#that wasn’t something they were interested to do

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

+

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

+

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ

[et6rnalsun]

YOU GON’ MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE FOR A WHILE (WOULD YOU FUCK ME?)

is your best friend really your best friend or is it just a way to cover the sexual tension that drowns out your lost common sense? good question.

95% of the time matt wanted to give in to that burning temptation, the other 5% he just did it carelessly.

that five percent had manifested itself on a saturday night filled with boredom and complete dullness, nothing interesting or stimulating enough to completely turn the day around — except for chris animatedly yapping about his umpteenth failed talking stage of the month downstairs. you were lying on matt’s bed while he absentmindedly fixed his hair in the mirror, getting ready to go out after hours of begging him to do so.

on one hand, he was also desperately trying not to look in your direction. christ, you should realize on your own that you were in a position far too provocative for any human with an ounce of hormones. you were lying on your stomach, shirt slightly hiked up to reveal your soft skin, back arched enough to highlight your curves that he drooled over daily. he had to get a grip.

“please, go and try not to wear emo clothes,” you subtly teased, your cheek snugly pressed against the palm of your hand as you turned your body more to watch him get ready. he just rolled his eyes at that, the sassiness of it enough to make you chuckle. “i’m not emo. black jus’ suits me” he turned to meet your gaze just as he was putting on his chain, his head bowed slightly. “plus i thought you liked it?”

you scoffed, but a smirk still tugged at the corners of your mouth. “i do” you shrugged, your eyes trailing down his frame and the way the chain dangled down his neck — making him shiver at the mere gesture. as you watched and talked to him, you noticed his obvious struggle in putting the thing on, probably not being able to latch it. so you stood up, adjusting your shirt that was out of place after laying down in that way, before approaching him.

“you could ask for help” you positioned yourself behind him, raising yourself slightly on tiptoe to latch the chain.

he chuckled lightly at the fact that you immediately sensed his need, and turned to look at you. he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “alright, thanks,” he trailed, licking his lips. “you read my mind or somethin’?” you felt small under his gaze, and you crossed your arms instinctively, “it was simply a pitiful scene. anyone would’ve understood”

but his hands automatically rested on your arms seconds after your gesture, slowly unwrapping and bringing them up to move around his neck—his rings touching your skin made your stomach knot even tighter.

how the fuck were you supposed to react? you hugged each other often, yes, but this was too intimate to not miss a heartbeat or two. “are you tryin’ to suffocate yourself with my hands?” you tried to joke about it, easing the strange tension that was building between you.

matt was only fueling the tension, though. the fact that his hands had subsequently moved down your waist wasn’t helping; your bodies now close enough to touch, breaths mingling with each other. “you can try,” he replied, breathing a little too heavy as he took in your scent.

you rolled your eyes, trying not to meet his gaze. “looks like you want simple affection to me”

“maybe” but no, he didn’t. his touch felt too urgent to be something as simple as some friendly affection. you felt his hands squeezing your hips a little too tightly, fingertips digging into your skin little by little, desperate to feel you closer. and the heat of his body was strong enough to reveal his true state of mind. “it’s not weird for me to want it”

your arms wrapped around his neck more properly for a hug, letting your fingers sink lazily into his messy hair. “you’re right” you murmured lowly, letting him melt into you. you tried to ignore how his lips then trailed along your jaw to reach your neck, skin exposed by the position of your head, their softness sending little shivers down your spine. he had started leaving wet kisses, actions a little bolder after feeling how you tightened your grip on his locks, enough to make him let out a quiet hum against your throat. the sound made you head spin, your body responding to his touch before your mind could catch up.

"you feel so good," matt sighed, voice husky as his lips grazed your pulse. your own breathing was uneven now, your fingers threading through his hair as you let your head tilt further, offering him more—silent permission. his grip on your waist tightened slightly, and he let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. “is this okay?"

“not really, no” your back was now leaning against the wall of his room, and you felt too much of a prisoner in those actions that seemed simply wrong for someone who had been your bestfriend for so long.

he raised an eyebrow, pulling away from your neck with a small and wet pop—the sound of his mouth letting go of the patch of skin he’d sucked and bit to leave a mark. “no?” he was skeptical, not believing your words. “bet you’re so wet as you say this”

you pressed your legs together. “i’m not gettin’ wet for this little” you challenged subtly, trying to keep your breathy tone hidden. you were pretty sure that your panties were now stained from the desire he had made you feel in just a few minutes, and you could clearly feel it dripping in a sinful, haunting way.

he placed a hand on your leg, slowly running his fingers up to where your shorts ended, moving closer to your inner thigh. “i think i should touch to see if you’re lyin’ or not”

you beat him into the game, placing your hand over the bulge of his pants, the corners of your lips turning up in a smirk as you slowly tightened your grip. “well, you’re so hard” you hummed, watching as his face changed with his lip bitten so hard by his teeth you were sure you’d see blood soon. “so you can’t really talk about me bein’ wet”

“no shit” he breathed out, placing a hand over yours to move it slightly, groaning softly at the sensation. you followed the way he guided your hand, squeezing it ever so slightly as it strained against the fabric of his jeans, begging to come out. he then rested his forehead against your shoulder, moaning against it, moving his hips to feel more.

“you’re not goin’ to cum on me, are you?” you teased.

matt rolled his eyes, both in pleasure and annoyance. “you think i’m that pathetic?”

before you could nod at his words and answer positively to the question, chris's shrill voice reached your ears from downstairs; “move your ass! i’m hungry and i’m not gon wait for you to finish fuckin’”

you pulled away with a giggle, taking advantage of his almost weak state to push him aside and free yourself from the wall he had created with his body that blocked your way. “you heard him” you shrugged as if you were innocent — as if you weren’t leaving him with a dripping boner, a white stain ruining the front of his pants. by the time he turned to react to everything that happened in a matter of seconds, you already disappeared down the stairs.

“fuckfuckfuck” he cursed under his breath, looking down at the mess you made. he was only going to die only after he made you pay for it, he was sure of it.

[be4chywritez]

crush on the waitress | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

Luke has a big fat crush on his waitress, and he thinks he blew his shot, but did he?

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

Luke hadn’t been back in Michigan long—just a few days into the break, and he was already back in the routine with his old teammates. Same group, same effortless banter, like no time had passed at all. Tonight, they had settled on some casual restaurant near campus, the kind of place that felt familiar even if you hadn’t been there a million times.

Luke wasn’t even paying much attention at first, just laughing at something Ethan said, but then he saw you.

You were waiting tables, moving easily from one to the next, balancing plates and conversations like it was second nature. And Luke? Luke got stuck. Mid-sentence, mid-laugh, mid-whatever he was doing before you walked into his line of sight.

He barely even noticed how long he had been looking until Mark leaned over.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

Luke blinked. "Huh?"

Mark followed his gaze, then smirked. "That’s a no."

Mackie turned, catching on immediately. "Oh, this is good."

Luke felt his face heat up and quickly looked back at his menu, pretending to be extremely interested in the list of burgers. "I wasn’t even—"

"Yeah, you were," Ethan cut in. "You’re still doing it."

Luke sighed, but he couldn’t exactly deny it. You were just… effortlessly pretty. Not in some intimidating, untouchable way, but in a way that made it impossible not to look twice. Or, in his case, five or six times.

Before anyone could make another comment, you walked up to the table, pen and order pad in hand.

"Hey, guys! Welcome in," you said, offering a polite smile. "Can I get you started with something to drink?"

Luke knew he should just answer like a normal person, but instead, he sat there like an idiot while the rest of the table casually rattled off their orders. Then you looked at him, expectant, and he suddenly forgot how to function.

"Uh… water’s good."

You nodded, jotting it down. "Alright, I’ll be back in a minute with those."

You lingered just half a second longer, eyes narrowing slightly. "You look really familiar."

Luke knew that look. The same one people gave him when they were trying to place him but couldn’t quite connect the dots. He should probably just help you out—mention his name, drop something about hockey. But before he could say anything, you gave a small shrug.

"Maybe you just have one of those faces."

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Ethan got there first. "Or maybe—"

"Don’t," Luke cut in, shooting him a look.

Ethan held up his hands in mock innocence. "I wasn’t gonna say anything."

"You absolutely were," Mackie said, shaking his head.

You glanced between them, amused but still a little confused. "Alright, well, let me know if it comes to you."

And with that, you walked off toward another table, leaving Luke to glare as his friends immediately turned on him.

"You’re useless," Mark said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, that was brutal," Mackie added. "Not even a ‘what’s your name?’ or a ‘do you go to Michigan?’ Nothing."

Luke just groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. "Can we please not?"

Ethan grinned. "Oh, no. We are absolutely talking about this."

Luke tried to shake it off, really, he did. But it was impossible not to look when you were right there, moving through the restaurant like you’d been doing this for years. There was something about the way you worked—effortless but focused, quick but never rushed. He caught himself watching the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, how you leaned in slightly when customers spoke, like you actually cared about their orders and weren’t just going through the motions.

It was oddly attractive. Not just the way you looked, but the way you carried yourself. Like you were completely in your element.

"Luke," Mark said, dragging out his name like this wasn’t the third time he’d had to get his attention.

Luke tore his eyes away, but it was too late. Ethan followed his gaze across the restaurant and immediately grinned.

"Alright, this is getting embarrassing," Ethan said. "At least pretend to look at your phone or something."

Luke ignored him, reaching for his drink. He wasn’t about to let them get under his skin.

And then you walked over to the bar, leaning on the counter as you talked to the bartender. Luke couldn’t hear what you were saying, but you were smiling, laughing at something he said.

And just like that, Luke hated him. Not in a serious way—he wasn’t delusional. He had no claim here. But still.

