narcissistic motherfucker out there. They’re sorta very patient but I feel maybe it's just them dissociating… Ponder a lot before making a move.

Pisces mars. I'm afraid no one knows whats going on there. It's like they’re never actually present. Therefore often times can have a delayed reaction to smth, which people might read as passive aggression. Very sentimental, will write u a song or a poem on a second date. Also low LOW energy.

#astro notes #astro observations #natal chart #mars placements #aries mars #taurus mars #gemini mars #cancer mars #leo mars #virgo mars #libra mars #scorpio mars #sagittarius mars #capricorn mars #aquarius mars #pisces mars #zodiac signs

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c0mbatchameleon · 8 months ago

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@jegulus-microfic April 21st, prompt: run, words: 1160, nsfw

aka regulus comes until he cries? that’s basically it yeah (+t4t jeg)

He shouldn’t cry.

It’s what Regulus has heard since—well, as early as he can remember. Crying is a vulnerability he can’t afford, a sign of weakness, and the Black family are anything but weak. Don’t be a baby, they’d say—to the literal fucking baby.

The last time Regulus cried was when he was 7 years old, he thinks—his mother certainly made sure he never did it again. And even long after he left that house behind, left his family and everything they stand for, found a new family, found a new home and new self unrestrained by hatred and abuse, transitioned, finally became comfortable with himself, his identity—after all of it, this is what he’s held onto. The belief that he shouldnt cry.

At least, it was what he held onto.

Now, as Regulus finds himself bent over the kitchen counter, nails dragging down the cool granite that he’s pressed flush against, he’s beginning to think crying isn’t so bad after all.

The tears started falling after his second consecutive orgasm, streaming freely down his face as he convulsed around James’ strap. James only slowed his thrusts to something deep and drawn out as he leaned forward and cooed, “That’s it baby, let it out,” hot breath cascading down Regulus’s ear and neck, hand stroking his hair gently. Languid kisses pressed down his neck and shoulder as he twitched and softly gasped in overstimulation.

He barely got a chance to catch his breath before—

“How ‘bout one more for me, yeah?” And just like that, James was drawing out and ramming back into him with a brutal pace. Regulus let out a choked gasp as his vision whited out, back arching, legs shaking. All he could respond was a tear-streaked string of oh fuck oh fuck oh fu—ah—please as James continued chanting soft praise and encouragement, railing him into a new fucking plane of existence.

That leaves him here, hurtling head first towards a third orgasm and choking on intermittent sobs and moans in rhythm with James’ thrusts. Each one is hitting that spot that sends a line of white-hot electricity up his navel, fraying his nerves until his entire body feels like an exposed wire. His hands grab for purchase on the countertop, unsuccessfully, as he tries to drag himself up, away, anywhere to put distance between himself and the onslaught of pleasure-pain that’s spreading like a fire across his whole body.

But James only digs his hand into Regulus’ curls and pulls, the other wrapped around the front of him so Regulus’ cock grinds into it with each movement of their hips. “Where are you trying to run off to, love?” he teases as his grip tightens and holds Regulus in place.

“Oh fuck— I can’t—“ Regulus’ own moan cuts him off, loud and lacking shame. “S’too much,” he whines.

“But you love it, don’t you?” Soft lips trace up behind his ear. “You don’t want me to stop, love, do you?” Regulus’ eyes roll back into his head. The hand presses down further on his cock and another sob escapes him. “C’mon, tell me how much you love it when I take you apart like this,” James coaxes, pulling him up further by his hair so that he has to balance on his forearms, his head falling back.

And, here, in this state of over-saturated, pure white static bliss where Regulus can barely distinguish reality, the world around him, anything other than James’ hands and James’ lips and James’ sweet-honey voice and James and James and James, the only thought he can form amidst the haze is the one James has supplied for him so graciously, so giving as always: that he loves it.

You love it, don’t you?

And Regulus does.

He loves having his walls taken down, brick by brick until he’s bare, surrendered to pleasure and to release. God, he fucking loves this release. The kind he never allowed himself before, the way it washes over his whole body and builds up like a dam, the way it flows in and out of him, completely open, running rivers down his face and sending shocks out from his core, chest heaving, bones melting, transcending his own body and yet more grounded in it than he’s ever been. He’s nothing but skin and shaking muscle and neuron and nerve ending and pure, unfiltered feeling, and, yes, he loves it. So, he does what he’s told and voices it, let’s it flow out of him like the rest of the dam, frantic and breathless.

“I love it, I—ah—oh—I love it, I love it I love it I—fuck—“

“That’s good, that’s right, fuck, you’re doing so well, baby. You look so pretty when you cry like this” James praises, breathless now, tone soaked in awe and pure adoration as he watches Regulus repeat the phrase like a mantra, an oath, a prayer, the words melting together to the point of near incoherence: I love it I love it Iloveitloveitloveitloveloveitloveit.

“That’s it, I know, baby,” he tugs on Regulus’ curls again, pulling him up against his chest. The new angle makes his cock drive deeper into Regulus, drawing a strangled moan out between his quick, gasping breaths. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

His fingers move in quick circles on Regulus’ cock, other arm wrapping around his shoulders to hold him up. “C’mon, let go for me one more time, Star.”

The simple order is all it takes. When Regulus comes, it’s with stars behind his eyes and tears flowing freely and a scream tearing through him, head hanging back on James’ shoulder, back bowed, clenching down on silicone as shudders rack through his body in waves. James works him through it with a slew of there you go and so good for me and so perfect and show me how good it feels, baby, that’s it.

He collapses back onto James, boneless, and breathes. Shakily. James squeezes him tight. All that concentrated flame has simmered and spread out into something soft and warm and buzzing all throughout his body. A small whimper escapes at the feeling of James pulling out, his core still throbbing around nothing.

James scoops him up easily, laying him down gently on the couch in the next room, and kneels down to cradle his face with his hands.

“Okay?” he asks softly, kissing Regulus’ forehead.

Regulus keeps his eyes closed and smiles in delirious dream-state bliss, just barely aware that he’s still sniffling. “Love it,” he mumbles, and James snorts as his thumbs swipe back and forth under his eyes. His head is still cloudy, his body floating somewhere with it. “Love you,” he adds dazedly.

“Always so sweet after you come,” James remarks. “Think if I get you to five next time you’d propose to me after?”

If Regulus had the energy, he’d roll his eyes. Instead, he reaches out and runs his hand through James’ hair, down the back of his neck, along the scars on his chest, down his arm where he grabs his hand and pulls it into his own chest, body curling around it like he’s hoarding it. James doesn’t seem to mind. “We’re already married, James,” Regulus mumbles. “I literally proposed.”

James chuckles softly, fondly. “I love you, too, Star.”

#microfic brought to u by lana del rey #nails in the kitchen et al #anyways I don’t actually know how I feel abt this but here we are #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james potter x regulus black #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders #the marauders #jegulus microfic #writing stuff and things #microfic tag #jegulus fic

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lyvhie · 7 months ago

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a different kind of exercise | ljn

personal trainer!jeno × fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: he just wanted to give you a private lesson.

a/n: sorry, that didn't go well as i wanted, but i didn't have anything planned for his bday and this ended up coming out 😭 i didn't like that one, but happy bday to jeno!

cw: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, petnames (baby/pretty)

jeno was not planning on this. yet he was glad it happened.

when he accepted to be your personal trainer, he didn't think much about it. you seemed like a genuine newbie in the gym, seeking legitimate help. unlike other people, you hadn't chosen him just because of his good looks, he could see that you actually wanted to learn.

he wasn't expecting much to come from your time together aside from some casual conversation during workouts and the occasional advice about exercising, but he found himself growing more interested in you than his purpose of teaching.

he didn't know why exactly, but he felt an attraction to you that he couldn't explain. sometimes he would even find himself acting like a pervert. and he knew that was wrong, but it was all somehow your fault.

he would often blame you for wearing those tight leggings that gripped onto your body like a second skin. he knew it wasn't fair to blame you for their existence, but he also couldn't help but be distracted by their form-fittedness.

but he was glad you wore them. he loved it when you folded forward, giving him a great view of your ass. he would make up some excuse about you doing it wrong just to get closer and hold your waist. he would press you against him and lean over you, telling you "how it should be done," while enjoying the feel of your body pressed against his. he enjoyed taking his time to "help you do it right" so that he could spend more time up close with your ass rubbing against his cock.

or when he is "helping you out" by adjusting your position and form while doing an exercise. he knew that wasn't necessary, but he used the excuse of "straightening you up" to sneak his hands around you. he would grab a handful of your breasts, pretending to position you properly to do the exercise but actually taking the chance to feel you up.

jeno would often find excuses to get close to you, brushing up against you or putting his hands on your body more often than necessary, always trying to touch you in subtle ways that he hoped you wouldn't notice.

and that was the best—or worst—part of it all. you were completely clueless about his actions, genuinely thinking it was just his way of teaching. honestly, it wasn't bothering you at all. in fact, you even secretly enjoyed it when he was "just teaching you" and getting a bit too close for comfort by holding you up and touching your body.

but still, for jeno, this was pure agony too. all he craved was to fuck you senseless until you were practically limping, but he couldn't just spit it out. ever since your sessions began, he caught himself fucking his fist at night thinking about you, he'd daydream about pounding into you, making you yell his name 'til you were hoarse.

gosh, he needed you so bad.

and so he made it.

it was easier than he thought. all he had to do was come with an excuse to get you to his house. saying he needed to "go over some information" about your exercises and "get more in-depth" with your routine, he asked you to come over to his place to "work through the details" of your activities.

he can't really remember how things escalated from telling you to make yourself comfortable to him pressing you up against the bed mattress with your legs around his waist while you cry out his name because of how good it feels to have his cock stretching your tight pussy.

“you feel so—god, so f-fucking good,” jeno’s hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts deeper into you, his movements becoming more urgent with each passing second. your hands were gripping the sheet so tightly that your knuckles were white, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“y-you're so tight, baby,” he looked down to see where your bodies connected, watching as his length disappeared into your welcoming pussy.

"fuck, y/n... you take me so well,” he breathes heavily, trying to maintain control as you clench around him. "i could stay here forever,” his cock slamming into you with such force that you could feel it in your bones.

the sensation of him filling you up completely is almost too much to bear, but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world right now.

jeno feels your body tensing up and your warm walls squeezing him again, making him groan. “are you close, pretty?” the only answer for his question were your loud moan and it was enough for him.

you gasp when he suddenly changes your position, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder and driving himself even deeper inside of you. the new angle hits all the right spots, and you feel yourself being stretched to the limit, even more sensitive as his hand slip down to rub your clit.

you starts to feel an orgasm building inside of you, which made you let a whine escape your lips. you didn't want this moment to end, but you know it's going to be explosive when it finally does. you focus on the sensation of him filling you up, on the sound of your bodies slapping together, and on the scent of sex in the air. it's a heady combination that sends you over the edge, you body shuddering and convulsing beneath his as you milk his cock.

jeno himself couldn’t hold back his own climax any longer, the way your face contorts in pure bliss as you come undone beneath him sends him over the edge. feeling his orgasm getting closer and closer, his thrusts became a little more messy, but still at the same pace. it felt so good he almost forgot to pull out, withdrawing just in time to cum on your thigh, his hot load sticking to your skin.

he falls onto the bed next to you, the only sound now is your heavy breathing as you both try to compose yourself. you continue to silently stare at the ceiling for a few more minutes before turning your head to look at him, just to find him already looking at you.

“so…” you begin. “same time next week?”

#jeno x reader #jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader

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londonfoginacup · 2 months ago

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Fuck. I missed my 10 year 1D anniversary by 17 days. September 29, 2014 SMG played on Radio 1 and I was changed.

Liam was my favorite. He’s always felt like home in a very specific way. Everything that I would say has been said. He deserved the chance to get better. He deserved the chance to atone. I will always be devastated that this is how it went.

To me Liam will always be that 21 year old trying his best, because I was a 21 year old trying my best. He will always be that bit of sunshine and joy who never said the right thing but his heart was in the right place. I will miss him and the grief will hit and it will hit and it will hit, because he was part of the everything that was pure magic in my bloodstream at a time when I didn’t know magic like that existed.

I saw 1D at the age of 22, exactly 31 days before I broke up with my boyfriend (who hated them). I remember literally ONE thing from that concert and it’s the moment that Liam said something so dumb that I knew, in that moment, that when I went home and booted up my laptop, people would be dunking on him for it. And they were.

He had too much on his shoulders from the very beginning and I only wish we could’ve help.

I’ve missed him for a while and I miss him now and I’ll always miss him.

But I loved him. And I love him.

And I love you all.