"Ohhh," Mackie hummed, noticing immediately. "Looks like you’ve got some competition, Hughesy."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Mark leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "I don’t know, man. He’s got the upper hand. He’s already back there, cracking jokes, getting smiles."

Ethan nodded in fake sympathy. "Tough break."

Luke took another sip of his drink, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Damn," Mackie added, shaking his head. "You think she writes her number on his arm with a Sharpie at the end of the night? Or just hands it over on a napkin?"

"You guys are idiots," Luke muttered, but he couldn’t help glancing back over toward the bar. You were still talking to the bartender, your expression relaxed, comfortable.

Yeah, Luke definitely needed to get his act together.

By the time you came back with their drinks, the restaurant had gotten noticeably busier. You barely had time to set them down before you were already moving toward another table, greeting new customers and juggling orders.

Luke didn’t even pretend not to watch you. It wasn’t just that you were pretty—though, yeah, that was a big part of it—but there was something about the way you handled everything so smoothly. Balancing plates, dodging customers, laughing at something an older couple said like you actually enjoyed being here.

"You’re still staring," Mark muttered, smirking over the rim of his glass.

Luke didn’t even try to deny it this time. "Shut up."

"Great comeback," Mackie said. "Really showed us."

Luke ignored them, glancing toward the bar again. The bartender was helping another server, barely paying you any attention now. Not that it mattered. Luke knew his friends were just trying to get under his skin, and he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

Eventually, the restaurant started clearing out. Tables emptied one by one.

You came by, collecting empty glasses from the table, clearly in less of a rush now that the dinner rush had died down.

"Still hanging in there?" you asked, stacking the glasses with practiced ease.

"Trying," Ethan said easily. "You must be wiped."

You shrugged. "Not too bad. Closing shifts get slow toward the end."

Mackie leaned forward slightly. "You do this full-time or just while you're in school?"

"Just while I’m in school," you said, setting down a fresh napkin that someone had knocked onto the floor. "I’m in law school at Michigan."

Luke, who had been quietly sipping his drink, blinked.

Law school.

"Jesus," Ethan said, eyebrows raising. "I barely made it through undergrad."

"Yeah, I think you barely made it in, too," Mark added, smirking.

"Okay, rude," Ethan shot back before turning back to you. "That’s impressive, though."

"Thanks," you said, smiling. "What about you guys? You all go to Michigan, right?"

"Yeah, we did," Mackie said. "Most of us played hockey here, but now we’re scattered in a few different places. Luke’s in Jersey, I’m in Montreal, Ethan’s—well, Ethan’s still here."

"Hey," Ethan said, feigning offense.

You laughed, glancing toward Luke, who had been suspiciously quiet. "What about you?"

Luke, who had been very much not listening, snapped his head up.

"Huh?"

The table went dead silent for half a second before Mark burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," Mackie said, shaking his head. "This is embarrassing for you."

Ethan grinned. "Didn’t hear a single thing she said, did you?"

Luke’s face burned as he scrambled to figure out what he had missed. You just raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"I was just asking if you needed a refill or anything," you said, biting back a smile.

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I’m good, thanks."

Mackie sighed dramatically. "Man is down bad."

As the night stretched on, the restaurant emptied even more. A couple lingered in the corner, finishing off their drinks, and one guy sat at the bar scrolling through his phone, but aside from that, it was just you and Luke’s table.

You grabbed their check from the counter and made your way back over. "Alright, guys. I’ll leave this with you," you said, setting the little black folder in the middle of the table. "No rush."

"Appreciate it," Mark said, reaching for it first.

Before he could open it, Mackie leaned over, lowering his voice just enough to be mostly subtle. "Alright, Hughes. This is your shot."

Luke, who had been so close to getting through the night without another round of this, exhaled through his nose. "What?"

"Leave your number," Ethan said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Luke blinked. "No."

Mark smirked. "That was fast."

"Come on, man," Mackie nudged him. "You’ve been making heart eyes at her all night."

Luke shot him a look. "I have not."

"You definitely have," Ethan said. "At least a little."

"Yeah, at this point, it’s kind of sad if you don’t," Mark added.

Luke shook his head. "Not happening."

Mackie sighed dramatically. "What a waste."

"You guys are the worst," Luke muttered, standing up and grabbing his jacket.

They all threw down cash for the bill, Mark tossing in a tip before closing the folder. You came by a second later, grabbing it off the table with a quick, "Thanks, guys! Have a good night."

"Yeah, you too," Ethan said pointedly, dragging out the words and raising his eyebrows at Luke as they all walked toward the door.

Luke ignored him.

They stepped out into the cool night air, making it about halfway down the sidewalk before Luke suddenly stopped short.

Mackie turned. "Oh my God, are you actually going back in there?"

Luke groaned. "Shut up."

"You are!" Ethan grinned. "Oh, this is incredible."

Luke didn’t even give them the satisfaction of a response before turning and jogging back inside.

You were behind the counter, flipping through the checks and tucking them away when you looked up, surprised to see him. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Yeah," Luke said quickly. "Just—uh—" He held out a few extra bills, more than enough to bump up the tip Mark had left.

You glanced down, brows raising slightly. "You didn’t have to do that."

"I know," Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just—"

You smiled, taking the cash and slipping it into the folder. "Thanks, Luke."

He nodded, standing there for half a second longer, like maybe he should say something else, but—nope. His brain had officially shut down.

So instead, he just gave you a small, sheepish smile before heading back toward the door, where his very entertained friends were watching through the window.

Mackie clapped him on the back the second he stepped outside. "You are so painfully awkward, man."

Luke groaned. "Can we go now?"

Ethan grinned. "Oh, don’t worry. We got everything we needed."

A few days passed, and Luke tried not to think about you.

He was back in Michigan, hanging out with his brothers and some old friends, doing what he always did during breaks—skating, goofing off, grabbing food with the guys. But every so often, his mind drifted back to the restaurant, to you.

Not in some overly dramatic, can’t-think-about-anything-else kind of way. More like a huh, I wonder if she’s working tonight kind of way.

And then, before he could stop himself, he was already thinking of excuses.

At first, he convinced himself he just wanted food. But then he remembered he had already eaten. Then he thought, Well, maybe just a drink, but that felt dumb, too. Eventually, he just sighed, stood up, and grabbed his keys.

"Where you going?" Jack asked, glancing up from the couch.

Luke hesitated for half a second before shrugging. "Just out for a bit."

Quinn, who had known him long enough to recognize when he was being weird, narrowed his eyes slightly. "Out where?"

Luke sighed. "Just a restaurant."

Jack smirked. "Are we supposed to pretend we don’t know which one?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "I hate you guys."

"You like her," Jack sing-songed as Luke walked out the door.

"I don’t," Luke called back, but Jack’s laughter followed him all the way to his car.

—

Luke pulled into the parking lot, telling himself it wasn’t weird. People went to restaurants alone all the time. He wasn’t being weird.

(He was absolutely being weird.)

Still, he walked inside, trying to act casual as he approached the host stand.

"Table for one?" the host asked, grabbing a menu.

"Uh, yeah," Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was being led toward a small table when he suddenly heard, "Luke?"

He turned, and there you were, standing near the bar with your bag slung over your shoulder, coat draped over your arm.

You were clocking out.

Luke, who had not planned on seeing you this soon, completely blanked for a second. "Oh. Hey."

Your lips quirked up in a small smile. "You here alone?"

Luke glanced at the empty table he was being led to, then back at you. "Uh. Yeah."

Your smile widened, clearly amused. "Bold move."

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I—uh—I was just, you know… hungry."

"Right," you said, nodding, the teasing in your tone impossible to miss.

There was a beat of silence before Luke, like the absolute dork he was, blurted out, "You wanna sit?"

You blinked, like maybe you weren’t expecting him to ask, and Luke was this close to taking it back when you smiled. "Sure."

He tried not to look too relieved as he sat down, watching as you pulled out the chair across from him.

"So," you said, setting your bag down. "Big fan of solo dining?"

Luke exhaled a small laugh. "Huge fan."

You grinned. "Sure, Hughes."

There was a moment of comfortable silence before you asked, "So, what’s your deal?"

Luke raised an eyebrow. "My deal?"

"Yeah," you said, sipping your water. "I know you play hockey, but, like, what else? What kind of person voluntarily sits alone at a restaurant instead of just ordering takeout?"

Luke shook his head, laughing under his breath. "I don’t know. I guess I just like being out sometimes."

You hummed, considering. "Interesting. So, are you the type that just, like, people-watches and makes up stories about strangers?"

"Maybe," Luke admitted. "Are you?"

"Obviously," you said. "It’s the best part of working here. So many weird people."

Luke smirked. "Am I one of them?"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm. You did come in alone after a group of guys bullied you into leaving your number and still didn’t leave it."

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You heard that?"

"Oh, I heard all of that," you said, grinning. "Very entertaining stuff."

Luke just shook his head, biting back a smile. "Great. Love that for me."

"You should," you said, leaning forward slightly. "It was kind of cute."

Luke blinked. "Wait. Really?"

You laughed. "Yeah, Hughes. Really."

Luke wasn’t sure how he got here, sitting across from you, somehow making conversation despite definitely being an idiot earlier that week. But he wasn’t about to question it.

You, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. Like sitting with him was the most normal thing in the world. Like maybe you didn’t think he was a total dork, despite the overwhelming evidence.

"So, law school," Luke said, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. "That’s intense."

"It is," you admitted. "But I like it. Keeps me busy."

"Busy enough that you don’t get to go out much?" he asked.

You smiled knowingly. "Why? You gonna tell me I should get out more?"

Luke huffed a small laugh. "I mean, I’m here alone, so I don’t think I can judge."

"True," you said. "But, yeah. I don’t get out much. Between classes, studying, and working, I don’t really have a ton of free time."

Luke nodded, thinking. "That’s kinda cool, though."