To every one of you who has journeyed in any form with me, I thank you. This fandom transformed me as a person, taught me what I was missing in life. I can honestly say I would likely have gotten married at 23 to a man who would turn out to be a Trump supporter, and be perfectly miserable now, if not for all of you.

This year has been one full of burnout and learning to cope with the bad sides of being an adult, and the burnout is still there and I’m still crawling my way through, but still yall have been here with me. I cannot thank you enough.

I miss Liam already. I miss him. I don’t want go to go work tomorrow and be given condolences. I don’t want to hear strangers talking about this pain that feels so private. I don’t want it to be real. I want this to be a bad dream.

But. I am so thankful to the fandom. I wish I could pay yall back properly for the wonderful experiences you’ve given me. I love you all.

#I’ve paused my queue because my queue is 2000 posts long and I shuffle it whenever I add to it #so I don’t know what’s in there #I can’t imagine not continuing to include him in fics #he’ll be in my advent #it feels disrespectful to not put him in there #I need to be able to write him happy again #I need to be able to write him as he was to me

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illubean · 4 months ago

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ooooh if i can request a fic or hc, can you do the phantom troupe or just chrollo, feitan, phinks, shalnark, and shizuku (if its too many for all the phantom troupe) with like an angelic fem s/o like full on wings and halo and her nen ability is healing?

(if u dont like it its fine :) have a good day everyday! sending virtual hugs!!!)

Phantom Troupe w/ an Angelic!S/o

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor, Shalnark, Shizuku Murasaki Type: Headcanons, written Fem!Reader in mind

this has been marinating in the drafts for a while whoopsies

Warnings: some toxic behaviors

Chrollo Lucilfer

ngl he's prob thought of just stealing your nen then killing you and preserving your wings

butttttt you were interesting to him so he decided against it

he decided it was more worth it to keep you around then have to go through the trouble of all of that

did he massacre an entire clan for their eyeballs? well yeah but like...they weren't THAT special to him

but you?

he thought you were gorgeous

and he was intrigued by your very existence

after you start dating and you start trusting him he probably just locks you up somewhere under the pretense of "keeping you safe" aka making sure no one can kill the troupe's personal medic

despite that he still treats you very well

he likes to bring you stolen gifts and shower you in praise whenever he gets the chance

if he could make a cult around you he probably would

Feitan Portor

very confused how someone meant to be the epitome of pureness ended up with him of all people

he is one of the more viscous members of the troupe

seriously, you chose HIM????

thinking about it brings him to...not so appropriate territory

all I will say is he is a wee bit perverted and his brain is going down the corruption route

n e wayzzz he's probably scared to touch you when you first get together

you're just so pretty and delicate that he doesn't want to hurt you

he often comes to you when he's wounded and won't say a word about it

whenever you touch him while healing him his face dusts a light pink and he has to avoid eye contact <3

he may get a wee jealous if you tend to the other troupe members

sometimes when he's on missions he won't dodge attacks that he could've easily just for an excuse to have you touch and tend to him again (you could've just asked babes)

Shalnark

another confused one but not as self deprecating as Feitan

like why are you with him he's a criminal but also he's not THAT bad right???

he probably asks you if he's going to hell when he dies

actually he asks you tons of questions in general

like how does your nen work, how did you get your wings/halo, how did you end up walking around on earth like every other human??

he is very curious like shinee

sometimes he likes to just stare at you

and he especially likes to watch you work

he is amazed by your healing abilities every time

but most of all he likes watching you do mundane things

like watering the flowers outside or setting out food for stray cats

he thinks you are adorable

Shizuku Murasaki

upon first meeting i see this going one of two ways

either your appearance is so unique that she cannot forget you

or she forgets you a few times and thinks she died but didn't remember

you have to reassure her that no, she is not seeing things and she is not dead

she wishes she can keep you all to herself; not because of your powers but because of how ethereal you are

she thinks your too perfect for the public eye

when she has the chance and if you let her she likes to pet the soft feathers on your wings

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ghelgheli · 8 months ago

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hey you might've been asked this before sorry if so, but have you read or do you have any thoughts on A short history of Trans Misogyny?

I have read it! I have a few thoughts.

I think it's a strong and important work that compiles historical archives into sharp analyses of how "trans misogyny" (using Jules Gill-Peterson's spacing) is not a recent phenomenon but a globalized structure with centuries of history. I also think it's flawed, for reasons I'll get into after a quick summary for those who haven't had the chance to read it yet.

JGP divides the book into three main chapters, the first on the notion of "trans panic". There, she traces how variants of this anxiety with the trans-feminized subject have presented—to deadly effect, for the subject—in such different settings as early colonial India, the colonization of the Americas, the racialized interactions between US soldiers stationed in the Philippines and the local trans women living there, and of course the contemporary United States itself. In every case she analyzes this "panic" as the reaction of the capitalist colonial enterprise to the conceptual threat that the trans-feminized subject poses; we are a destabilizing entity, a gender glitch that undermines the rigid guarantees of the patriarchal order maintaining capitalism. Punishment follows.

The second chapter is my favourite, and considers the relationship between transfeminine life and sex work. I posted a concluding excerpt but the thrust of the chapter is this: that the relegation of so many trans women and trans-feminized people to sex work, while accompanied by the derogation and degradation that is associated with sex work, is not itself the mere result of that degradation inflicted upon the subject. In other words, it is not out of pure helplessness and abjection that so many trans-feminized people are involved in sex work. Rather, sex work is a deliberate and calculated choice made by many trans-feminized people in increasingly service-based economies that present limited, often peripheralized, feminized, and/or reproductive, options for paid labour. Paired with a pretty bit of critical confabulation about the histories of Black trans-feminized people travelling the US in the 19th century, I think this made for great reading.

In her third chapter, JGP narrativizes the 20th century relationship between the "gay" and "trans" movements in north america—scare quoted precisely because the two went hand-in-hand for much of their history. She emphasizes this connection, not merely an embedding of one community within another but the tangled mutualism of experiences and subjectivities that co-constituted one another, though not without tension. Then came the liberal capture of the gay rights movement around the 70s, which brought about the famous clashes between the radicalisms of Silvia Rivera and Marsha P Johnson (neither of whom, JGP notes, ever described themselves as trans women) and the institutions of gay liberalism that desired subsumption into the folds of capital. This is a "remember your history" type of chapter, and well-put.

I think JGP is correct to insist, in her introduction, on the globalizing-in-a-destructive-sense effects of the colonial export of trans womanhood. It is, after all, an identity conceived only mid-century to make sense of the medicalized trans subject; and "gender identity" itself (as JGP describes in Histories of the Transgender Child) is a psychomedical concept conceived to rein in the epistemic instability of trans existence. This is critical to keep in mind! But I also think JGP makes a few mistakes, and one of them has to do with this point.

In her first chapter, under the discussion of trans misogyny in colonial India, JGP of course uses the example of the hijra. Unfortunately, she commits two fundamental errors in her use: she mythologizes, however ambiguously, the "ascetic" lives of hijra prior to the arrival of British colonialism; and she says "it's important to say that hijras were not then—and are not today—transgender". In the first place, the reference to the "ascetism" of hijra life prior to the violence of colonialism is evocative of "third-gender" idealizations of primeval gender subjectivities. To put the problem simply: it's well and good to describe the "ritual" roles of gendered subjects people might try to construe contemporarily as "trans women", the priestesses and oracles and divinities of yore. But it is best not to do so too loftily. Being assigned to a particular form of ritualistic reproductive labour because of one's failure to be a man and inability to perform the primary reproductive labour of womanhood-proper is the very marker of the trans-feminized subject. "Ascetism" here obviates the reality that it wasn't all peachy before (I recommend reading Romancing the Transgender Native on this one). Meanwhile, in the after, it is just wrong that hijra are universally not transgender. Many organize specifically under the banners of transfeminism. It's a shame that JGP insists on keeping the trans-feminized life of hijra so firmly demarcated from what she herself acknowledges is globalized transness.

My second big complaint with the book is JGP's slip into a trap I have complained about many times: the equivocation of transfemininity with femininity (do you see why I'm not fond of being described as "transfem"?). She diagnoses the root of transmisogyny as a reaction to the femininity of trans women and other trans-feminized subjects. In this respect she explicitly subscribes to a form of mujerísima, and of the trans-feminized subject as "the most feminine" and (equivalent, as far as she's concerned) "the most woman". Moreover, she locates transfeminist liberation in a singular embrace of mujerísima as descriptive of trans-feminized subjectivity. As I've discussed previously, I think this is a misdiagnosis. Feminization is, of course, something that is done to people; it is certainly the case that the trans-feminized subject is in this way feminized for perceived gender-failure. This subject may simultaneously embrace feminized ways of being for all sorts of reasons. In both cases I think the feminization follows from, rather than precedes, the trans misogyny and trans-feminization, and there is a fair bit of masculinization as de-gendering at play too, to say nothing of the deliberate embrace of masculinity by "trans-feminized" subjects. Masculinity and femininity are already technologies of gender normalization—they are applied against gender deviation and adapted to by the gender deviant. The deviation happens first, in the failure to adhere to the expectations of gender assignment, and I don't think these expectations can be summarized by either masculinity or femininity alone. I think JGP is effectively describing the experience of many trans-feminized people, but I do not think what she presents can be the universalized locus of trans liberation she seems to want it to be.

Now for a pettier complaint that I've made before, but one that I think surfaces JGP's academic context. In her introduction she says:

In truth, everyone is implicated in and shaped by trans misogyny. There is no one who is purely affected by it to the point of living in a state of total victimization, just as there is no one who lives entirely exempt from its machinations. There is no perfect language to be discovered, or invented, to solve the problem of trans misogyny by labeling its proper perpetrator and victim.

Agreed that "there is no perfect language to be discovered"! But JGP is clearly critical of TMA/TME language here. Strange, then, that less than ten pages later she says this:

this book adds the phrase trans-feminized to describe what happens to groups subjected to trans misogyny though they did not, or still do not, wish to be known as transgender women.

So JGP believes it is coherent to talk about "groups subjected to trans misogyny", which she thinks consists of the union of trans women and what she called "trans-feminized" groups. If this is to be coherent, there must be groups not subjected to trans misogny. So we've come around to transmisogyny-subjected and not transmisogyny-subjected. Look: you cannot effectively theorize about transmisogyny without recognizing that its logic paints a particular target, and you will need to come up with a concise way of making this distinction. But JGP dismissing TMA/TME with skepticism about "perfect language" and immediately coining new language (basically TMS/not TMS) to solve the problem she un-solved by rejecting TMA/TME... it smells of a sloppy attempt to make a rhetorical point rather than theoretical rigour. It's frustrating.

I have other minor gripes, like her artificial separation of "trans women" from "nonbinary people" (cf. countless posts on here lamenting the narrow forms of existence granted TMA people if we want recognition as-such!) or her suggestion that "a politics of overcoming the gender binary" is mutually exclusive from rather than necessarily involved with struggles around "prison abolition, police violence, and sex work". Little things that give me the sense of theoretical tunnel-vision. But I don't think all this compromises the book's strengths as a work of broad historical analysis. I would simply not take every one of its claims as authoritative. Definitely give it a read if you have the chance, especially for the second and third chapters.

#ask answer #jules gill-peterson #(i haven't been asked this before ty for asking <3 🐐)#note that this was mostly off the cuff except what i had taken pictures of bc i left the book in toronto for my mom to read

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cutielando · 8 months ago

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hi love! i was wondering if you could write an imagine based of the music videoclip of ariana grande’s “we can’t be friends” and than with Lando x reader? the videoclip ends with ariana forgetting her ex boyfriend and they walk next to each other without knowing each other but can you maybe make the end with after reader removes her memories of her and lando they meet each other again ?

my masterlist

You hadn’t wanted it to come to that. To come to the moment when you wouldn’t even be able to be in the same room as each other without screaming each other’s ears off.

Relationships were not like how people depicted them to be. All sunshine and roses, endless love and no problems whatsoever.

You had wanted to believe that at the beginning. You couldn’t imagine Lando being anything other than a perfect boyfriend. You didn’t even want to pathom the off chance that he would ever hurt you.

And yet, there you two were, screaming at each other in the middle of the streets, dead in the night, under the moonlight and with nobody around. Monaco was silent and peaceful at this hour, but you two weren’t.

You didn’t even remember why you were arguing, what had got the both of you so riled up. It seemed like you didn’t need a reason to fight these days.

After that, after the fighting and the harsh words, came the break up. You should have seen it coming, should have done something to prevent losing the love you two shared, but it was too late.

Your relationship was beyond salvation. And it hurt. It hurt like a real bitch ever since you stopped seeing him walk through the door of your apartment, every time you went to bed and he was not there to hold you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You felt him everywhere you were, saw him in every little thing you would do, every single day.

It had all been too much.

You couldn’t deal with the pain of losing him, of not being able to see him, feel him or talk to him.