You raised an eyebrow. "Working all the time?"

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Just—being that focused on something. Knowing exactly what you wanna do."

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You don’t?"

Luke exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, I do. Hockey’s kind of my whole life, but I don’t know. Sometimes I think about what’s next and it feels—" He paused, searching for the right word.

"Big?" you offered.

Luke nodded. "Yeah. Big."

You tapped your fingers lightly against the table. "I get that. When I first started law school, it felt like I was standing at the bottom of a mountain and had no idea how I was supposed to get to the top."

Luke met your eyes. "So what did you do?"

You shrugged. "Just kept climbing. One day at a time."

Something about the way you said it—so simple, so sure—made Luke feel lighter.

He liked this. Sitting here, just talking. No pressure, no expectations. Just… getting to know you.

And apparently, you didn’t mind getting to know him either, because the conversation kept flowing. You asked about his brothers, his favorite places to travel, how he got into hockey in the first place. He asked about your favorite classes, your dream job, whether or not you actually liked working at the restaurant.

The restaurant itself started slowing down even more, the last few customers trickling out. The staff wiped down tables, stacked chairs, getting ready to close.

You glanced at your phone and sighed. "I should probably head out soon."

Luke nodded, even though he wasn’t ready for the night to end. "Yeah, of course."

You grabbed your bag and stood, hesitating for a second before looking at him again. "So, Luke?"

"Yeah?"

You smiled, amused by how quickly he straightened up, suddenly on full alert. "You gonna keep coming here alone, or are you finally gonna ask for my number?"

Luke blinked, processing, before his brain fully caught up. "Oh. Right. Uh, yeah, I should—yeah." He fumbled for his phone, nearly knocking over his water glass in the process.

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached out and took his phone from him. "Relax, Hughes. You act like I just asked you to propose."

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "This is so embarrassing."

"Not at all," you said, smirking as you typed your number into his phone. "Very endearing, actually."

Luke exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head. "Glad I can at least be entertaining."

You handed his phone back and took a step toward the door, but then—before you could think twice about it—you turned back around.

Luke barely had a second to register what was happening before you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Except—he moved just slightly at the last second, and instead of landing on his cheek, your lips brushed the corner of his instead.

Luke froze.

Like, full-body shutdown.

And if he was a little pink before? Oh, he was definitely red now.

You pulled back, biting back a grin at the completely stunned look on his face. "See you around, Hughes."

Then, like you hadn’t just short-circuited his entire brain, you turned and walked out, leaving Luke sitting there—phone still in his hand, heart fully in his throat.

For a solid five seconds, he just stared at the door, trying to process. Then, he blinked down at his phone, your name and number still on the screen.

Jack was never gonna let him live this down.

But honestly?

Totally worth it.

[wonderjanga]

Spell Craft

As the literal Champion of Magic, you’d think Billy would be able to make spells. And he can! He takes advantage of this gift as much as he can. It’s not his fault that wizards are always weirded out when he does.

Marvel and Zatanna: *talking and walking to the kitchen*

Marvel: “Hold up-” *waves hand at kitchen counter* “Sandwichio!”

Zatanna was then greeted with a sandwich literally making itself. It was a simple ham and cheese sandwich. Two pieces of bread were slapped on the counter (just straight up on the counter, not even on a plate or napkin) and a piece of cheese floated onto one slice, and a piece of ham floated onto another.

Zatanna: “A sandwich spell? …Huh.”

Marvel: “Was the “huh” a good thing? Cause I made the spell myself.”

*silence*

Zatanna: “You… you created an entirely new spell simply for making a ham and cheese sandwich?”

Marvel: “Yeah! I have one for peanut butter and jelly, and peanut butter and banana too!”

Zatanna: “What.”

Marvel: “Disandwichio! Trisandwichio!”

Sure enough a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a peanut butter and banana sandwich were made right in front of Zatanna’s eyes. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but Marvel did give her both of the sandwiches so she wasn’t exactly complaining.

or

Marvel: “Fleuria!” *snaps fingers and a dandelion on a table turns into a lily*

Magician 1: “He’s been at this for twenty minutes…”

Marvel: “Fleuria!” *snaps fingers again and the lily changes to a poppy*

Magician 2: “Hey, why’s he doing this again?”

Marvel: *starts spamming the spell but gives up on snapping his fingers*

The two watched as the flower changed over and over and over.

Magician 1: “He said he wanted to give the perfect flower to give some lady named Ms. Bambi to thank her for help with something.”

Magician 2: “Oooooh. You know, I’ve never heard of that spell.”

Magician 1: “I hadn’t either. Turns out he apparently made the spell up. Every time he casts it, a random flower will appear.”

Magician 2: “So he’s just endlessly spamming the spell, huh?”

Magician 1: “Yeah, but I think he’ll find the perfect flower. Maybe. Eventually.”

Billy did.

Anyways, after multiple more incidents, the magical community eventually just settled on the fact that the Champion made rather interesting spells. Certainly none that someone of his caliber should even deign to make, but nonetheless, they were still interesting.

Eventually, one day, Billy realized that he’s made a lot of spells. So he decided to write them down so he wouldn’t forget. That’s how a really interesting interaction with Dr. Fate went down when the man caught him writing down the spells in a book while slouched on one of the couches in the one of the rec rooms.

Marvel: “It’s just a book to keep track of spells I’ve made, Mr. Dr. Fate Sir.”

Dr. Fate: “Exactly! This is a grimoire!”

Marvel: “Okay…? You know, awfully enthusiastic about this… why?”

Dr. Fate: “How could I not be? You haven’t made a grimoire over 5000 years!”

Marvel: “Do you want a copy…?”

Dr. Fate: “You would do me that honor?!”

Marvel: “Sure. You’re my friend, aren’t cha?”

Dr. Fate could later be found showing off the grimoire all proud.

[yukioos]

Hii! Could we have a cute comfort fic where reader and bakugo are dating, and she starts feeling insecure in the relationship (such as him leaving her or getting cheated on) but he reassures her that shes the only one he wants and has eyes for 🥰 just a lil cutie

Song- sunflower by post malone

when you feel insecure in your and katsuki’s relationship

katsuki had appeared more irritable in the past few weeks, especially to you. unfortunately, you had no idea why, and were too shy to confront him about it. he started holding doors open a second less than how he normally did, and didn’t look at you as often as he normally did.

that enough was clearly a sign. you were still stuck in limbo, as you were timid and nervous to ask him about his actions, or even if he was still romantically interested in you. did he really find someone else to replace you? were you not good enough?

eventually, you didn’t interact with him as much, as you almost gave up with your relationship, but katsuki noticed how differently you’ve been acting. you were more distant, maybe even more self-conscious.

but he was fed up with it. you hardly even glanced at him, and avoided him rather than leaning to him. clearly, something was occurring in your mind, and he needed to deal with it quickly.

you lay on your bedroom, curled up into your soft and comfy bed. you randomly got a text, which distracted you from the series you were watching. eyes pulled away from the screen, your screen lit up with katsuki’s contact name and a notification.

‘im not letting you ignore me anymore. i’m coming to your dorm, we need to talk.’

he was going to break up with you, wasn’t he? maybe now you would find out if he found a different woman, or if he just became bored of you. were you not interesting anymore?

a fist strongly knocked on the door before it automatically opened. your boyfriend’s spiky blonde hair poked out from the crack of the door, and he peeked in with soft yet hard eyes.

he closed the door behind you and stared at your body lying on your bed, eyes tired. you looked so exhausted. was something or someone physically or mentally tiring you out? he hadn’t looked closely into your eyes for a while, but now he felt guilty.

when he locked the door behind him, you felt uneasy. he put his hands in his pockets and asked, “why have you been acting weird?” straight to the point.

you retorted, “i’m not acting weird—“

“yes you are. you have something on your mind, so you better spit it out.” he tried to remain calm with you, giving you a sense of safety.

you hesitated, averting your eyes from his harsh but loving gaze, and instead focused them on your dresser. you replied, “you haven’t been spending a lot of time with me, and you’re not holding doors open for me as long as you normally do. you hardly even look at me, even during class.” you paused, “do you love someone else?”

katsuki’s heart stopped, and his eyes widened. his face relaxed, but he noticed your eyes were teary. he needed time to think about how to respond. of course, he still loved you, but why would you doubt it? why would you doubt him?

he stated, “i don’t love anyone else.” he paused, “the reason why i may have seemed unfocused is because i don’t know what to get you for your birthday. it was supposed to be a surprise, but i think you should know since you’re stressing about it.” he mumbled the last part, feeling as if the words were too intimate.

you muttered an, “oh, i didn’t know that katsuki.” well, at least you knew not to be so worried anymore! “‘m sorry for worrying you.”

he jumped into your bed and threw his shirt onto the ground, tucked himself into your bed, and laid behind you. he wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his face in the crook of your neck. your boyfriend shook his head, “stop apologizing, idiot. you didn’t do anything wrong.”

you nodded and placed your hand on his large bicep, which wrapped around your waist. you pressed your body closer to his, wanting proximity. smiling, you felt much better after talking to katsuki. maybe you should’ve confronted him faster. he didn’t even seem bothered by what you were worrying about!

he was the best boyfriend ever.

this request was so cute! hope u like it!