Which is why you did the only thing that could help you.

Wipe your memory clean of him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to really do it at first. The idea of forgetting everything about him, every little thing that you loved about him and the way be made you feel, you didn’t want to live in a world where you would never know the way he loved you.

But as time passed and you saw how careless he was, how he was living his life to the fullest like your relationship had never even existed, that pushed you over the edge.

So you called the doctor and scheduled the procedure. Gathering every single memory that you had of him, anything you had that reminded you of him was stacked in a box and carried with you.

In the waiting room, as you read through the contract you were about to sign, sneaking glances at the box in your lap staring back at you, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Two years of your life with Lando fit in a carton box.

It was almost ironic how the most precious thing in your life fitted into a small box.

And soon enough, the contents of the box would forever disappear and everything would disappear from your mind like it had never even been there.

The feeling that you had after you opened your eyes post-procedure had been the best feeling you had ever had. You felt like you were floating, happiness coursing through every single vein and you felt like you were walking on sugar clouds.

You were carefree, not a single problem in the world.

Lando didn’t know about it. He had thought about reaching out, purely to see how you were doing and curious about how you were handling the break up.

He had hoped, as bad as he knew it was, that you were handling it just as badly as he was. He didn’t sleep the same, the sparkle in his eyes was gone and he wasn’t the same Lando anymore.

Everyone could see that, everyone close to him knew that part of him died with the break up.

He didn’t hear about it until he talked to your sister. She had told him about it, about what you had done, and it felt like he had been stabbed in the heart repeatedly.

You had been so hurt by his actions, the pain having become so unbearable that you had resulted to completely altering your memory to wipe everything good about your relationship from your mind.

Everything the two of you had shared.

He couldn’t live with that. He couldn’t allow that to be the end of your story.

He had to fix it. He had to step up and do the right thing, do right by you. But how?

It was simple.

You would start all over again. A clean slate, taken to a whole new meaning.

Which is why he was standing right now in front of you in the paddock, your sister having dragged you with her to the race and helped him arrange everything.

“Hello, how are you?” he had started the conversation, outstretching his hand and waiting for you to shake his.

You looked at him, seeing his eyes bringing a familiarity to your core but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Something in your heart told you this was no stranger to you, this was someone you knew.

But your mind didn’t register anything, completely void of any information about the man standing in front of you.

“I’m okay, really excited to be here for the weekend” your smile, just as beautiful as he had remembered it, clung to your beautiful face, reminding him of why he had fallen in love with you in the first place.

“I’m Lando, by the way”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you”

And maybe, just maybe, you would get another shot at love.

Maybe, this time, you would get your happily ever after.

He would make sure of that.

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drabblesandsnippets · 2 months ago

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The Prize

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 11

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “You look good like this.”| [Kneeling | Tied Down | Ruined] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (9.7k) Bucky and his girlfriend try out their new sex swing, purchased after The Bet. This is a standalone fic and is mostly just pure smut, y’all.

A/N: This is my first fic after my hiatus, and it kind of got away from me 😂 Huge shoutout and thanks to @thinking1bee - without her support and encouraging comments, I'm not sure I would have finished this! Any and all mistakes are my own.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Fluff. Established relationship. Pet names (doll, sweetheart, baby). Brief mention of insecurities. Enthusiastic consent. Praise. Dirty talk. Slight verbal degradation. Masturbation (m). Multiple orgasms (both). Oral (both receiving). Rimming (f). Sex toys (including anal). Cum as lube. Fingering (almost fisting?). Squirting. (Unprotected) PiV. Aftercare.

“Tell me again,” Bucky says, cradling his girlfriend’s face, searching for any hint of hesitation or reluctance. They’re standing in their bedroom, stripped down to their underwear, the soft glow of the lamp providing more than enough light for them to see each other, her bright eyes staring up at him.

The thought of being so vulnerable and exposed definitely gave her pause at first, but Bucky’s been building anticipation, counting down the days since she ‘lost’ the bet, whispering all the dirty things he’s going to do to her.

By the time the sex swing arrived a couple of days ago, her excitement matched his, especially after a quick test of it yesterday, with her clothes on - all of which he promptly ripped off as soon as he helped her down, taking her hard and fast at the edge of the bed.

“I want this,” she tells him with an excited nod of her head, her slightly trembling hands resting against his chest, drawing comfort from the strong beat of his heart. Despite her lingering nerves from years of insecurities, her voice is steady, repeating the same promises she’s been making - she’s not doing this just because he wants her to, and she knows, without a doubt, she can stop at any moment and he won’t be disappointed.

That’s the most important part of all of this to Bucky - her enthusiastic consent. Without it, he wouldn’t have the courage to even attempt this. She’s going to be completely at his mercy, and even though he’s always been able to easily overpower her, this is different. This isn’t holding her down with his weight or grabbing her hair to keep her in place.

She’s going to be in a position that she won’t be able to get out of, one he could easily leave her in or take advantage of if he so chose. He’ll never understand how she’s able to put this much trust in him, but he’ll never take it for granted. All Bucky wants to do is take care of her, bring her all the pleasure she can handle, watch her become a beautiful mess for him.

With the patience and tenderness only she evokes, he removes the last of her clothing, kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, bypassing her most intimate parts. By the time he’s guiding her to the swing, she’s relaxed in his embrace, eager to follow his lead.

Bucky’s never failed to make her feel like the hottest woman in existence, and this is no exception. Allowing him to help her into the swing, she lays back, her upper body fully supported as he tenderly secures her limbs. For now, her arms rest by her head, her hands through the loops as he positions her knees back, the leather straps around her ankles keeping her spread for him.

One look at her and he’s letting out a soft curse, his hungry eyes roaming every inch of her on display, not giving her insecurities a chance to resurface. “You look so good like this, doll.” Better than anything he imagined. And before they go any further, he needs her to remember it for the rest of the night.

Quickly shredding his underwear, Bucky’s cock springs free, hard and glistening with precum from just the sight of her naked and waiting for him. Never taking his eyes off of her, he swipes a generous amount of spit from his mouth and wraps his hand around his shaft, giving himself a few slow, firm strokes to get himself slick.

Mesmerized, her skin grows warm as she watches Bucky pleasure himself, the initial thought that he was already going to fuck her soon replaced by the realization of what’s happening. Proving, once again, how much he wants her, how much she turns him on just by simply existing.

Already breathing heavily, arousal coursing through her veins, she grips the padded chains by her hands and whispers his name, the need for him to touch her evident in her voice. With a slow shake of his head, Bucky gives her that smile that’s been making her weak in the knees since the day she met him.

“Just wanna look at you first,” he tells her, the movement of his hand never ceasing, “I think you forget how much I enjoy just watching you.”

Stepping closer, finding his rightful place between her thighs, Bucky starts stroking his cock faster, barely inches from her inviting pussy, resisting the urge to bury himself inside of her. Between shuddering gasps, he keeps talking, praising her, highlighting all the things he loves about her body, his gaze settling on each spot as she squirms helplessly.

She has half a mind to try to pull her hands free to reach out for him, desperate for more, Bucky’s actions driving her wild. She’s just as eager to see where this is going though, unable to look away as the telltale signs of his impending orgasm start to play out across his features. The tension building in his shoulders, the furrowing of his brow, the delicious noises leaving his parted lips.

“So damn hot, baby,” he growls, drawing another unabashed whimper from her, her own breathy moans increasing right along with his. “I’m not even thinking about all the things I’m gonna do to you and you already have me so fucking close.”

“Oh god,” she breathes, her walls clenching around nothing, her thighs trembling with need. She’s so wet for him, each pass of his hand along his thick cock fueling the lust trying to consume her.

Bucky’s pleasure has always turned her on, but this is a whole new level, the sight of him working himself towards an orgasm all because of her naked body has her on the edge of begging for his touch. He doesn’t give her a chance though, his rough voice suddenly demanding more.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” she exhales sharply, barely letting him finish the question, lifting up from the headrest to get a better look, letting her gaze travel from his flushed face down to his hand moving faster, his strokes focusing on his engorged head, the tip leaking a steady flow of precum.

“Tell me. Tell me you’re mine,” he orders, desperate to hear the words from the woman he loves more than he ever thought he was capable of. She’s more than he could ever deserve, and watching her be so vulnerable for him has him aching to be reminded how much she loves him.

“I’m yours,” she promises, nodding her head, tearing her eyes away from his cock to meet his gaze once again, his intense stare sending a strong surge of pleasure straight to her clit.

A moment that started off just about her has gratefully shifted to a mutual need of assurance and the words spill out of her without any more prompting, “I love you, I love you so much.”

That’s all Bucky needs before he’s letting go with a gasp of her name, followed by a string of curses as hot spurts of his release paint her inner thigh, his vibranium hand gripping the sturdy chain connected to her ankle. It has her panting, the physical sensations caused by the pleasure overwhelming him leaving her dizzy with need, her hands tugging harder at the straps in hopes of grounding herself.

The instant his lungs fill with much needed oxygen, he utters words of love and admiration for her, using every bit of restraint to keep from touching her for now. He plans to give her everything she can handle tonight, but there’s no rush as he comes down, wanting to take his time to explore every delectable inch of her.

With everything they could possibly need laid out at the foot of the bed, Bucky reaches for the damp washcloth and brings it to her skin, cleaning her up with slow, smooth movements, making a mental note to do this again when he can take a picture of her covered with his seed, the promising image causing his cock to twitch.

Once she’s free of his mark, he tosses the washcloth and finally takes pity on her, his hands following the earlier path his eyes had taken, caressing parts of her that he’ll never get enough of. Her kissable lips. Her neck, the perfect size to wrap his hand around. Her strong arms. Her beautiful tits and pebbled nipples. Her soft belly, the way it moves under his touch. Her thick, sensitive thighs that were made to squeeze him.

By the time he’s dragging the back of his fingers closer to her pussy, she’s trembling, writhing and whimpering, her breaths quick and uneven. Her responses are addicting, driving him to continue teasing her, his fingertips ghosting over her mound before moving back up, bypassing all her ticklish spots until he’s back to her breasts, cupping them in his large hands.

“Yes, please,” she moans, the slight arch of her back giving him better leverage to pinch her nipples, his fingers playfully tugging them, making her body sway in the swing.

“Oh, look at that,” he murmurs, his voice barely reaching her ears as he repeats the action, the movement of her body bringing her closer to his, letting her feel his growing erection. “We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart.”

She’s quick to nod in agreement, not giving him any reason to slow down or stop, waiting with baited breath as goosebumps cover her skin. He’s barely touched her and she’s on edge, her body wound tight, longing for him to do everything he’s been promising for weeks now.

As if reading her mind - or just knowing her as well as he does - one last pull of her nipples and he’s leaning over, crashing his lips on hers, his tongue quickly seeking entrance to deepen the kiss. It sets her off, her hands gripping her binds harder, trying to grind herself against him as she welcomes his mouth on hers.

Bucky doesn’t stop her, moving his hands to the chains to steady himself, allowing her to bring herself pleasure with his body, his hard cock trapped against her ass. Trailing kisses down her neck, biting all the sensitive spots along the way, he makes his way to her heaving chest, capturing her nipple in his mouth, scraping the erect bud with his teeth.

Her needy whines only encourage him to continue with his pace, giving both nipples equal attention, his own hips thrusting gently in time with hers. The need to worship every inch of her has Bucky leaving her breasts as soon as she’s shuddering underneath him, pleading for more, and he works his mouth lower, over her stomach, peppering kisses along her soft rolls and pretty stretch marks.

She’s barely able to focus, her breathing out of control, Bucky reducing her to a whimpering mess, overwhelmed by the loss of his body heat against her pussy. He doesn’t make her wait long, taking the time to angle her into a lower position, giving her a wicked smile the entire time, hinting at what’s to come.

And then she’s shaking with anticipation, watching him kneel between her thighs, his head at the optimal height to return his lips to her body, kissing her inner thighs, nibbling a path towards her pussy.

Expecting Bucky to keep teasing her, the sudden swipe of his tongue along her slick slit has her gasping out his name, wantonly begging him not to stop. She can already feel the pressure building, all of his earlier attention pushing her close to the edge, and now the slow lapping of his tongue tasting every inch of her is enough to have her thighs tensing all over again.

His senses are flooded by her, inhaling the heady scent of her arousal, burying his face between her thighs to fuck her with his tongue, devouring every last bit of her he can while his hands grip her thighs to grind her against his mouth. She’s his favorite meal, enjoying every second he gets to spend right here, his nose pressed against her clit as she chases her pleasure.

Her first orgasm hits her like a force, leaving her breathless, each surge causing her hips to buck against him, the firm hold of her thighs coupled with the binds around her limbs intensifying everything. Bucky gives her no time to relax, spreading her open with his fingers to close his mouth over her clit, moaning at the pulse of the aftershocks still overtaking her.