[chicksmoothie]

• Lovedrunk — mingi

Pairing: bf!mingi x gf!reader

— Mingi and you finally decide to move in together, but truth to be told you didn’t have time for each other more than for the basics. This means you are desperate to spend time just enjoying the other’s company (and fuck, and well, it shows)

! Long fuck fic

! based on Say it like you mean it characters but not mentioning its plot

W/C: ~4.8K

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, madly in love

Warnings: +18, mdni (seriously), cursing (a lot), dirty talking (another lot), teasing, edging, slight possessive behaviour (from both parts), breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, honestly this is a kink compilation, raw sex (you know you shouldn’t), needy mingi & needy reader, both vibing in the same horny kind of tune, pure hornyness, dry humping, a lot of spit, oral (f receiving), making out, multiple orgasms and therefore overstim, squirting, switch dynamics (rather bratty power bottom reader x service top mingi but also kind of switching so idk?), filming, this counts as a warning too cos really madly in love should be a warning, let me know if I forgot something i hope not cos this warnings are longer than the fic already

A/N: at the end

Also: this oneshot is fiction and in no way aims to portrait anyone involved in the story

Taglist: @i01233 @tinie03 @thesupreme316 @esmedelacroix thanks for waiting ♡

His scent was all over the room after taking a shower. His arm still a bit humid and warmer than usual had you hugged close to him under the blanket. And you couldn’t see it well since it was dark in the room, but the red and white highlights flashing from the tv painting his beautiful profile and the screen reflecting on his glasses had you totally distracted.

you were trying so hard to focus on the anime you decided to watch together. You were so, so trying it…

But the way his casual and cozy look caught your breath each time you had the chance to see it since you moved in together had no hopes in changing, ever.

It had been some time since you had had a quality time and chill night together due to hectic schedules at work and all the move in process, so now that the stars aligned and you had the same days off you wanted it to be as actually chill as possible and restricted every single dirty thought about pulling his glasses off and kiss him to start with.

If only his fingers were not playing with yours under the blanket. If only his shampoo wasn’t the same as yours and you didn’t weirdly get off to that because it meant you were actually living together. If only you weren’t so pent up after nearly a week without seeing each other for anything else but eating and sleeping if you were lucky.

If only you didn’t feel your heart skip a beat every time he chuckled when he found something funny happening in the anime that you were totally not watching.

If only you didn’t love him so fucking much.

Mingi turned his face your way while still smiling to check if you found the scene as funny as he did.

And you will never know what he saw on your face at this very moment, but his smile dropped and his eyes narrowed in only one second. “What’s up babychick? You don’t like the series?”

He knew exactly what was up, but he chose to play dumb for a moment. “Yes, yes, i am loving it,” you recovered quickly from your trance ”it is so interesting” and decided to play along. You smiled, lovingly, not showing how sarcastic you were actually being and on the contrary making it sound as genuine as possible.

You turned your face to the screen just in time to catch a smirk slowly growing on his face. He wanted to play? This you could do it. No problem at all.

—

The voices coming from the tv were white noise and ambient sound at this point. You had been silent since your little conversation earlier, but no words were needed when both of you were anticipating what was going to happen. You knew each other already, so you could tell that Mingi was getting impatient by how he looked at you from the corner of his eye. His tease was backfiring completely and all he could think about was him eating you out, but he didn’t want to lose just yet.

It all started to get complicated for him with you pulling up slightly at the hem of his shirt and placing your hand on his lower stomach pretending you were looking for some kind of warmth, your hand was cold you said. Sneaky girl… and eventho his breath hitched for one millisecond he continued with your little edging game.

He put his hand over yours, saying that by doing so it would warm up quicker. And it could have been an innocent gesture if only he wasn’t tracing random forms and decorating your fingers in suggestive caresses. Fucking tease… Good thing someone died in the anime in this exact moment, that way your little pout could pass as unbothered.

But you were bothered. Both of you were since long ago. All the second intentions behind the caresses, all the low whimpers you could hear from one another at every single touch and trying to contain yourselves from just lose it all and finally fuck were agonizing at this point.

You knowing he was already half hard and that your hand was dangerously close to his crotch but intentionally not daring to touch him wasn’t easy.

Him knowing you were probably already soaking through the grey leggins you used as a pijamas and he had done nothing but sit beside you and hug you yet was even less easy. How bad would it be when he got started…

You realizing the hands you originally had interlaced under the blanket were now somehow resting on your tit made you sigh.

Him realizing that your nipple was perking out and begging to be pinched, squeezed, bitten, sucked and anything possible was almost unbearable.

You and him panting quietly, suffocating in the tension that you both had slowly been creating by doing nothing but know that you wanted each other very, very badly.

You were also getting impatient, so you decided to push his buttons further and you knew exactly how. Without saying a word, you broke your cozy (yet hot) hug to slowly get up the sofa. “Where are you going?” His voice was husky and a little pouty because of your sudden distance. “I am sleepy, I think I am going to be-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as he grabbed your arm and pulled you down, placing you on his lap right over his hard bulge. Both of you moaned at the contact. God he was harder than you thought he would be. This rilling up game was going to be one of your favorites… “stop with the teasing, you win” you smiled in victory “i always win” well, he had to agree on that.

As soon as you leaned in to take his glasses off and give him the long awaited kiss both of you were a panting mess already. The kiss was slow and nasty, drinking in each other as if you had been wandering in a desert for ages and just found a fountain.

His hands were gripping your hips hard, knuckles white and head empty, bucking up every time you grinded your pussy along his dick through your clothes. The friction so good you could cum from just that after all the built up tension, your fingers tangled in his shirt and pulled to bring him even closer. You had the feeling that he had been too far from you for too long, otherwise you wouldn’t be this extremely horny, so needy for his touch and his skin on yours already.

“I need this out of the way” you pulled his shirt off slowly, taking your time on the motion, then yours went after, both ending rumbled on the floor.

You had to take a second to admire his topless figure under you, the dim light of the tv outlining his strong figure, and you looked at him with real adoration written in your eyes “my hand is cold again…” you bit your lip shyly, putting your hand back on his lower tummy as you had done earlier, but this time you traced the pattern of his slightly defined torso up to his chest, both hands meeting at his back and feeling his wide shoulders with featherlike touches.

“You are gonna be the end of me babe, you doing this on purpose?” his head rested on the back of the sofa, eyes lidded, tensing under your light touch and waiting impatiently for you to snap and continue what had already started.

You looked at him with such a fake surprised expression, “what do you mean? I am only admiring my pretty boyfriend” and you knew what you calling him pretty would do to him.

“I thought the game ended” he growled, eyes now on the roof and his adam’s apple bobbing while swallowing a moan at the praise “yes, and I won, so I am going to savor my price” you leaned back and took his chin to make him look at you “see how I am already? You made me wet through my pijamas, anything to say about that??”

He looked down where your leggins were indeed as soaked as he had imagined, the dark patch too close to his cock for his brain to not malfunction. “I am going to fuck you so good babychick you wont be going out of bed in three working days” that you didn’t see it coming. He was never so aggressive from the beginning, but he was in such a horny state his hands were already shaking in your hips.

“Please let me eat you out” you moaned at his begging “its all I can think about” he closed his eyes and sighed just at the thought of your dripping cunt smearing his face and your sweet flavor filling his mouth. “You are so needy…” you said and he nodded slowly and deadly serious “only for you”.

One of his hands run up to your back, the other one still gripping your hip tightly. Your boy was so strong and so big it took him zero effort to stand up carrying you on top of him. “You wanted to go to bed yeah?” You grinned “I knew you would get the hint at some point”

He had been between your legs for two orgasms already. His face a dripping mess and his thumb circling your clit slowly compared to the quick pace his tongue had set on you. Slurping, moaning in your cunt, drawing random patterns in your inner thighs with his free hand to feel your soft skin somehow. He was fucking the mattress to get some kind of friction for himself although he could cum untouched by just the sound of your moans and the way you pushed his head impossibly close to you.

The overstimulation of cumming twice with just his mouth was torture but you couldn’t think about pushing him away, that would be worse. “My girl likes to go wild with overstim?” He slurped up a drop of your cum, pulling out his tongue to show you your own creamy arousal “you think you are stretched out for me already my love?”

You couldn’t take this any longer, having him inside was your top priority in this moment so you grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up as he moaned in pleasure due to the sudden pain while you cried “mingi, pants off” you were already naked, but he had still these black home sweatpants that normally drove you crazy but in this moment drove you mad.

He obliged and pulled them down, revealing that he had no boxers on and letting his dripping cock spring out, red, all veins on display and you swore to god you had never seen him this hard in all the time you had been together.

You were already salivating… the stretch of his cock was always good, but this time.. oh my god you couldn’t imagine it, you had to have it.

Wide open on your bed, waiting for him to put the condom on and his dick to finally fill you up, anticipating that stretch you were aching for with little whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

And he knew it.

He was sliding his tip along your entrance, covering the condom in your slick and his own spit after his make out session with your pussy. “mingi, fuck off…” you were desperate for him “baby I really want to slam in, but I have to put it in slowly” this was half true given his size and half him getting revenge for his loss, but you were not having it.

You were always the winner for a reason: whatever he did you took it further.

You rose your hips and pushed against the tip. finally, finally opening yourself for him inch by inch. You couldn’t see it because you had closed your eyes at the feeling, but he kept them wide open in a completely fucked out expression, savoring the sight of your relaxed face for having him inside you at good fucking last.

Mingi tried, but he couldn’t keep your slow pace until the end and bottomed out in one go, gasping and falling over you, completely worn out already. “god, fuck, mingi” After a few seconds of both of you adjusting to the feeling he started moving, his body still flush against yours, he didn’t bear thinking about being the slightest bit apart from you and not feel you tense, squirm and tremble underneath him. Your sweat making it easier for you to meet his movements as if you were water.

“God…Your pussy hugs me so good baby, I love it. My fucking girl… you are mine, yeah? Answer me baby please…” and he sounded as he really needed you to give a response to that question, eyes shut and forehead pressed against yours. “Mingi…” you cupped his face with both your hands to kiss him “i am yours” you whispered between his lips and dragged your fingers to his hair to pull slightly.

His beautiful reaction every time you did so made you clench around him, making him open his eyes in shock at the sudden tightness and turning his growls even deeper.