It’s almost too much, but he’s an expert at her body, knowing exactly how to build her up without pushing her too fast, the pad of his finger teasing her entrance. She’s quick to tell him yes, his muffled growl of approval vibrating against her, letting her welcoming pussy envelope his finger, filling her in one smooth motion.

If Bucky wasn’t so intent on making her come again, he’d praise her, tell her how good she feels, how hard he is from the taste of her. There will be plenty of time for that later, for now he increases the pressure, swirling his tongue over her swollen clit as he crooks his finger inside of her, eager to get her there as quickly as possible.

It doesn’t take long, a few strokes of his thick finger and she’s gone, crying out his name, her hands pulling hard at the straps. He helps her ride out the waves, prolonging her pleasure until it starts to shift into pain, then carefully brings her back down to reality, murmuring soft words of praise he’s not even sure she’s processing yet.

She’s not, but she’s grateful for them, letting out a light groan when Bucky readjusts her again, giving her a chance to stretch her legs, her ankles remaining bound. All the insecurities she thought would still be plaguing her are long gone, allowing Bucky to do with her as he pleases, trusting him to take care of her.

He’s never disappointed her, not when it comes to this, and she gives him a lazy smile as he places a bottle of water in front of her, guiding the straw to her mouth to let her drink as much as she needs. Once he’s satisfied she’s ready to keep going, he readjusts her until she’s laying flat, her arms pulled down to her sides.

She already knows what’s coming, turning her head to look at him as he walks around her, his hard cock making her salivate. There’s nothing she wants more than to bring him as much pleasure as he’s brought her, eagerly opening her mouth, her tongue shamelessly sticking out to greet him.

Bucky’s so proud of her, and wastes no time in telling her, one hand on the back of her head to hold her still, “You’re doing so good, baby.” The moment their eyes meet, his hips jut forward, smearing a drop of precum along the flat of her tongue, an obvious ripple of pleasure rushing over her at the taste of him.

It’s nearly enough to have him losing control, but he takes a steadying breath and instructs her, “Stay just like that for me, let me feel you.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, relaxing her jaw as he finds a shallow rhythm, pushing into her mouth, dragging the head of his cock over her tongue. Fighting the urge to touch him, her binds not providing much leverage anyway, all she can do is lay here for him, letting Bucky use her body, his vibranium hand lifted to hold onto the chain.

The first time he fucked her mouth, she was in complete control, hovering over him, one hand wrapped around his cock so he couldn’t go too deep. He came so fast, and afterwards, she was so turned on, he made her ride his face until she collapsed from exhaustion. Since then, she’s gone out of her way to prove how much she loves sucking his cock, each time encouraging him to take over, set the pace, take his pleasure from her.

It turns her on as much as everything else about him, and even though she wants all the attention to be on him right now, she doesn’t mind when his hand returns to her body, his long fingers wrapping around her throat before sliding lower, scratching his blunt nails between her breasts.

She’s so focused on the feel of his thick cock stretching her mouth, Bucky taking his time to work up to a faster pace, that she doesn’t even realize there’s a toy in his hand, the looped handle of the vibrator resting on his thumb. The only warning that comes is the faint click and soft buzzing, his hips pausing as the vibrations come into contact with her nipple.

Her loud moans only increase when he starts moving again, fucking her mouth deeper, forcing her to breathe out of her nose as her lips close around him. Careful not to take it too far, he splits his attention between her face and her body, slipping the vibrator down to tease between her thighs, the momentary tensing lasting for barely a second until she’s relaxing for him.

“Good girl,” he breathes, taking hold of the back of her head with his metal hand to steady her in order to bring them both as much pleasure as he can, pressing the toy harder against her clit. “Taking my cock so well, like you were made for me, ya know that?”

His words have the desired effect and she whines around his cock, wanting him closer, desperate for him to go faster, each thrust of his hips making her entire body tingle. There’s nothing like this feeling, being completely at his mercy, helpless to do anything but take what he’s giving her, the vulnerability of it all sending her further towards the peak.

Taking the hint, Bucky speeds up, groaning at the tight heat of her throat surrounding him, the sound of her gagging triggering his primal side. The side she empowers him to explore in the safety of their relationship.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his palm holding the toy against her, rubbing her clit in a familiar rhythm, his fingertips dipping between her folds to tease her entrance. “You love choking on my cock, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

Her answer is another exquisite gag around his sensitive head and he pulls back long enough to let her take a deep breath, then he’s resuming the pace, telling her, “Gonna keep fucking this perfect mouth until you come for me again.”

It’s going to happen, the familiar tingle building, the strong vibrations pulsing through her sensitive clit making her see stars. She’s enjoying herself too much to just let go yet, welcoming several more thrusts of his cock, the few tears spilling down her cheeks mixing with her saliva as he fucks her throat.

Bucky knows what she’s doing, and as much as he loves when she communicates what she wants, he’s more than happy to help her remember she’s not in control tonight. With an impatient growl, he tightens his grip on her head, and pushes himself deeper, forcing her throat to tense around his cock. “Ya gotta come baby, or I'm not gonna stop.”

The tension spreads to the rest of her body, leaving no doubt that this is exactly what she wants, the roughness of his actions pushing her into another earth-shattering orgasm. He pulls out at the last second, almost coming himself, a string of saliva connecting them for a brief moment as she cries out from the onslaught of pleasure overloading her senses.

Bucky's quick to comfort her, crouching down to talk her through it, his hands stroking across her belly, the toy tossed aside. “I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You did so good for me. I love you so much.”

She can’t speak; she’s barely able to string a coherent thought together, her body trembling and her heart racing, pleasure still coursing through her. Bucky's presence, as always, soothes her, allows her to come down at her own pace without thinking about what’s coming next.

Her only priority is to bask in the experience he's providing her, his constant touch keeping her present, reminding her there's no rush. He finds pleasure in taking care of her, in whatever form that takes.

When the aftershocks fade, and she starts to come back to him, only then does he move, taking the time to clean her up, wiping away all evidence of her enthusiastic blowjob, Bucky murmuring more words of praise and appreciation.

Another sip of much-needed water and she finds her barings, her words slowly returning to her so she can voice her own gratitude. He might have trouble believing it, but he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her and she’ll take every opportunity to remind him.

Bucky’s soft smile conveys more than he’s capable of vocalizing, and it’s more than enough for her, his silence never bothering her. Smiling adoringly up at him, she watches him walk around her suspended body, his fingers trailing over her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, reigniting the flames of her arousal.

Despite all the pleasure he’s already brought her, her body craves more, desperate to feel him, to have him quell the ache building inside of her, in the way only he can. An exhale of his name, followed by a soft, breathless whisper of ‘please’ and he’s touching more of her, his unhurried actions speaking before he does, causing her to shift and let out a needy whine.

“Shh,” Bucky soothes, kissing his way up her body until he’s leaning over her, his metal hand gripping one of the chains to steady himself, his lips seeking out hers. She barely lets him kiss her, her tongue teasing over his before she’s turning her head to repeat herself, her warm breath ghosting over his ear, reinforcing how much she needs him to fuck her.

He almost throws caution to the wind, sliding his hand down to grip her hip and pull her pliant body against his, her hot, slick sex inviting him to bury himself inside of her. It’s all he wants, to lose himself in her, to give her everything she could possibly ask for. It just isn’t an option right now.

Encouraging her to grind against him, he nuzzles her cheek, breathing heavily as he murmurs, “I know, baby, I know.” It pains him to make her wait, her yearning pleas nearly breaking him, his own body fighting for control, his cock throbbing against her ass, leaking precum.

Somehow finding the resolve to resist her, Bucky maintains contact, guiding her movements against him, his ears trained on her uneven breathes as he tells her, “I’m gonna fuck you, sweetheart, I promise, but I need you to give me a minute, okay?”

Interrupting her before she can start to argue, he pulls back to meet her gaze, giving her an affectionate smile, trying to ease her worry. “You’re doing so good for me,” he assures her, twinges of a playful grin creeping up when she lets out an exasperated sigh, her brow furrowing with uncertainty.

“You are, doll,” he says, dipping his head to kiss her neck, relishing the sounds he brings out of her with a simple touch. “In fact, you were so good you almost made me come down your throat.”

Her body reacts to his words, her hips lifting to seek more friction, shamelessly grinding herself against his pelvis, her hands tugging hard at her binds. “Oh god,” she breathes, “Bucky, please.” She's so turned on, her wetness seeping down between her ass cheeks, her tense thighs shaking with anticipation, unable to focus on anything except how empty she feels.

The next words out of his mouth do nothing to alleviate the burning desire threatening to make her lose her mind, Bucky growling, “Your mouth felt so good, baby, you were so fucking perfect.” Almost on the verge of tears, her hips buck, his next confession only adding to her desperation, “So, as much as I wanna be buried inside you, if I were to start fucking you right now, it’d be over a lot quicker than I’d like to admit.”

Giving her no chance to object, his metal hand cradles her head, pulling her into a passionate kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. She’s quick to comply, understanding flowing between them, Bucky’s fear of disappointing her evident, causing her to finally relent, trusting him to take care of her.

There might not be anything else that can truly scratch this particular itch, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have fun trying, Bucky wasting no time in making a short trip to the bed to grab a toy. On his way back, he brings the ottoman, grinning at her as he takes a seat right between her spread thighs, his shoulders level with her body, giving him access to every single inch of her.

A flush spreads across her skin, her body angled enough to let her watch Bucky settle in for the show, the curved vibrator already turned on and teasing along the back of her thigh. He’s giving her time to withdraw her consent, as if that’s even an option for her right now, her entire body on edge, waiting for him to take pity on her.

If it were any other time, this might be too much, her insecurities whispering in the back of her mind, attempting to ruin the moment. It wouldn’t be the first time, and Bucky would gladly help her through it, never shying away from telling her how hot she is, how he can never get enough of her.

It’s not necessary this time, no matter how vulnerable and on display she feels, Bucky’s metal hand stroking along her belly, causing her to sway towards him. Whatever he’s planning, she’ll accept without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to be completely at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long, Bucky ducking his head to follow the trail of the vibrations, nipping and licking a path to her dripping pussy, leaving her panting for more. And the moment she’s nodding her head, whispering, “yes, please, oh god,” in a rush of a heavy exhale, he’s sliding the tip of the toy through her wetness, rewarding her.

“Good girl,” he praises, his words muffled against a particularly sensitive spot of her thigh, her appreciative whine only growing when he presses against her soaked entrance, telling him everything he needs to know. And now that Bucky’s here, the toy meeting no resistance, he can’t resist surging forward, refusing to tease her anymore, filling her as his teeth sink into the flesh of her trembling thigh.

The exquisite pleasure has her crying out, her knuckles turning white from her strained grip on the padded chains, Bucky’s vibranium hand firmly pressed against her stomach to keep her in place as he starts to fuck her with hard, deep strokes.

Her bound ankles give her no leverage, increasing the helpless feeling, and she falls headfirst into it, each thrust eliciting another noise of pleasure, every breathy utterance growing more incoherent. Her entire focus is narrowed down to him and the indescribable pleasure he’s bringing her, Bucky perfecting the speed and rhythm to have the pressure building almost too quickly.

No part of her feels compelled to fight it, her head thrown back, eyes shut tight, her heart pounding in her ears as she welcomes everything he gives her. Bucky proving once again he can read her body like an open book, each subtle gasp or slight tension guiding him to keep the toy hitting that spot deep inside of her that makes her lose her breath.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his feet finding purchase against the carpet as he grabs hold of her soft stomach, swinging her body in time with his thrusts, her wetness coating his hand, the beautiful sight causing his cock to pulse. “Fuck. Love watching you like this. Want you to come again for me, can you do that, baby?”

The question triggers another mind-numbing orgasm, her muscles growing taut and her mouth opens in a silent scream, Bucky’s eyes trained on the incredible image, watching her lose control. All because of him. The hands that were once used as a weapon are now used to bring nothing but pleasure to the most important person in his life.

It’s nearly enough to have him coming right along with her, the emotion threatening to lock up his voice, forcing him to power through, needing her to hear his familiar stream of praise and love. He’ll never leave her wanting, not during such a time of need, Bucky’s only priority to keep her in that headspace she craves so much.

Where nothing exists but the two of them and the euphoria coursing through her, her mind forgetting everything else. All the normal worries and anxieties are long gone. Replaced by a tingly buzz, a high that she’s only ever chased with him.

Bucky’s far from done with her, his own need to feel her wrapped around him pushed to the side, instead focusing on grinding the toy deep inside of her, addicted to the way she reacts. Her body is still pulsing with aftershocks, her shuddering breaths signaling how far her limits are being pushed, her wrists tugging at her binds, and other than her soft, gasping whimpers, she makes no objections.

She’s not too far gone that she wouldn’t tell him to stop if she needed to, Bucky taking that as his signal to keep going, turning the vibrations up and angling the toy to rub hard along her front wall. It brings out the expected reaction, her eyes rolling back and her toes curling, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

“You’re so perfect, doll, ya know that?” Not waiting for an answer, he slides his left hand down between her thighs to apply pressure to her clit, a wave of pleasure washing over him to match the one causing her body to buck. “I swear you were made for me,” he continues, groaning when she starts to squirt for him. “I’ll never get enough of you. Not in a million fucking years.”

She loses track of everything except the overwhelming pressure building, Bucky’s vibranium palm pressed against her clit almost too much, the tension in her lower stomach on the verge of causing cramps. Bucky’s barely moving the toy, but each hard grind against her g-spot is making her squirt, another orgasm soon to come barreling down on her.

It feels too soon, her body practically still recovering from the last one, and it’s not long before she’s whispering his name, her head lolling on the headrest, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. No change in pace comes, Bucky softly shushing her, telling her, “It’s okay, baby, you’re doing so good for me. Wanna watch you come one more time, can you do that for me?”

Incapable of nodding her head, she whines his name, followed by the soft whisper of ‘yes’, the word barely audible. There’s no doubt Bucky hears her, his head dipping to kiss the back of her thigh, muttering more praise and affirmations in response, encouraging her to let go, to let him witness her fall apart one more time.

“As soon as you do, I‘m gonna fuck you sweetheart,” he promises, a grin spreading across his features when she resumes her grip on the chains, seeing the desperation clearly fueling her actions. His consistent movements never cease, using the toy to drive her higher, providing her with exactly what he knows will push her over the edge. “That’s right, baby. All ya gotta do is come for me, show me how much you want my cock buried inside this perfect pussy.”

A few more controlled thrusts and she has no choice but to give in, her back arching as the intense orgasm takes control, sparks of electric pleasure radiating from her core. Bucky works her through it, quickly standing up, kicking the ottoman out of the way in order to reach higher up her body, holding onto her forearm while he slowly fucks through each wave with the toy, stopping only once he’s sure she’s had enough.

It takes her longer to recover this time, Bucky taking the time to work out any kinks in her muscles, letting her stretch her limbs within the confines of her binds. He’s going to keep his word, planning to fuck her until she’s completely satiated. But, first he has to ensure he hasn’t pushed her too hard, using the opportunity to wipe away the sweat glistening on her skin and give them both more water.

As grateful as she is for the pause, she’s more than eager to keep going, ready to hold him to his promise. There’s no need for more begging - a momentary interlude so Bucky can readjust her position and then he’s exactly where he belongs, his hard cock perfectly aligned with her swollen pussy.

The determined look on his face speaks volumes, coaxing her further into submission, her limbs relaxed, her breathing slow and even. There’s no rushing him, Bucky’s hands caressing her everywhere, languid movements across her skin, fingertips ghosting over her nipples, palms stroking down her torso.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze settling on hers, an ardent smile lighting up his face. “I’m so grateful to call you mine.”

Words fail her, warmth spreading across her skin, his praise stirring up a smile of her own, conveying how much she loves and appreciates him. Nothing will ever compare to the connection they share, the incredible, undeniable physical chemistry that flows between them.

They’re compatible in all the ways that matter, understanding each other on a level neither ever thought they’d have the privilege of experiencing. It allows them both to be present, her submissive nature enticing Bucky to fully embrace the power of being in complete control of the woman he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.

Hooking her right leg over his vibranium arm, he takes hold of his thick shaft with his free hand and guides the tip of his cock to her slit, teasing her with slow movements, gathering her wetness as he listens to her breath hitch. She’s unable to stop the subconscious shifting of her hips, or the trembling of her thighs, but her arms remain slack, her trusting gaze causing his own heart to flutter.

His mind stays clear, intent on making this an unforgettable first time in their new swing, and as he slips just the head of his cock into her welcoming pussy, he lets out a heavy breath, asking her, “Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” A lazy nod of her head and he’s following up with, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck this pussy however I want, baby?”

Managing to verbalize her consent, she whispers a soft, “please” and offers another nod, her eyes fluttering as his cock starts to fill her, Bucky fucking her with just the first inch. When she makes no other attempt to move, her supported body relaxed, he’s reached his limit, finally giving in to the intense need to have her wrapped around him.

Without warning, he hooks her other leg over his right arm and slams home, burying himself balls-deep in one swift movement, the tight, wet heat of her pussy nearly sending him spiraling out of control. Her reaction does little to help him maintain that control, her head thrown back, her strangled cry shooting pleasure straight up his spine, and for a brief moment, all he can do is grip the top of her thighs, grinding hard against her.

“Fuck,” he exhales, quickly shaking his head to gather his composure. “You feel so good, doll, wanna stay inside you forever.” He’ll definitely come if he does and slowly retreats, pulling his hips back until just the head of his cock rests within her, her walls pulsing in an attempt to lure him back.

Bucky sets an agonizingly slow pace, pausing long enough to allow her to relax, then thrusting forward, filling her, the intoxicating noises spilling out of her spurring him on. Her breathless whines, her needy whimpers, her shuddering pleas as she starts to beg him to fuck her faster each time he bottoms out. It’s too addicting to ignore, pushing him to draw more sounds out of her.

Her crying chants of “please” get louder each time he withdraws, Bucky torturously dragging his cock along her slick walls, teasing her with possibilities, only to keep the same pace, giving her no reprieve. Behind the tingling promise of pleasure, the building frustration starts to grow to unbearable heights, her brow furrowing, her fingers tightening their hold on her binds, tears pricking her eyes.

On the next thrust, his loud groan of pleasure reaching her ears, her endless begging turns to crying, the shake of her head telling him she’s reached her limit before she can even get the words out. “I can’t… Bucky… please, I can’t.”

“Shh,” he whispers, providing comfort with his touch, caressing the back of her thighs, encouraging her to ease her legs back. “I know, baby, you’re doing so good, just relax for me.”

The temptation to challenge him dies on her tongue and she flops her head back, begrudgingly giving in to his request, grateful to at least still have him buried deep inside of her. Not wanting to give him a reason to change his plans, she patiently watches him reach forward to readjust the chains once again, her skin flushing as he supplies a steady stream of praise.

The new position has her upper body slightly elevated, and soon he’s guiding her feet, placing them flat against his chest, offering her leverage for what feels like the first time all night. She knows better than to start moving, and the delighted grin suddenly gracing his face tells her she’s choosing the right option.

“Oh, good girl,” he growls, his hips twitching, pulling more moans out of both of them. “I’m so fucking proud of you, baby. Now, do me a favor and push against me.”

She obeys immediately, following his instructions until just the head of his cock rests inside of her, pausing without needing to be told, eagerly awaiting his next command. There’s no relaxing at this point, her unfurled legs tense with anticipation, her hands wrapped around the chains, her feet trembling against Bucky’s solid chest.

“That’s it,” he nods, gripping her ankles right below her binds, holding her tight against him, “fuck, you’re perfect.” A quiet second to appreciate the breathtaking vision laid out before him, steeling himself for what’s to come, and then he’s ordering her to drop, his resolve almost crumbling when she complies without hesitation, impaling herself on his cock.

The wide-eyed, hopeful look on her face does wonders for his ego, as does her familiar cry of pleasure filling his ears, Bucky’s body already aching to take over, fuck her until she’s screaming for him. He wants this more though, to watch her pleasure herself, to prove how much she wants him before he takes back control.

A short pause, unable to resist teasing her for just a moment longer, and then he’s nodding his head, giving her permission, planting his feet for stability as she starts to move, pushing against his chest. This time, she leaves almost half of his length inside of her before she’s dropping again, using the momentum of her swinging body to fuck herself.

“Oh shit, look at you,” Bucky grunts, his gaze torn between her gorgeous curves and his cock disappearing over and over, evidence of her arousal coating his shaft. “My desperate, needy girl. Taking my cock so well. Feels so fucking good, baby.”

His words spur her on, the powerful exhilaration coursing through her driving her to pick up speed, intent on bringing them both as much pleasure as possible. Incoherent words escape between heavy grunts, her body swaying in time with her thrusts, her eyes locked on Bucky’s intense, lust-filled stare.

The vulnerability she feels from Bucky watching every single inch of her - her jiggling thighs and tummy, her bouncing tits, her straining arms - would usually be enough to have her wanting to hide parts of herself, but tonight it triggers something else inside of her. A strange bout of confidence that has her moaning his name, professing her love for him as she works her body to its limit.

Bucky’s own moan blends with hers, his fingers digging into her ankles as he lets out a breathless grunt of her name. “Fuck, I love you, so fucking much.” The obvious tension in her legs grows and soon he’s letting out another heavy breath to ask her, “Tell me what you need, baby, you need me to fuck you now? Show you just how much I love you?”

All he needs is a nod of her head and he’s taking over, grabbing her legs as her pussy flutters, her velvety walls encouraging his thrusts. Watching her intently, Bucky mirrors the rhythm she had just set, holding her calves against his shoulders in order to force her body to meet his pistoning hips, each stroke of his cock making her toes curl.

He can already feel his own orgasm building, his normal stamina being tested from sharing this new, profound experience with her, the sight of her completely at his mercy being seared into his brain. New fuel for his masturbatory fantasies for years to come.

Determined to feel her come first, Bucky keeps talking to her, telling her how hot she is, how much he loves fucking her, how incredible she feels wrapped around him. Reminding her that she’s his and he’s never letting her go. “Gonna get to keep fucking this pussy forever, sweetheart. Whenever I fucking want, won’t I?”

Her response comes out as a harsh whine, her agreement evident in the way she cries out his name, her body growing taut, his cock hitting that spot deep inside of her that’s sure to send her flying. All it takes is a few more powerful thrusts, Bucky telling her to let go, and she’s soaring, coming harder than she has all night, her pussy nearly pushing him out from the intense waves.

It proves too much for him, his hips faltering in his attempt to fuck her through it, Bucky managing to bury himself as deep as he can, trying to prolong her pleasure with short thrusts as she milks him dry. This wasn’t at all how he planned tonight to end, already craving to feel her come around him again, her trembling body inviting him to wrap her legs around his waist.

She welcomes the sudden weight of him, their mouths crashing together in a heated kiss, her bound limbs meeting resistance in her effort to cling to him, her brain practically mush, her body still pulsing with aftershocks. She’s not even aware she’s still moving against him, confusion settling in when his softening cock begins to slip out of her, the loss of their physical connection causing her to whimper against his lips.

Another hungry kiss and then he’s reassuring her, his voice rough with desire, “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, baby.” He doesn’t leave her empty for long, his hand sliding between their bodies to fill her with two fingers, her pussy slick with their combined fluids. “Oh fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, leaning up to watch her, her back arching from the sudden pressure along her front wall.

He leaves her speechless again, her eyes rolling back, her hands trembling around the chains, his expert touch making it impossible to focus. Not that she needs to, Bucky talking her through it, his free hand sliding over her shuddering body, the smooth metal soon wrapping around her throat as he starts to fuck her harder.

“Love feeling you like this, doll,” he tells her, his heavy breaths matching hers, “your pussy full of my cum, and still desperate for more.” All she can do is nod her head, her words trapped in her throat, incoherent whines escaping with each thrust of his fingers. “Can’t get enough of me, can you, baby? Taking everything I give you like the good girl you are.”

Watching her closely, Bucky slowly adds his index finger, his three thick digits filling and stretching her, his leaking cum allowing him deep inside. She’s so tight, her walls clenching, her breaths turning to pants, but there’s no hint of reluctance, her gasps and whimpers telling him all he needs to know.

With his vibranium hand wrapped around her throat, his thumb pressed against her pulse point, he maintains a steady pace, witnessing all the telltale signs of how close he already has her to coming again. It’s exactly what he wants, to make her lose control, over and over again, until she can’t handle anymore.

Arousal already has his cock twitching again, her beautiful noises and unfiltered reactions triggering his need for more. To feel as much of her as he can. The slowing of his fingers has her eyes fluttering open, her mouth parting, her obvious discontent fading when she finds him smiling down at her.

His intentions become clear the moment his pinkie joins the rest of his slick fingers, the sudden tension rolling through her body giving him pause. But then she’s nodding her head, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she relaxes and Bucky starts slowly, sliding his fingers in centimeters at time, letting her adjust to the increasing fullness.

“That’s it,” he encourages her, “doing so good for me. Just breathe and let me in, baby.”

He’s in awe of her, how readily she gives herself to him, trusting him to take care of her, to never steer her wrong. It’s a responsibility he wasn’t sure he’d ever be comfortable taking on, and now he can’t ever imagine not having this with her. Owning every single part of her heart, mind, and body.