He pretended he wasn’t, but he was so needy and so clingy. So lovedrunk for you that you saying that you belonged to him had him already close to cumming.

“There is no other one for you either” you looked at him in the eyes through your lashes, pulling off your best sultry face, “you are mine too, say it” he was shuddering, loving the way you demanded his response, bossing him around from underneath him as if the one being fucked to the brim wasn’t you.

You had him so in the palm of your hand he wouldn’t mind you closing it and crush him, how could he answer anything else than that? “I am yours baby… fuck…” and that made you giggle.

“Thanks” you pecked his lips, hugging him around his neck, legs around his waist pushing him deeper and earning a low moan from him, “baby I really won’t last today”, and it was a given since you had been fucking each other really since the moment you sat on the sofa this afternoon, “so take it easy on me and behave yeah?” he was fucking you slow, the way he knew you liked it. The way he could fill you completely and leave no single untouched spot inside you. But also the only way he would be able to keep going for a while.

And just because you were dying to see him lose his mind completely were you determined to do everything you knew he loved at the same time. Pressing kisses all over his neck till you reached his earlobe and bit it, “I am behaving right? I am being so good today, what you gonna give me, hm?”

He was panting heavily, eyes shut, both his hands at each side of your head, the vision so good and his dick so deep you nearly started crying at the unbearable thrill.

But you decided to slowly move your arms down from his neck to interlace one of his hands with your own instead. Your other hand landed on your lips, tongue full of spit ready to coat your fingers in your saliva and leaving a string behind once you finished with the task, never breaking the eye contact.

Mingi couldn’t win against you being a dirty brat, but he had even less chances of winning against your hand going down where your bodies met to push one of your soaked fingers inside your cunt, stretching you even more but making it even tighter for him.

His jaw clenched and his eyes were silently asking you if you were being for fucking real right now. And oh my god you were, so for fucking real that you started moving your finger slowly inside you and rubbing his dick on your way, moaning loud and grabbing his hand tightly, needing to hold onto something for how good it was feeling for you too.

“Fuuuuuuuuck….” Fuck it, he really didn’t stand a chance from the beginning “I am gonna cum, where do you want it? Tell me babe I won’t last much more” he knew that you loved to feel his cum all over you and you were already trembling, so close yourself.

You couldn’t imagine him pulling out from you right now nor for too long, this past weeks without any intimate contact at all were working hard on you so you didn’t have to think it twice “mingi please… cum inside”

He could never have figured you would say that, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thought about how to answer.

“Raw baby?” He finally asked with a cry, just to make sure he was understanding it right “please…” your affirmation whisper froze him and made him almost nut on the spot.

He slowly carried on with the roll of his hips, struggling with the pace while the only thing on his mind was to piston fuck you into the bed after what you had asked him to do “you can’t say shit like that”. He was struggling, gritting his teeth and he really wanted to obey but you would regret this tomorrow, this had been said in the heat of the moment, or at least this is what he was telling himself in order not to breed you full.

But you blinked, you fucking innocently blinked pretending to be surprised, knowing how bad he wanted it and quickly slid your sticky hand out of your cunt and between your bodies to push him off and pull him out “but I can tho”.

In one swift motion and in a record time you took the condom off, tossed it somewhere on the floor and aligned his pulsing cock inside you again, painfully slowly sinking him in as you watched his face contort in pure ecstasy by the contact of your wet walls around him for the first time in months using protection.

Nothing could describe the way he felt about having you split open and raw underneath him, completely his to take. You put your arms around his neck, dragging him down to look him in the eyes again as you always liked to watch him when he reached his climax “now you can cum baby” your voice was merely a whisper, small but commanding “i will look so good with your cum dripping out later”.

And that was it. Something animalistic took over him and he started to move rougher, faster and more desperate than he ever had .

“Yeah?? You want to be full of my cum that bad??” His voice deep in the crook of your neck sending shivers through your whole body. Shit, you wanted to see his face!! but you were feeling so good at the way he thrusted into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit each time he went back inside, that you couldn’t be arsed complaining about it.

“Not enough with having me ballsdeep inside you that you also want to keep me there after I pull out??” He was testing the waters, trying to find out if he could say what he actually wanted to. But your loud moan at his words told him that he could carry on and so he did.

“You want me here?” you were far gone, dripping from your pussy to the bed and your skin burning, goosebumps all over and making the prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Never knew this would thrill him so much, but as his hand reached your belly, pressing down slightly and feeling himself moving in and out of you over your skin and going back to kiss you desperately he understood that no other raw pussy was ever gonna have him “you want me to get you pregnant tonight or what?”

Finally. He met your eyes just in time to see them roll back and flutter shut, your cry immediate “yes yes yes yes” you were begging, your cunt squeezing and sucking his cock in so hard it was getting difficult for him to slide out, seeing white ass stars as you came around him repeating his name since it was the only word you could remember.

The noises of your wet bodies crashing every time he thrusted inside you filling his ears and the warmth of your cum soaking his pelvis felt too good, “you drive me fucking insane” he growled and was now letting go, feeling you milk him dry and trembling in a pleasure he was sure he was going to get addicted to.

Cumming raw and inside after holding it in for so long only for you, he really wanted to see how your tummy grew big. “mingi…” he covered his nervous smile with your lips, still panting over your worn out body, never pulling out even after both of you came down from the shared orgasm.

Wait, “you are still hard??” you couldn’t believe it “give me another one babes, i know you can” there was nothing else in this world that had him in more bliss than your whole body response when you were cumming and he knew that nothing could ever compare to the way your walls hugged him perfectly, massaging his cock in ways nothing could do. He needed to feel it some more “you are having my kids no? we need to fill this up”. His words were going to turn you into burning ashes.

He started to move slowly again, the painful overstimulation not being enough to make him stop “but mingi I don’t think I can cum anymore” your eyebrows were beautifully frown and a tear was about to roll down your cheek when he suddenly flipped you over, you being still flush against his body but now on top of him. He fucking knew you loved being on top, completely able to adjust to his length and set your own pace. Watching him from above was one of your most personal moments.

You looked at him in disbelief, he was seriously going to play this game with you??? You straighten up, watching him dangerously challenging but still catching your breath. As soon as you leaned back and rolled your hips your thoughts about not being able to cum were already gone, his dick filling you up so good you couldn’t believe you ever said that.

You put one hand over his leg to balance yourself while grinding over his dick nice and slow “actually maybe I can…?” your other one gently reaching your belly and caressing it in a wide circle, your own touch giving you goosebumps, the gesture making him flinch at the thought of his cum inside you right where you were touching yourself, yours and his imagination going fucking wild.

He closed his eyes to savor each sensation you could pull out of him, hands running up your legs and landing on your hips to help you grind. But he really wanted to see you, so when he opened his eyes again you were still watching him, all the love you felt for him showing on your face and basically dancing on his lap, little moans escaping your mouth. His eyes on you were so raw and sincere it had you melting, a hot drop of your slick running down your boyfriends lap. How the fuck were you this lucky you didn’t know.

He was biting his bottom lip, all his feelings over the place. he loved you so much. And knowing you felt the same for him sometimes blew his mind “how am i so lucky?” you smiled at his words matching your exact thoughts, “look at me mingi, am I not lucky too?” he indeed looked at you, from your pretty face to your pretty hole sucking his cock, a husky moan leaving him.

He brought his hand to your pussy and split your lips open to watch how his cock disappeared inside you “fucking god…” he nearly came again at the sight of his release forming a ring around his base “I wish I could see this forever” and he could tell when you had a bright idea pop into your clever head, like right now.

You stopped for a second to reach out for your phone, your change of position making him pant and trying to hold you still. You popped the camera app on your screen and pressed record then offered it to him. Seriously, how was he so lucky? He was too horny to argue or question you so…

His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching you go back to moving gently on his dick but quickening your pace until you were sliding him out and bucking back in, jumping and moaning nonsenses. His dick felt so right inside you, so where it belonged to that you stopped thinking what you were saying, completely lovedrunk yourself.

“I love this dick” he groaned and struggled to keep the recording and it took everything in him to not throw the phone away and keep looking through the screen, “no one else is ever cumming inside me, I am all yours” you cried and threw your head back, letting out a high pitched moan as you sensed his free hand grip your hip tighter and buck up to meet your movements.

The hand where he was holding the phone completely trembling, the dirty feeling of this happening to him but also watching you getting fucked through anything that wasn’t his own eyes made it look like something nasty. And hell was he getting off to that shit, “mingi I am gonna…” “yeah, yeah please cum babychick, I am following”

Mingi had this rare gifted talent of making you cum as soon as he commanded, and so you did. The scream was loud from both parts, your pussy tightening harder than it ever had around him, not wanting him to ever leave that place “I am cumming inside again baby is that okay?” you couldn’t even manage to answer, your orgasm so hard it was lasting forever to go down, so you only nodded fervently as a yes.

All the edging and the overstimulation from earlier skyrocketing your sensitivity. It wasn’t easy for it to happen to you but it did this time and it was recorded forever for commemorative purposes; your pussy started to spray over everything reachable around you, all his torso drenched in your squirt, the camera lens soaked and the image blurry.

Fuck it, you didn’t need to save anything else. Mingi stopped the recording and tossed the phone somewhere over the bed, sat up straight to hug you while you were still crying out his name and started to thrust harsher from bellow.

You hugged him back, curling your legs around his waist to keep him as close as you could and started to kiss him desperately, no rhythm no attention, waiting for this rollercoaster climax to end. His movements were already unsteady due to his own incoming orgasm, calling your name and saying sweet praises into your mouth as the string finally snapped and he finished inside again, making your insides warm with his hot cum.

Once he calmed down he fell on his back over the bed, hugging you still over on top of him, totally worn out and suddenly cold after what you thought had been the best orgasm you’d had.