Her greedy pussy swallows his fingers up to his knuckles, Bucky refraining from pushing her limits any further, his slow, hard thrusts causing her to squirt and cry out his name. His hand tightens around her throat, holding her down against the swing and he growls her name in response, asking her, “Gonna come for me again, aren’t you, sweetheart? With my fingers fucking my cum back inside of you. Such a good fucking girl.”

She nearly passes out this time, her vision going white, her blood pounding in her ears, her breath caught in her lungs as her limbs go taut, pulling hard at her binds. She vaguely hears Bucky talking to her, no doubt praising her, telling her how much he loves, but she’s too far gone, her world spinning for several glorious seconds.

His firm touches bring her back to reality, the contrast of his metal hand on her soft, flushed skin eliciting a moan of pleasure, her noises only getting louder when he leaves her empty. There’s a soft whine from the loss of him, but it’s quickly replaced by one of excitement as she watches him wrap his cum-slick hand around his hard cock.

Even as he starts to stroke himself, he’s checking in with her, asking if she needs a break, gladly offering her the world. All she wants is him, her eyes drawn to his hand, the sight of him pleasuring himself again sending tingles spreading across her skin.

Once he’s sure she’s okay to keep going, he’s readjusting the chains with his left hand, lowering her upper body to level position and pushing her legs back so she’s spread wide. The entire time, he never stops touching himself and it drives her crazy with lust, wanting him back inside of her, her pussy pulsing with anticipation.

Bucky has other ideas though, giving her a playful wink before he’s crouching down to taste her, his tongue licking up their cum coating her swollen flesh, the same combination of fluids he’s using to to jerk himself off. It sends a shock of pleasure straight to his cock, the vibrations of his moan from the unique flavor making her twitch, almost overstimulated.

He takes pity on her, dragging the tip of his tongue through her folds, licking her from her sensitive clit, all the way down to her ass, his ears perking at her soft, breathy moans. He repeats the action, the flat of his tongue tasting every delicious inch of her, drawing more encouraging noises, the subtle signs telling him exactly what she’s craving.

Taking his time, Bucky’s attention hovers around her clit before dipping lower, placing open mouth kisses along each side of her spread pussy, then each supple cheek, working his way towards her puckered hole. One slow swirl of his tongue and she’s whispering his name, telling him yes, the simple word causing him to grip the base of his cock, pleasure shooting straight up his spine.

He probes her tight passage with the tip of his tongue, his metal fingers pressing against the top of her mound, holding her place, listening to her appreciative sounds getting louder. Her skin is already slick with her wetness, but Bucky adds more saliva, the increased lubrication allowing him to push deeper, his tongue spearing her ass with slow, teasing thrusts.

Using the swing to his advantage, his fingers dig into her flesh to pull her towards his mouth, essentially causing her to ride his tongue, his palm applying pressure to her clit. With the sounds she’s making, he briefly wonders if he can make her come like this, but then she’s arching her back, her legs tensing in an attempt to pull him deeper, her soft whimpering of ‘please’ changing his plans.

A break is warranted, Bucky taking just a minute to gather the necessary items, pausing once again to brush her hair out of her face and get her more comfortable. Returning to his rightful place between her thighs, he waits patiently for her to meet his gaze, her eager look enough to have him bringing the flared toy, already slick with copious amounts of lube, to rest between her ass cheeks.

Even though her need is written all over her face, Bucky requires more, telling her, “I need your words, sweetheart. Tell me you want this.” At first, all she can offer is a nod of her head, her voice seeming to fail her, her hips twitching, grinding against the tip of the toy.

He’s patient, sliding his left hand along her torso, fingers ghosting over her nipples, drawing heavier breaths out of her. Enticing her with a teasing probe, she finally exhales harshly, whispering, “Yes, please, fuck my ass.”

A smile spreads across his face and the praise of, “good girl” fills her ears as he presses the toy deeper, his careful movements only seeming to add to her desperation, her body craving more. Bucky doesn’t make her ask this time, his gaze meeting hers as he starts to fuck her slowly, sliding deeper with twisting motions, ensuring the lube provides smooth movements.

When his hand returns to her clit, she can already feel the familiar pressure building, each thrust driving her higher, her pussy pulsing, clenching around nothing, triggering the need to have him inside of her again. She doesn’t immediately vocalize it, her mind and body overwhelmed, her head pressing hard against the headrest, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

Bucky refuses to allow it though, recognizing the look on her face, forcing her to talk, asking her what she wants. It feels almost impossible to speak, the rhythm of the toy and his consistent touch against her clit sending sparks of pleasure throughout her entire body, and yet, through the haze of it all, she wants to please him.

Forcing the words out between shuddering breaths, she begs him to fuck her, Bucky’s response of, “I am fucking you, baby,” ripping a loud, desperate whine out of her.

“Please,” she manages, her thighs shaking, her nerves on edge, his feigned ignorance increasing her frustration.

A swipe of his thumb over her clit and then he’s dipping lower, circling her soaked entrance, her walls trying to draw him in. He resists the urge, instead sliding the toy deep inside her ass as he asks, “Is that what my dirty girl needs? To have both holes filled?” A pleading yes, and Bucky can’t resist continuing, “Yeah, baby? You need my cock in your tight pussy while this toy fucks your ass?”

The tears pricking her eyes break his resolve and he nods, his reverent touch moving back up her body, his fingers splayed across her chest as he steps forward, the head of his cock seeking out her entrance. Both hands grip her breasts and he presses forward, slipping deep inside her waiting pussy, his balls grinding the base of the toy resting in her ass.

Everything else falls away, Bucky’s focus lasered in on her, all his senses consumed by the ecstasy she brings, the feeling she evokes unlike anything he’s ever experienced. He’ll never get enough of her and as he starts to piston his hips, his hands cupping her large tits, pulling her body onto his cock, his only thought is to make her come again.

It doesn’t take long, Bucky angling his thrusts to grind hard against her gspot, his balls slapping against her ass, pressing the toy deep with each movement. Despite his own building pleasure, his words of praise come easy, his rough voice ordering her to come for him, his own desperation to feel her lose control pushing her over the edge, her bucking hips almost pushing him out.

A quick grab of her thighs and he’s forcing his cock to stay inside her spasming pussy, fucking her through the intense waves, his thrusts slowing, but never stopping. Bucky doesn’t give her a chance to come down from the onslaught of pleasure, keeping one arm around her quivering thigh, his other hand moves back to her clit, applying pressure as he tells her to give him one more.

She wants to - she wants to give him everything he asks for - but she’s reaching her limit, her body growing sore, sure to have her feeling the aftereffects of their session well into tomorrow. Her mouth opens to voice her uncertainty, the words, “I can’t” tumbling out even as Bucky starts to move faster, his heavy pants and grunts of pleasure making her squirt again.

He’s quick to disagree with her assessment, telling her, “Yes, you can. You’re gonna come all over my cock one more time, sweetheart, and then you know where I’m gonna come?”

There’s nothing else left for her to give, unable to focus long on anything other than the euphoria she’s chasing despite how tired she is. Bucky’s happy to keep talking to her even when she’s unable to respond, his words guiding her to where he needs her.

“As soon you come, I’m gonna tilt your head back and I’m gonna fuck your mouth, baby.” It’s nearly enough to make her lose control, her loud cry almost drowning out his next words, “Mmhmm, gonna fuck your mouth until I come down your throat.”

They’re both teetering on the edge of their final orgasms, Bucky’s voice rough with arousal, her fluttering walls inviting him to let go, to fill her once more with his seed. He holds back, his thrusts never ceasing, fucking her hard and fast, each movement grinding the toy deep in her ass, the exquisite noises she’s making telling him he’s on the right path.

“You love that idea, don’t ya, baby? Love taking my cock any way I give it to you, my beautiful, needy slut, just can’t get enough.”

A strangled cry and she comes for him, her tense limbs nearly breaking her binds, her back bowing, a loud scream of pleasure that pushes Bucky past his own limits. With a roar, he comes with her, the intensity blinding him, both hands now gripping her waist, forcing her onto his cock as he fucks them through it, trying to prolong everything for just a few moments longer.

Her tears of elation trigger his own, his lashes wet as he falls against her, the swing supporting his added weight, Bucky’s mouth seeking out hers. Making quick work of her binds, he’s soon guiding her limbs around his body, holding her tight against him, his cock still buried deep inside of her, her aftershocks soon causing him to slip out.

The loss is felt, but it’s easily overlooked, Bucky using the opportunity to tenderly remove the flared toy from her trembling body, soothing her with soft words and peppered kisses along her jaw. He’s rendered her speechless again, soft utterances of ‘oh my god’ and ‘holy shit’ escaping between her panting breaths.

He’s only slightly better off, eternally grateful for his enhanced abilities helping him recover quicker, allowing him to tend to her. He’ll stay exactly where he is, for however long she needs, murmuring sweet nothings and soft praises, thanking her for being his. For loving him, as flawed as he is.

Eventually they make it to the bathroom, Bucky effortlessly carrying her, assisting her with cleaning up, the relaxing spray of the shower bringing her fully back to him. They remain locked in an embrace, his arms refusing to let her go the entire time, holding her weakened body against his during their brief shower.

There’s more to do, messes to clean up, things to put away, but for now, all that matters is the satiated woman pressed against him. A newly familiar sense of peace envelops Bucky, the warmth of genuine happiness settling over him, giving him a slight reprieve from the lingering ghosts of his past.

He’ll never be able to fully convey how much she truly means to him, but he’ll sure as hell spend the rest of his life trying.

---------------------------

The Bet

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

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galaxiasgreen · 4 months ago

Text

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 5.4k words]

Never before had he really met a Muggle-born. He had no idea how naïve they were. How unprepared. Certainly, his family said they, and Muggles in general, were inferior, stupid, barely worthy to be at Hogwarts. Barely worth existing. But you weren't any of those things. You were just afraid.

In which, against the wishes of his staunchly pure-blood supremacist family, Ominis Gaunt befriends you, a naive Muggle-born Hufflepuff, and his life inexplicably changes.

Or, what happens when a pure-blood from an anti-Muggle family falls in love with a Muggle-born?

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant.

[MASTERLIST][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

TW: familial abuse, blood/ injury, torture, fantasy prejudice/ racism.

1: Strawberry Laces

He calls you Gibberish, because sometimes that's all you speak.

In first year, Ominis remembers crossing your path after the Sorting ceremony. You, a shaky little Muggle-born, near no knowledge of the magical world and its machinations, and the depths of its cruelty. You, who only enjoyed wonder in everything: every moving painting, the candles that floated untethered, and the way the air hummed with something else, something ethereal. He remembers hearing your distinctive voice in the foyer outside the Great Hall.

He remembers how you, somehow, managed to get lost.

Your upbeat curiosity pealed like a bell amongst the sombre tension of the first-year Slytherins. For some reason, your hair is what Ominis remembers best. Later he would find out it was thick, bouncy wild curls pinched into two pigtails at the side of your head, but the first thing he recalls is the smell, faintly of something saccharine.

"You're in the wrong place."

A pause, presumably as you realised he was addressing you. "Aren't we going to the form rooms?" you asked, that high-pitched voice like birdsong at dawn. It was hard to forget, given the nervous squeal you made when you were called up to be Sorted. It was already ingrained into his head.

"You're meant to be going to the Hufflepuff common room," he said, frowning. Form. What was a form? He pointed his wand at the Hufflepuffs heading the other way through the hall. "Your house is over that way."

"Oh!" You giggled, a sickly sweet noise, and headed over. "Thanks!"

How did you even get them mixed up? Ominis still doesn't know. He didn't think about you again until the next day, when term officially began Charms. By chance, he was seated next to you. That smell again, that voice.

"Have no fear, Master Gaunt," cheered Professor Ronen, "I will be giving you more practical assignments, so you don't have as much writing to do."

That was some consolation, he supposed. Practical assignments played to his best strengths.

When Ronen moved on to check Adelaide's technique, Ominis heard your chair squeak. Heard the hiss of your clothes as you peered over. Something rattled on your face – glasses.

"It's... Ominis, right?"

He pursed his lips, displeased at the interruption. "Can I help you?"

"You're an actual wizard?"

"... What?"

"I mean, you know, you were born into this magic thing."

A pure-blood, is what you meant. "Yes. What of it?"

"That's great, because I just wanted to know... erm... which way around does the wand go?"

That had to be a joke. "You can't be serious."

"S-Sorry, I swear I'm not pulling your leg." Pulling your leg? You laughed nervously. "It's just— my wand is a little crooked, and it doesn't have a handle, like yours— so I don't actually know if I'm holding it the right way up or not, and I don't want to blast myself in the face."

A wave of that saccharine soap again. Ominis wrinkled his nose and continued practicing Wingardium Leviosa. Swish and flick. "Can you really not tell?"

"No..."

You sounded genuine. Not joking.

Hmm. Never before had he really met a Muggle-born. He had no idea how naïve they were. How unprepared. Certainly, his family said they, and Muggles in general, were inferior, stupid, barely worthy to be at Hogwarts. Barely worth existing. But you weren't any of those things.

You were just afraid.

"It's the tapered point that's the end."

"They're both thin."

"Let me feel it."

You hesitated. "Feel— it?"

"Well I can't look at it, can I?"

Another moment of hesitation. An intake of breath.

"Oh!" You nearly blew out his eardrums. "Sorry. You're blind!"

"Well spotted."

"I didn't notice."

"I figured."

You made an indignant noise and handed it over. His senses immediately flooded. It was an intimate sensation, to hold someone else's wand, especially that of a near-stranger. To feel the springy wood beneath his fingertips, the coarse grains of the wood. A light wood, airy. He was no expert on wands, and certainly no Ollivander, but he'd been touching and feeling things long enough to recognise details most sighted people would miss.

Yes, it was crooked, an odd shape for an odd person. He drew his thumb up the wand's janky spine.

"That's the top." He held the handle and offered it back to you. "There."

"Brilliant. Okay." You took the wand back. Cleared your throat. "Here goes then. Wingardium Leviosa!"

Something shifted beside him. A soft fabric drew up against his leg, raising higher and higher, past his head—

"Wait," Ominis spluttered, "is that my satchel?"

"It didn't— oh!" Panic fluttered through you. "No, no, no! Stop, wand! Un-Wingardium Leviosa! Erm, Spellus Stoppus?"

He didn't know how you did it, but even when he told you the right orientation, still you managed to point it the wrong way, the tip facing the bag by his chair, and Professor Ronen had to instruct you on the correct way by using chalk to mark the right end – after he got Ominis' bag down from the ceiling.

There are so many things he still doesn't understand about you.

Weeks into first year, when he'd learnt to adapt to your strange, Muggle quirks, your funny language and unwittingly explosive efforts in other classes, the two of you were doing homework on the lawn with Ominis' Slytherin dormmate, Sebastian Sallow. Sebastian thought you odd, too, but he had more exposure to Muggles than Ominis did – certainly more than the anti-Muggle disdain he received at home – and quickly warmed to your jolly attitude.

"It's strange. My dad hears all the confectionary chatter from America. Apparently this thing called peanut butter is making waves over there now." You grounded the sugar quill with your teeth – Ominis could hear it like a second heartbeat. "Doesn't that sound disgusting?"

"It does," marvelled Sebastian. "Butter and peanuts? What a strange combination."

"I know!" You rolled onto your back – and Ominis caught it again. Your scent. So intrinsically tied to you that every fresh wave made him feel comforted somehow. "You can't just put those two things together!"

"Your soap," Ominis blurted, and the conversation paused so abruptly that his cheeks heated. "What is it? It doesn't smell like anything I know."

"Oh, yes." Your voice was contemplative, sheepish as you pushed up your glasses. "I brought it from home. It reminds me of my family. Smells like our confectionary shop."

That didn't answer the question, and by his expression, you knew it.

"It's strawberry laces! You know? They're strawberry-flavoured, and they look like laces..."

"What in Merlin's name is a strawberry lace?"

"It's a type of candy! They're chewy and sweet!"

"Are they laces for your shoes?"

"No! That's just the shape of them."

Sebastian leant over crinkly parchment. "Do you mean red liquorice?"

"Yes!" You belted it so loud Ominis fell back. "Sorry! Sorry, yes. Red liquorice. That's its proper name."

"Then why didn't you call it red liquorice?"

"... Because it's strawberry laces. That's what we call them. It's my favourite treat."

"But that makes no sense! Why not just call it what it is?"

"Is it a Muggle thing?" Sebastian asked.

"No." A beat. "Maybe?"

Ominis scoffed. "You talk so much nonsense I can barely understand you sometimes."

You spat out your tongue. "Oh yeah, Ominis Gaunt? Mister, I Cast Whoopy-Doopy-Goopy to make your Thingimajig Ringadingdong?"

He spluttered, exasperated. "I don't sound like that! That's— that's just gibberish!"

"... Wait, is gibberish an actual language? Because goblins speak Gobbledegook, so..."

Sebastian howled with laughter. Your naivety was kind of adorable.

"The only one who speaks gibberish here," Ominis said, going back to his wandwork, "is you."

"Hmph!" You enunciated your indignation with such purpose. "Then maybe I'm fluent!"

And you were. You still are.

Neither Ominis nor Sebastian let you live it down, and the effects rippled throughout the first years. Sebastian's sister Anne found you adorably strange and joyfully brazen. Your Hufflepuff housemates enjoyed your humour and shenanigans. Even outside of your mismatched little groups, others in the the year, like Amit Thakkar and Garreth Weasley, thought you were a hoot, the silliest Muggle-born they'd ever met. Gibberish was your native language, and they all agreed. Soon everyone gave you the nickname. At one point it became Gibby. You pouted at each mention at first, but you grew fond of it eventually – then wearing it like a badge of honour. You adopted it, made it your own.

And even into second and third year, when the magical world became more familiar, you were Gibby.

Of course, you were never Gibby when Ominis wrote home. You were never anyone. It didn't take Ravenclaw wisdom to clock that his friendship with you was never considered proper. Pure-bloods, you learnt as quickly as he did, were the superior blood-status, and Muggle-borns the dregs left to rot at the bottom of the scummy barrel. That Mudblood was a slur of the lowest calibre. Ominis was shrewd enough to lie by omission in his letters back home, when his parents demanded to know about his friends and alliances. He simply never mentioned you at all, and all your adventures were given to Sebastian.

That didn't stop them from finding out.

"Who is she?"

Father had marched him to his study, made him sit. Even though a fire roared in the hearth, the place was cold, a slick tar against his skin. Even in the plushest chair, a high-back velvet with curling arms, he was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been. Even though he was blind, he could feel his parents' gaze like the tips of a thousand knives, pressed to the soft flesh of his throat.

"She's— no one."

"Don't lie to me," snapped his father. His mother was silent but complicit, by the way she paced from wood to carpet to wood again. "Edwin Malfoy said his son mentioned you frolicking around the school with some Hufflepuff. A Muggle-born."

There was no way he could deny it. Damn Peregrine Malfoy. They weren't in the same year group at school; why did he have to mention you at all? Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut? It had been three years already – what was another four?

Ominis contemplated what to say, urging his fingers to still, his toes to flatten. He could not betray his fear, betray the sudden rising heartbeat, the clamminess of his palms, nor the pure, unadulterated dread that roiled through him.

"It's— it's just Gibby," he forced out as calmly as he could.

"Gibby?" shrilled his mother.

"Not her real name," Ominis said quickly. "It's actually—"

"But she's Muggle-born?" his father demanded.

"Yes, but—"

"Have we taught you nothing, boy? Muggles, and their filthy spawn, are weak. Muggle-born magic is diluted, and therefore they are not worthy to wield it."

His mother was sobbing in the corner, like this extended hand of friendship he'd given to you, this supposed error, was grievous enough to tear a hole through her heart.

"Our bloodline is sacred. We are descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin himself! When you choose to associate with these disgusting Mudbloods," he spat the word, "you are sending a message that these interlopers can take our land, our magic and our privileges. They can encroach on what is rightfully ours. Did you know they used to burn witches? Even though, in every way, we are superior to them?" His father drummed impatient fingers on the marble mantelpiece. Each clack sent more and more terrified shivers down Ominis' spine. "A good thing Noctua went missing. Spending too much time with her addled you. Now we must have a more formal hand in your education."

Ominis didn't know how to respond to that. How could they say that about Aunt Noctua? "What do you—?"

A knock at the door cut through his words – Ominis immediately recognised the knock's low timbre. His older brother. Marvolo. Panic rendered him paralysed.

"Come in," called his father.

Ominis heard his brother's footsteps. Heard the cruelty of his smile.

"Is it time, Father?"

"Yes. Take him downstairs."

Ominis didn't speak. There was no point. Marvolo, of all his older siblings, was the cruellest, an exact replica of their father who despised Muggles and Muggle-borns, despised Noctua, and revered the family name and the bloodline as divine, rather than simply blood and sinew and a surname. His grip on Ominis' shoulder was hard enough to draw blood, curled into the muscle like claws.

They all went downstairs, silent. Ominis had never been to this part of the house before – sometimes, when the moon was highest, when he stowed quietly to the kitchens for a midnight nibble, he heard screaming. At first he thought it his imagination, the night playing tricks on his keen senses.

When he descended into the cellar, he realised for the first time that it was not the night's whims having their fun. The dark, after all, had never been so wicked to him before.

The smell was the first thing that hit him. A strong, tangy scent, coppery and unpleasant. Blood. He couldn't help a sharp intake of breath, which only left the taste on his tongue. The chill was second, as bone-deep as a tundra. By the echo of breath, the ceiling was low and poorly lit, for his father cast a Fire charm at the braziers besides the doorway.

There was a ruffle of cotton. A low murmur. Marvolo's grip ceased, and he roughly shoved Ominis forwards.

"Do you know what's in front of you?"

Tremoring, Ominis reached for his wand. In the time he'd bought it at Ollivander's, it had become something special to him. A way to navigate the castle, yes, but it was much more than that. Almost sentient. It seemed to know how he was feeling and how to react to it, just as it did now, pulsing like a wild heartbeat beneath his fingertips. At eleven he'd been sceptical of the phrase 'the wand chooses the wizard', but now he believed there was truth in it. His wand had shown him that magic was in the air, all around him – all he had to do was draw on it.

He reached out, trying to fit together the scattered pieces of feedback. The ruffles and strangled breaths and scratch-scratch of rope. The cold, as sharp as the ice they used to keep fruit and meat fresh. The overwhelming smell of blood and dirt.

"Is—" He shouldn't have second-guessed himself, not with his family present, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing, smelling, tasting, what he was potentially beholding. "Is that a person trussed up?"

"You missed an important factor," said his father. "This is no person. This is mud."

A Muggle.

The Muggle whimpered. There was some gag around their mouth, and yet Ominis deciphered every note of fear.

"But this is dangerous!" He went to hide his wand, but Marvolo's hand stopped him. "You shouldn't have brought—"

"We can do what we want," Marvolo said. "We're Gaunts, little brother, and this scum before you requires humbling."

Ominis swallowed bile. Perhaps errantly, your voice hummed in his mind then. Your laugh. He imagined hearing it. Imagined it was you tied to the floor.

"No," he said at once. "I won't do it."

"The Cruciatus Curse has been used to subdue our enemies for centuries." Pride flowed through his brother's words. "You should be overjoyed to have this opportunity. Your siblings and I were thrilled with our first Muggles."

They've tortured innocent people before. All his brothers and sisters – they'd all done it.

"But— I can't hurt them. T-They've done nothing wrong to me. They're just—"

"They are worms beneath our boots, and their very existence is an abomination." Marvolo gave him a rough jerk. "I taught you how to use Crucio."

Yes, but Ominis swore it was only for self-defence.

When he didn't reply, Marvolo spoke, "So cast it now, on the Muggle."

Ominis shook his head. Fear and panic ran his mouth dry. "I can't."

"You will, or so help me, boy, you'll be a disgrace to the family," muttered his father. "Cast it."

"No."

"Cast. It."

"I won't."

Marvolo's laugh rang out. "I didn't realise your spine was made of cotton, Ominis."

But Ominis was made of steel in that moment, for he couldn't imagine a better reason to defy his family than for the sake of Muggles and Muggle-borns. For you.

"I won't cast it."

"Then you clearly need some encouragement." And before Ominis could even process what that meant, Marvolo yelled, "Crucio!"

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pain, as he understood, was simply a reflex of the body to let the brain know something, somewhere, was wrong. A warning sign to cease whatever behaviour was causing it.

This was pain with no epicentre. There was no singular point that was bowing to the most pressure. This was all-encompassing and never-ending. This was his stomach and chest and heart, his brain and lungs, from the tips of his fingers to the knobs of his shoulders and knees and the ends of his toes. Every part of him, alight, doused in oil and set on fire through the concentrated rays of the sun.

Nowadays he doesn't remember that moment very clearly. The anguish was so great, he must've blacked out once or twice. Marvolo held it for a long time, longer than he needed to ingrain his foul teachings. All Ominis does remember is the pain, so acute that words fail to describe it, even to this day.

And the thought, back then, that his family could cause such pain, tore something inside him he would never be able to stitch back up.