“shit” you sighed “it is so cold” mingi smiled, completely satisfied, “let me get a towel, I will clean this mess up” he reached down to get a sample of the said mess in his finger. You couldn’t help it and licked it without thinking, “baby… don’t go there again” he was being half serious, but his still inside cock twitched weakly. You laughed at him, “baby go get that towel, I am seriously cold”.

He slid out of you, leaving you to get the promised towel, both relieved and sad at the sudden emptiness in your cunt. But… wait, it is not that empty? Your cheeks burned beet red, remembering how you had been begging him to get you pregnant. How many kinks were you gonna collect with this guy?! Your hand moved by its own, trying to find its way to your slit.

As soon as you felt it in your fingers you couldn’t stop yourself, you were putting all the cum that dripped out back in, moaning quietly at the single thought of your belly full of him again.

“need any help with that?” you looked towards the door, he was leaning against its frame, towel in hand, his smile showing his front teeth that you loved so much. You had to smile back, “yeah?”

—

A/N: Hellooo haha this took me a while.

I know it was meant to be the continuation for Say it like you mean it, but it has been so long already (two whole years to be exact) that I found no joy in these characters anymore. And as much as I tried to start them over again (seriously I had like 9 drafts about them) it always ended up being just not too good. I really wanted to give them a hot and steamy (and really long wtf) chance with this one. I think my writing got better too (not posting at all but still writing), even if english is not my mother language and therefore I am a bit limited!

I would like to improve some more for the next one, which will also be set on mingi & the chick since i am biased and i kinda got attached to some of the topics I was writing about in Say it like you mean it. So for now we have this one, but possibly the next one will fiiiiinally be SILYMI part.2? When? Who knows, no one when it comes to me i am afraid.

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed. Comments are welcome ♡

[theodorenmyth]

Hi!!

Just wanted to start off by saying I love your writing and hope you're doing well! Also no pressure to write this fic!

I was wondering if you could do a fic where mattheo has a hufflepuff!sibling and no one really knows that they're related and when everyone finds out they're all like "WHAT!?!"

Secret Siblings

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle & GN!reader (slight Cedric Diggory x GN!reader

Summary ; No one knew you were Mattheo Riddle’s sibling until he accidentally revealed it at breakfast. The entire school was shocked, with Pansy furious, Theo pointing out Mattheo’s protectiveness, and the professors struggling to restore order. Mattheo, however, found the chaos amusing while you were absolutely done with him.

A/N ; this was so funny in my head, enjoy :3

Warnings ; none

Word count ; 3.4k+

If there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was the fact that no one at Hogwarts knew you were Mattheo Riddle’s sibling.

You had spent years ensuring it stayed that way. It wasn’t that you were ashamed—well, maybe a little—but Mattheo had a reputation. The fights, the detentions, the way he and his Slytherin friends ruled the school like they were untouchable. Meanwhile, you were… well, you. A Hufflepuff through and through, more interested in helping first-years find their way around than getting into fights in the Astronomy Tower.

It wasn’t like you and Mattheo hated each other either. In fact, in private, you got along pretty well. He was protective in the way older brothers were, making sure no one messed with you while also respecting your need for space. It was an unspoken agreement—he did his thing, you did yours, and no one at Hogwarts needed to know you shared blood.

At least, that was the plan.

You remembered the first time you arrived at Hogwarts, sitting in the Great Hall as the Sorting Hat was placed on your head. You’d felt Mattheo’s eyes burning into you from the Slytherin table, silently willing you to join him. But when the hat cheerfully announced, "Hufflepuff!", the look on his face had been nothing short of hilarious.

Later that night, he had pulled you aside.

“Hufflepuff? Seriously?” he had asked, arms crossed.

You had shrugged. “What’s wrong with Hufflepuff?”

Mattheo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not wrong, it’s just… unexpected.”

That was the first and last time you discussed it. From then on, it was an unspoken rule: in public, you weren’t related. You didn’t acknowledge each other unless necessary, and no one questioned it because—well, who would suspect that the hotheaded, sharp-tongued Slytherin had a sibling as patient and kind as you?

Sure, there had been close calls. That one time in your second year when Mattheo had hexed a Ravenclaw who had insulted you, or the time in fourth year when you’d patched him up after he got into a fight, and Theo Nott had almost walked in on you both.

But for five years, the secret had held.

Until today.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

It started at breakfast.

You were sitting with your usual group of Hufflepuffs, laughing about something Cedric Diggory had said, when a commotion at the Slytherin table caught your attention.

Mattheo was on his feet, eyes burning with fury as he grabbed a younger Slytherin by the collar.

“You think you can just talk about my family like that?” Mattheo growled, his voice carrying across the Great Hall.

The younger student stammered, clearly regretting whatever words had left his mouth. The entire room was now watching, intrigued by the outburst.

“Mattheo,” Draco muttered, placing a hand on his friend’s arm. “Let it go.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened, but after a moment, he shoved the kid back into his seat. The tension slowly dissipated as people turned back to their breakfasts, whispering about what had just happened.

You, however, had frozen mid-bite.

He said ‘my family.’

You had a very, very bad feeling about this.

But maybe—just maybe—people wouldn’t notice. Maybe they’d assume he was talking about his parents, or some long-lost relative, or something entirely unrelated to you. You glanced around, scanning the students at your table. No one was looking at you weirdly. No one seemed to have connected the dots.

Yet.

“Damn,” one of your housemates muttered, eyes still flickering toward the Slytherin table. “Mattheo’s really got a temper.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” another Hufflepuff snorted. “I swear, that guy wakes up angry.”

“Did you hear what that kid said to him?” a third chimed in. “It must’ve been bad for him to go off like that.”

You kept your head down, focusing on your toast. Maybe if you acted normal, no one would—

“So,” Cedric’s voice broke through your thoughts, too casual for your liking, “who do you think Mattheo meant by ‘my family’?”

Your hand twitched.

“Probably his parents,” one of the Hufflepuff girls replied. “Everyone knows his dad’s—you know.”

You risked a glance toward the Slytherin table. Mattheo was still standing, breathing heavily, eyes flickering toward you for a split second before looking away.

He knew what he’d done.

You wanted to strangle him.

Cedric hummed, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, maybe. Or…” His gaze slid toward you, sharp and calculating. “Could be someone else.”

You gave him your best blank stare. “Why are you looking at me?”

“I don’t know,” Cedric said, smiling like he absolutely did know. “You just look suspicious.”

“I always look suspicious.”

“That’s true,” another Hufflepuff agreed, nodding. “You’ve got a very ‘secret double life’ kind of face.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it, though?” Cedric grinned. “Because I think Mattheo just gave us something very interesting to think about.”

You groaned, shoving the rest of your toast into your mouth before standing up. “I’m leaving.”

“See?” Cedric laughed. “Suspicious behavior.”

You ignored him, walking as fast as you could out of the Great Hall.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You were proven right about an hour later when you were leaving Charms and found yourself cornered by a group of curious Gryffindors.

Seamus Finnigan was the first to speak, eyes wide with disbelief. “Oi, Y/N, is it true?”

You blinked. “Is what true?”

Dean Thomas scoffed. “Oh, come on, don’t play dumb. We all heard Mattheo this morning.”

Your stomach dropped. “Uh…”

“Are you actually related to Mattheo Riddle?” Lavender Brown cut in, looking positively giddy.

You forced a nervous laugh. “You know, I suddenly remembered that I—uh—left my Potions essay in the common room. Gotta go—”

Before you could take a single step, Seamus grabbed your arm. “Oh no, you don’t! We need answers.”

Damn it.

You tried to keep a neutral expression. “Look, I don’t know where you’re getting these ridiculous ideas, but—”

“Mattheo literally said ‘my family,’” Dean interrupted. “And unless he considers some first-year a long-lost cousin, we can put two and two together.”

You swallowed hard. “I mean… family is a broad term, you know? Found family, distant family, metaphorical family—”

“Oh my Merlin,” Lavender gasped dramatically. “IT’S TRUE, ISN’T IT?”

“NO!” you said way too quickly. “I mean—no, as in, I really have to be somewhere. Right now. Urgent meeting. Important business. Secret mission. Goodbye!”

And before anyone could stop you, you spun on your heel and bolted down the corridor.

“GET BACK HERE!” Seamus yelled, but you didn’t dare slow down.

You turned a corner sharply, nearly knocking over a group of Ravenclaws.

“Hey, watch it—oh, wait, Y/N!” Anthony Goldstein called out. “You’re Mattheo Riddle’s sibling?!”

You let out a strangled noise that wasn’t quite a yes or a no and kept running.

You thought you were in the clear until you ran straight into Cedric near the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

“Whoa, slow down there!” Cedric steadied you, his eyebrows raised. “Where’s the fire?”

“No time—gotta go—” you huffed, trying to sidestep him.

Cedric squinted at you, then tilted his head. “Wait a second. Are the rumors true? About you and Mattheo?”

Your eyes darted around, searching for an escape. “What rumors? Who said that? I mean, what’s a rumor, really? A social construct? A—LOOK OVER THERE!”

You pointed dramatically in a random direction.

Cedric, being the nice, trusting Hufflepuff that he was, actually turned to look.

And you took off.

“Y/N!” Cedric called after you, but you were already sprinting toward the Grand Staircase.

You were nearly home free until—

“Y/N!”

Oh, for the love of—

You skidded to a stop as none other than Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“I thought I saw you running around like a lunatic,” Theodore drawled, looking mildly amused. “Tell me, why exactly is the entire school suddenly interested in you?”

Blaise crossed his arms. “Yeah, and why did I just hear a fourth-year say that Mattheo Riddle has a secret Hufflepuff sibling?”

Your face twitched. “...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow.

Theodore smirked. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I hate this school.”

“Mm,” Blaise hummed. “That doesn’t answer the question, though.”

“I—uh—have to get to class.”

Theodore deadpanned. “It’s lunchtime.”

Damn it.

“Uh—detention?” you tried.

Blaise smirked. “With who?”

“Uh… Snape?”

Theodore chuckled. “Snape’s in his office right now. I just saw him.”

“I have to go… feed my bunny?”

“You don’t have an bunny.” Blaise pointed out.

You groaned. “FORGET IT, I’M LEAVING.”

You tried to run, but Theodore casually stuck out a foot and tripped you. You stumbled forward, cursing under your breath.

“Okay, okay!” you snapped, regaining your balance. “I just don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

Theodore and Blaise exchanged glances before Theodore shrugged. “Fair enough. But you do know Mattheo’s going to get an earful from us, right?”

You just groaned and stormed away from the duo.

Mattheo was gonna get a piece of your mind.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

By lunch, it felt like the entire school was staring at you.

Whispers followed you down the corridors, louder than usual, and students weren’t even trying to be subtle about it anymore.

“There’s no way—”

“A Riddle? In Hufflepuff? HOW?”

“Are they, like, adopted?”

“Maybe they were switched at birth.”

“WAIT. Maybe they’re, like, some undercover assassin for the Dark Lord.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers against your temples. It was getting worse.

After what felt like an eternity of being gawked at like some zoo animal, you finally found Mattheo leaning against a pillar in the courtyard, looking far too smug for someone who had just single-handedly ruined your peaceful existence.

“You absolute buffoon.” You stomped toward him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

Mattheo blinked innocently. “Me? Whatever do you mean?”

You gaped at him. “WHATEVER DO YOU MEAN?! THE WHOLE SCHOOL KNOWS, YOU MENACE. I CAN’T WALK TEN STEPS WITHOUT SOMEONE POINTING AT ME LIKE I’M A DAMN RARE CREATURE.”

He smirked. “Well, technically, you are rare. A Hufflepuff Riddle? That’s practically an anomaly.”

You threw your hands in the air dramatically. “I LIKED NOT BEING ASSOCIATED WITH YOU.”

Mattheo clutched his chest in mock heartbreak. “That wounds me, dearest sibling. Truly.”

You ignored his theatrics. “No, seriously, do you understand what you’ve done? I’ve spent years—YEARS—building a life here where I wasn’t known as Mattheo Riddle’s poor, unfortunate sibling, and you ruined it in under five seconds.”

Mattheo hummed, tilting his head. “Five seconds is quite impressive, really.”

You groaned, pacing in front of him. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Nooo,” he drawled, grinning. “You love me. I’m your amazing, handsome, overprotective, wonderful older brother, and you’re honored to be related to me.”

You inhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temples. “I’m going to commit a crime.”

Mattheo patted your head patronizingly. “Aw, you’re so cute when you’re mad.”

Before you could bite back a snarky response, a group of Ravenclaw students walked by, eyes narrowing in suspicion as they caught sight of you and Mattheo interacting.

“Wait a second,” one of them muttered, nudging their friend. “Are they actually—like, actually—siblings?”

The other student squinted. “There’s no way.”

A Gryffindor passing by heard this and immediately gasped. “Holy shit. They do look kind of alike. What if it’s true?”

“Shhh,” another hissed. “They’ll hear you.”

You plastered on the most forced, awkward smile in history and turned toward the suspicious group.

“Ha! Siblings? Us? What a—what a funny thought,” you said, voice unnaturally high. “Haha. Me and Mattheo Riddle? Pfft. Noooo. That’s crazy. What a—what a wild conspiracy theory. You guys should—uh—write a book about it. Haha.”

The Ravenclaws did not look convinced.

Mattheo, for his part, simply rolled his eyes at you, looking absolutely done with your existence.

“Real subtle,” he muttered under his breath.

You shot him a glare before turning back to the growing audience. “Uh—anyway! Gotta go! I left a—a cauldron burning in the potions classroom! Haha. Silly me!”

Then, grabbing Mattheo by the sleeve, you yanked him out of the courtyard before you could humiliate yourself further.

Once you were safely out of earshot, you whirled on him.

“DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS?! NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR STUPID FRIENDS, AND THE GOSSIP, AND PEOPLE QUESTIONING MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE. IT’S GOING TO TAKE YEARS TO REPAIR THE DAMAGE YOU’VE DONE.”

Mattheo shrugged. “Or you could just embrace it.”

“Embrace it?” You let out a near-hysterical laugh. “EMBRACE IT?! DO I LOOK LIKE I WANT TO BE A PART OF WHATEVER THIS IS?” You waved vaguely in his direction.

“Come on, it’s not so bad,” he said, still entirely too relaxed.

You gasped dramatically. “NOT SO BAD?! WAIT TILL MUM AND DAD HEARS ABOUT THIS.”

For the first time, Mattheo’s smirk faltered.

“You wouldn’t.”

You grinned, hands on your hips. “Oh, I would. And I will. And do you know what’s going to happen? Mum’s going to lecture you for hours about how you should respect my privacy, and then Dad’s going to give you that look—you know the one—and you’re going to feel so guilty that you’ll regret ever opening your stupid mouth at breakfast today.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes. “You fight dirty.”

You smirked. “I learned from the best.”

For a second, he studied you, weighing his options. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he held up his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered. “I’ll try to make this whole thing less of a big deal.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Define ‘less of a big deal."

“I’ll stop actively encouraging the chaos.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “That’s not nearly enough.”

“It’s the best you’re going to get.”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Nooo,” he said, ruffling your hair. “You loooove me.”

You batted his hand away, grumbling as he laughed.

The damage was already done, and you had no doubt that Hogwarts would still be reeling for weeks, but if nothing else, you had successfully put the fear of mum and dad into Mattheo.

And that, at least, was a small victory.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You should have known walking into the Great Hall with Mattheo was a mistake.

The second the two of you stepped through the doors—side by side, clearly together—the entire room went silent. Forks clattered, conversations died, and then—

“YOU’RE RELATED TO MATTHEO RIDDLE?!”

The voice echoed through the hall like someone had just announced Voldemort’s return.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you muttered under your breath.

Suddenly, people were standing up, pointing at you like you were some newly discovered magical creature.

“No way!” a Gryffindor shouted.

“A Hufflepuff? A HUFFLEPUFF?” another voice shrieked from the Ravenclaw table.

“Wait, wait—how do we know this isn’t some elaborate prank?” Ernie Macmillan questioned, looking genuinely disturbed.

Across the room, the Gryffindor table was in utter chaos.

“Wait—hold on—WHAT?!” Ron Weasley nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, eyes bulging as he looked between you and Mattheo.

Harry Potter looked equally stunned, glasses slipping down his nose. “No—no way. You’re joking, right?”

Hermione Granger, for the first time in probably ever, was speechless. “This… this can’t be right,” she said, shaking her head as if that would make reality change. “There’s no way—”

“OH MY GOD, IT’S TRUE.” Ron grabbed Harry’s arm, gasping dramatically. “This is the biggest plot twist since we found out Scabbers was a middle-aged man.”

Pansy was the first to react from the Slytherin table, standing up so fast her goblet nearly toppled over. “MATTY, WHAT THE FUCK?” she screeched, rounding on Mattheo, who—shockingly—looked completely at ease, casually biting into an apple like this wasn’t the most shocking revelation since Dumbledore’s questionable sock obsession.

Mattheo merely raised a brow at her outburst. “What?”

Pansy gawked at him. “You—you—you’re telling me that for years, you’ve had a sibling at this school and you just forgot to mention it?”

Mattheo shrugged. “Didn’t forget. Just didn’t care to share.”

Pansy’s shriek of rage was so high-pitched that even the ghosts looked unsettled. “DIDN’T CARE TO SHARE?!”

Blaise was watching the chaos unfold with a smirk, lazily sipping his pumpkin juice. “This is hilarious.”

Draco, on the other hand, was rubbing his temples like he was getting a migraine. “Mattheo, why?”

“Why what?” Mattheo replied, unbothered. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?”

Lorenzo Berkshire repeated, eyes flickering between you and Mattheo. “You’ve been throwing punches at anyone who so much as looked at them funny, and you thought that wouldn’t raise questions?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Mattheo said.

You threw your hands up. “OBVIOUS?! OBVIOUS?! MATTY, I HAVE SPENT YEARS MAKING SURE NO ONE KNEW, AND YOU BLEW IT IN TEN SECONDS OVER BREAKFAST!”

Mattheo snorted, completely unapologetic. “I mean, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Oh my God, I want to strangle you.”

“Sibling love,” he said smugly, tossing an arm around your shoulders.

The Great Hall exploded again.

“You two actually act like siblings—”

“How did we not see this?!”

“I feel like I’m living in an alternate universe,” muttered a Ravenclaw.

Across the room, Neville Longbottom was sitting completely frozen, still holding his fork mid-air. “I think I need to sit down.”

“You’re already sitting,” Seamus pointed out.

“Then I need to lie down.”

Dean looked at you, utterly baffled. “You mean to tell me that Hogwarts’ most violent menace has been related to the softest, most polite Hufflepuff this entire time?”

Mattheo scoffed. “Oi, don’t act like they’re innocent.” He turned to you. “Tell them about the time you hexed that fifth-year for insulting your friend.”

The entire Hufflepuff table gasped in betrayal.

“You WHAT?” Susan Bones shrieked, looking at you like you’d just confessed to murder.

You groaned. “Mattheo, shut up.”

Pansy still wasn’t over the betrayal. “I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME.”

“Why do you care so much?” Mattheo asked, unimpressed.

“BECAUSE I TELL YOU EVERYTHING, YOU ARSE.”

The professors were desperately trying to regain order, but it was not working. Even McGonagall looked exasperated, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was debating retirement.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was chuckling into his goblet like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen in years.