When his brother released the curse, Ominis was curled up on the floor. Something wet lay beneath his cheek. Perhaps sweat. Perhaps spit. Perhaps blood, his own or the Muggle's. Perhaps even piss, for the curse had been too much for his bladder to handle. Every nerve ending on his skin was trembling. He'd let go of his wand somewhere in the room, and even now he couldn't sense it, like the pain had burned a hole where instead should be that bond.

"That is a Gaunt," said his father, pride sugaring his tone. "Your brother didn't hesitate."

Marvolo's voice was warm with mockery. "I have no qualms using the Cruciatus Curse on you, little brother, if it will teach you a valuable lesson."

What lesson could that possibly be? In the dizziness, Ominis couldn't untangle what the crucial moral was. It was a puzzle he couldn't solve, and perhaps never would.

"Would you like me to cast that on you again?"

"No!" Ominis managed to weep. He dribbled as he did, and shame burst through him. "N-No, please."

"Then get up," Marvolo hauled him to his feet, whether he was ready or not, "and cast it on someone who really deserves it."

Ominis is ashamed of the memory that follows. Sometimes he wishes he could alter it, pull it out of his mind like brittle thread and snap it into pieces, but then he wouldn't remember the valuable lesson he did learn that day. That his family were a cruel peoples.

And, as he raised his wand at his victim, that he was cruel now too.

"Crucio!"

Back near the end of third year, Ominis had found you climbing a tree on the school grounds. The wind was high and fretful – like his nerves, hearing you so far up, that carefree giggle carried on the current like bird's wings.

"Is that you, Gibby?"

"Ominis!" you chirruped. "You have to come up. The view is great!"

"I bet it's really swell."

"Sorry, sorry! I mean— oh, just come up! It's amazing, I promise!"

"You know you have a broom, right?" he called up, exasperated. "It's much safer than climbing trees! Where you could fall."

"I know! But this is all I've got back home, so I'd better get used—"

You let out a noise. The tree rumbled. There were four hard knocks that sent terror through him like lightning and a sudden thump on the ground like a knife to the gut. He rushed over to where you were crying out, breathless with pain. He'd never heard such a keening sound before, not in a physical, raw sense, where he could almost feel it himself. Pain that was almost too burdened to bear.

"Ugh, you're so foolish!" He nocked his wand skywards and sent out a flare. Hopefully someone would see it. "What have you hurt?"

You were in too much agony to reply – something had to be broken.

"I'm going to feel you, okay?"

You made a straggled noise he took for consent and pressed a hand to your arm. It came away wet. Blood. A broken and torn arm for certain then. You wheezed, too. Perhaps a broken rib. He pressed gently around, searching for the worst sources of pain through the leaf-ridden folds of your robes and shattered remnants of your glasses, but only when he reached forwards, felt the wetness around your upper lip and cheeks, did he realise you were choking from the blood of a broken nose.

He'd never felt a face before, not anyone outside his family. Yours was smaller than he'd expected. Your presence was so loud, so vivid, he'd expected you to match it physically as well. Even in the state that you were he could smell that sweet soap, and for some reason had the sudden urge to touch the rest of your face, explore how you were made, how the world shaped you.

"I'm going to staunch the bleeding." Instead he dispelled the thoughts and pointed his wand, enunciating as clearly as he could, "Episkey!"

A whip-like crack. You shrieked, but after a moment, your hysteria calmed, and he wiped the blood around your nose with his sleeve.

"I—" Tears filtered your winded voice. "I can't... move... my leg."

"It's probably broken too, like every other bone in your body," he retorted sharply. Good thing he'd had advance tutoring for healing spells. "I told you it was dangerous."

"I know," you bleated.

But his anger dissolved. There was no point rubbing it in your face. Whether he was right, or whether you had come down the tree perfectly well, you would've done it anyway.

"Can you last until someone comes to help?" he mumbled, lowering his tone.

"I can last."

"Good. I'll wait with you."

"Promise I... won't look into the light."

Ominis wrinkled his nose. "A sight joke now? Really?"

"No, no... it's a Muggle saying— never mind." A weighted pause. "Thank you."

He scoffed. "For being right?"

"Yes," you said softly, an admission. "But also... for being my friend."

Madam Blainey hurried over eventually and carted you away, cooing over your injuries, admonishing your actions, and Ominis stayed at your side until you drank every last acrid drop of healing potion, and you were fast asleep in the infirmary wards, at peace.

Even though you were silly, frivolous, an oddball who spoke fluent gibberish, he never wanted you to be in such pain again. He certainly couldn't imagine being the cause of it.

Which is why he swore on that day, after the Muggle had long since collapsed on the cellar floor, after his father and mother and brother delighted in his first successful cast of Crucio, that he would never again cause anyone such agony. Least of all you.

So in fourth year, he did his best to ignore you. To create a wide berth. And to find a way to escape his family.

He hung out more with Sebastian, even though his friend was slowly changing, ambitions growing. Both of them were equally matched in many things, like academics and opinions, and with Anne taking suddenly ill, trapped within the bindings of a unknown curse, Sebastian had his own demons about finding her a cure. They explored more outside – the countryside was huge, after all, and Ominis had always found the place intimidating for someone who couldn't see any of it. They lounged in the Undercroft more often – their own hiding spot to where they could escape the stress of school and home life and the increasingly pressing threat of a goblin rebellion. Mostly, Ominis went there to avoid you.

Sebastian quickly noticed you were missing from these adventures, though. Nothing much escaped his notice, even when his sister's illness consumed him – too shrewd to forget the giant girl-shaped gap in their homework brainstorming sessions, or learning questionable jinxes, or snacking on magical sweets. Ominis eventually confessed to what he'd had to do over summer – and what he would do to keep you safe.

"Very noble of you," Sebastian said, the wide, open walls of the Undercroft echoing his voice. "But you didn't have a choice."

"I did." Ominis shot at the dummy, again and again, to channel his frustration. "I chose to hurt that Muggle. I chose to cause them pain. And I couldn't have done it if I didn't want to."

"What else were you supposed to do then? Let your family hurt you again?"

"I should have! What I did to that Muggle... they're probably dead now..."

"Your family would've killed them regardless."

"That doesn't make it better!"

Sebastian yanked Ominis' shoulder, obliging him to stop, to listen. "You're being ridiculous. Your family forced you to hurt that Muggle. Now you're going to self-destruct an entire friendship because of them?"

Anguished panic stripped his insides raw, but he fought to contain it. "If they'll do that to some random person they found on the street, think what they'll do to her! My family isn't like yours, Sebastian. I can't risk Peregrine Malfoy telling on me. I won't."

Sebastian let out a singular, dark chuckle. "Don't you worry about Pretentious Perry. I'll sort him out." He exhaled, softening. "You ignoring Gibby isn't going to do anything but make you both upset. She's tenacious, and too loyal to us. She's just going to keep demanding an explanation until we give her one."

"Then she's going to be disappointed for a long time. Tell her whatever it takes to keep her away from me."

"You can't—" Sebastian let out a frustrated grunt. "You can't make me the mediator between you two."

Ominis turned back to the dummy. "I'm not asking you to. I don't care if you want to be her friend, but I won't. For her sake."

"Yeah? And what about yours?"

Ominis didn't have an answer for that.

He did manage to avoid you all autumn term. An excruciatingly difficult task, because teachers often paired the two of you together now – your chaos matching Ominis' order perfectly well. But he was cold to you, callous when you pried, outright mean when you demanded. You were as tenacious and loyal as Sebastian warned though. No matter what Ominis said, how rude he was, you never gave in.

Eventually the cold shoulder was all he could give emotionally. He was tired of drawing from the hatred that welled inside him, and turning it on you.

Over Christmas that year, Sebastian invited Ominis to stay with his family in Feldcroft, and Ominis agreed. So did the Gaunts, who knew the Sallows, albeit poor, to be a well-bred family, though perhaps less aware of Sebastian's more radical opinions on Muggles and Muggle-borns. It was good to see Anne, too – even sick, weak, body breaking down piece by piece by the curse, she was spirited and stubborn and filled the feminine void that was missing between him and Sebastian.

But she wasn't you. She could never replace you.

"Have you heard from Gibby?" she asked on one of her good days, when Solomon Sallow was mucking out the horses. She was tucked in bed still, wrapped in thick cloths and furs whilst the boys played Gobstones by the foot of her bed. "I miss her enthusiasm for Muggle sweets."

Before Ominis could speak, Sebastian declared, pouring on the smarminess, "They're not talking anymore."

"Oh?" Her curiosity was directed at Ominis. "Why?"

"We fell out," Ominis said through a clenched jaw, hoping his tone was enough to quiet Sebastian. "Nothing else to it."

"You and Gibby? Falling out? What did you do wrong?"

"Why do you assume it's my fault?"

"Because Gibby would sooner stake her own heart than argue with you."

Neither twin pressed, so Ominis didn't answer. Later that week, however, her prodding questions changed to sympathetic disagreement, and he suspected Sebastian gave her enough information to infer his reasoning. Unfortunately, Anne's thoughts on the matter aligned with her brother's, and though she frequently tried to convince Ominis of this fact, most of the time he couldn't stand to listen to it, and he simply walked out of the house.

She would never understand his decision. They did not have his family.

When Ominis returned to Hogwarts for the spring term, however, knowing Anne was partly right about leaving you in this middling state, he resolved no longer to hide behind feeble excuses. Sebastian was slowly seeking solace in the Dark Arts, something Ominis rejected vehemently, but even then there was safety with Sebastian's status that there never was for you.

He had to protect you by any means necessary. That meant it was time to end the friendship for good.

So it wasn't surprising when, on the first day back, he entered the Undercroft and found you standing there.

"Colloportus!"

The lock behind him clicked, the grille sealing shut. This infuriated him to no end – four years and your naivety still preceded you.

"You know I can cast Alohomora—?"

"Expelliarmus!"

The wand flew from his grasp, clattering somewhere to his left.

"That was excessive."

"Was it?" you challenged, coming up to him. Strawberry laces. "You've had the whole of Christmas to think about what a meater you've been, and I'm not going to let you start the silent treatment again."

Meater. Context was a useful thing at filling in Muggle-vocabulary-shaped gaps.

"How did you find this place?" he asked.

"I followed you, last term, when you were not talking to me."

"Why don't, for once, Gibby," he snarled, "you mind your own business?"

"You are my business!" you yelled – and there it was, the first inkling of pain. "Last year you were my best friend. You and Sebastian, and Anne too. Now she's sick and I haven't seen her in months, you refuse to talk to me and Sebastian won't tell me why!"

Ominis pushed out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Sebastian had done a terrible job at warding you away. Yes, you had spent more time with other people in your year, like Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur, and Garreth, Leander and Cressida and even the new girl, Natsai Onai. But still you crawled back to him.

"Like I said, it's not your business."

"I'm not accepting that answer."

"It's the only answer you're getting."

"Is it me?" you flung out. "Did I say something wrong? Did you get fed up with me copying your homework? Or showing Natty around? I know you pretend to despise everyone in that house. Or maybe it's personal? Have I been annoying? Do I smell bad?"

You never smell bad. He opened his hand. "Give my wand back, Gibby."

To your credit, when he asked for the thing that helped him make sense of the world, you retrieved it, no resistance, and placed it into his waiting palm. The brief touch sent a pleasant, unwanted current tingling through his skin.

"Is it family?"

Ominis snatched his hand away. "No."

"It is. It must be. You stayed at Feldcroft all Christmas." You softened. "You know you can tell me anything—"

"Butt out, Gibby."

"Ominis—"

"No. Listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once. I'm tired of picking up the pieces after you. I'm tired of your clumsiness and your stupidity. I'm tired of holding your hand and coddling you. This world is cruel, and since you haven't learnt it yet, maybe you will now. You don't need me, and I certainly don't need you. So leave me alone." Then the word slipped out, unbidden. "Mudblood."

Your gasp was drawn out, a long inhale that sucked all the light over an arid horizon. Ominis immediately regretted it. He'd caused that Muggle physical pain, he'd been a silent bystander as you fell off that tree in third year, but emotional pain, the crossing of a line that could never be turned back upon, the shattering of your heart into pieces no spell could mend... that was worse than any Cruciatus Curse.

"T-Take that back," you demanded, holding back a sob. "Y-You take that b-back, right now!"

He didn't. All he did was turn around and cast the Unlocking charm. The grille lifted.

You sniffled. Tears splattered onto the stone. In that moment, your sweetness had been stolen, your brightness dimmed. All because of him.

"You're a beast, Ominis Gaunt," you yelled as the lift churned into motion. "I wish I'd never met you!"

And he left you there, knowing you were right.

[MASTERLIST][NEXT] [Amazing art by Giselann, Divider credit]

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #gibby #acvas #acvasverse #my writing #my stuff #aka the fic where i make ominis suffer for love

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