Mattheo turned to you with an amused grin. “Well, now they know.”

You stared at him, seething. “You are the worst.”

He smirked. “Love you too, little sibling.”

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

By the time lunch was over, you were exhausted. The whispers, the stares, the relentless questioning—it was too much. You barely managed to escape the Great Hall before someone else could interrogate you.

Unfortunately, your luck didn’t last long.

Before you could get far, a firm arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a familiar warmth.

“For a Hufflepuff,” Cedric Diggory murmured next to your ear, his voice dripping with amusement, “you really had a dramatic reveal.”

You groaned. “Oh, not you too.”

Cedric grinned, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Come on, how could I not comment? The Great Hall was in shambles. I think I saw a first-year question their entire existence.”

You sighed, leaning into him slightly for comfort. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“Oh?” Cedric raised a brow. “So you were planning to tell me at some point?”

“...No.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating against you. “Figured.” Then, in a much more mischievous tone, he added, “At least now we know why Mattheo always looked ready to hex me whenever I flirted with you.”

You stiffened.

Wait.

What?

Cedric pulled back slightly, watching as your brain short-circuited. “Oh? You didn’t know?”

You stared at him in horror. “Cedric. What the hell are you talking about?"

Cedric just smirked. “Mattheo glares a lot, but I always wondered why his hexing hand twitched whenever I got too close to you.”

Your soul left your body.

“Diggory,” you said slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. “How many times have you flirted with me in front of Mattheo?”

He hummed, pretending to think. “Dunno. Ten? Twenty? Maybe more?”

You buried your face on Cedric's shoulder. “Oh my God.”

Cedric chuckled, giving your waist one last playful squeeze before finally stepping away. “You should probably talk to him before he decides to challenge me to a duel.”

“Cedric,” you groaned, already feeling a headache coming.

But Cedric just winked and strolled off like he hadn’t just shattered your entire existence.

Meanwhile, across the courtyard, Mattheo was watching.

And judging by the way his jaw clenched when Cedric touched you, you were about to have a very long conversation with your brother.

[celuere]

OMG- I REALLY WANT TO SEE ALRECCHINO COMING BACK FROM A MISSION TO FIND READER WEARING HER JACKET!

DEAR LORD YES (finally getting to some fucking OLD asks i am so sorry please don’t beat me💔)

cw: mentions of strap

you tugged the whiter-silver fabric around your chest, turning slightly to the side to get a better look of yourself in the mirror.

it was a little too big on you, especially around your arms but…

your husbands jacket looked a little too good on you.

you originally wanted to get changed for bed. it has been long, dreadful day and arlecchino was called into an emergency meeting at zapolyarny palace from which she will probably only return late into the night. you just happened to stumble over the expensive piece of clothing while searching for your nightgown, your body already stripped of anything but your lacy slip.

she wasn’t here to witness it anyway, so you took the liberty and slipped into her attire. to be honest , the fabric was a lot more heavier than you expected it to be.

and her signature scent of a good cologne mixed with the smell of burning cinder clung to it like a sweet dream.

„so this is my what my wife has been up to when i‘m not present. interesting.“

but all dreams must come to an end.

you were so deeply wrapped into your own thoughts that you didn’t notice her leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom. the sleeves of her shirt neatly rolled up, putting her curse on full display.

you almost screamed a little when she startled you, trying to somehow cover up your bare chest which was only met by a click of her tongue.

„i have seen and touched every single inch of your body over countless of times already. covering up will do little for me, darling.“, something between your legs started to ache at her sultry tone that was accompanied by the slight upward tilt of her lips.

she gestured with a nod of her head to your shared bed, „be so kind and let me have a… closer look over there. will you?“

you didn’t miss how her eyes darted over to her nightstand.

hopefully you were in the mood for seven inches inside your cunt.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 23

So ch 25 will be the Bruce thingy- have fun with this one 🥹

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 23 >>next(TBC)

“That’s an insane thing to ask out of me.” You raised an eyebrow at the two men sitting before you. “Sounds like fun. I’ll do it.” Lex just raised an eyebrow as you shrugged. “Just like that? No ‘how dare you dicks do something so stupidly suicidal’, no ‘I should put you both in my pocket dimensions for eternity’ just- I’ll do it?” Slade huffed. “Have you never heard of don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“I don’t know how you were raised, Wilson, but she and I are street kids. Nothing comes for free.” Your laugh drew the men’s attention. “Cynical. But the truth. I need the distraction after what happened to mom… and I want a small favor in exchange. Have y’all ever been on the Justice League’s space station?” The men glanced at each other before leaning in closer to you, their interest piqued. “No.”

“You’re about to be.” You nod towards the wall behind Lex, the one made of just glass. Your unimpressed look stuck on the second Superman, flexing and making faces. Kon-El stopped only when he turned around and saw Luthor's ashamed look and the unmoved faces of you and the other man.

Lex sighed and pressed a button, a panel of glass going down to allow the young man inside. And the young adult was quick to introduce himself. “-between us, I’m the better Superman.” Kon puffed his chest, forgetting for a moment why he was so willing to be close to Lex. “I prefer Bizarro.” The reply earned a stammer from Kon while Slade hid the amused smile behind his glass. “I take it the JL has agreed?” The young man cleared his throat. “Uh- yes. Tomorrow night at 5, so that everyone has a clear schedule and will be there.”

“Good. Tell them I’ll bring company, and to hold their shit to themselves until after the meeting.” You get up as Kon starts talking again. “You know, Jon talked quite a bit about you, and mom would love to see you again, and I heard you like animals- My grandparents got these fluffy cows, they’re real cute-“ He stopped when a flash of a green light and the sound of a door opening appeared, his eyes barely catching Slade leave and not even noticing where the light came from.

“Wha- where’d she go?” Kon turns and asks Lex. “Just missed your opportunity, smooth operator.” Lex rolled his eyes. “Some word of advice-“ Kon snorted at that, lifting off the ground. “From you? Never.” And just like that, the young man was gone too, leaving his creator pouting.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Damian had barely walked inside the manor before his father and Tim, alongside Jason, accosted him. Granted, the teen wasn’t listening to his father; his glare was instead glued to Drake and Todd's snickering forms. Smirking as the others came to see what was happening, his eyes locked with Grayson’s.

“I didn’t come back empty-handed, father. I have information you wouldn’t be able to find on the internet.” Bruce’s jaw clenched at that, but he was interested. “And Talia?” Damian just raised an eyebrow. “She’s a grown woman, vaccinated, I’m sure she’s doing just fine wherever she is.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You yell while diving straight for Talia, who jumped off a skyscraper. The woman simply smiled as you wrapped your arms around her, slowly coming to a stop so you wouldn’t snap her neck. “Perhaps. But you caught me, and I have what I wanted. Your undivided attention.” Talia wraps her arm around your shoulders.

She doesn’t let you speak, smirking at your twitching eye. “I won’t let you get rid of me just because my son made a mistake, a grave one, sure, but a mistake. I grew attached to you and your family in the short time we have known each other, and I won’t let go so easily.”

She was as crazy as she was beautiful. “Lady-“ and she shushed you. “I won’t go anywhere until you accept the fact that you can’t get rid of me.” Maybe you should take Lex up on that family vacation, you definitely needed it. Your mom definitely did after that Levy fucker. You take a deep breath in, exhaling softly. “You’re lucky I have to be somewhere in a few hours and don’t have the time to argue.” You mumble and start flying towards her apartment, ignoring the way she smiled so smugly.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everyone in the meeting room of the JL's space station seemed to quiet down once Batman crashed into his chair, hands covering his face as the smug Red Hood smiled brighter than ever. It was a terrifying sight. “ ’Ello there, Batsy… You good?” John Constantine asked, the only one brave enough to ask.

The bat man dragged his hands down his face, letting them dangle over his knees. “Sorceress may be dating Deathstroke and Luthor at the same time.” The chaos his words brought only made Jason happier. “My condolences-“ Diana was quickly cut off by Richard Grayson, who finally processed what the older man said. “No- You’re lying, it's not a funny joke B. We've been through this, you're not quite funny-” Denial. His smile was bright, but his eyes were dead inside. “Our sister knows better than to associate with that little-“ Anger. “Does she? Unless Slade told her she wouldn’t, because we sure as hell didn’t tell her that. By the way, look at this one- they’re so cute together.”

Jason knew he was pushing it with the photo of you holding Lex on your shoulder and Slade under your arm, face unimpressed as the men seemed to be pouting while Mark was dealing with some monster behind your form. “No. No- it’s- she’s just doing a job- or it’s mind control-“ Bargaining. “Oh my god- we fucked her up mentally so bad she’s seeking the attention we didn’t give her in old men.” Dick cried. Depression. His gaze raised to the smug Jailbird. “You’re a liar- you liar-liar pants on fire!” Acceptance- oh… Never mind, we’re back to denial.

“He must be lying.” Damian’s voice was heard through the coms, the boy having been grounded until further notice. “She likes the drama and to annoy them, she would never think of such an atrocity… I refuse to believe she has such low standards.” Of course, Jason was lying. But he had accomplices that would make the family question reality.

Speaking of, a green portal opened a few feet away from the Justice League members. The first one to walk through was you. “A few important people to the mission are about to come through. I expect you all to meet them with no threats, just like they will.” You didn’t let them finish, starting to introduce. “This is the director of the Global Defense Agency, Cecil Stedman.”

“Allen of Unopa, a representative of the Coalition of Planets, and Thaedus, the founder of the Coalition of Planets.” Allen was quick to smile and greet everyone while you smile softly as Mark stepped through. “And, of course, my brother, Invincible, and my father, Omni-Man.” Some members tensed as Nolan stepped through the portal. “And Lex Luthor and Deathstroke? Was that it?” Slade nodded, taking your left while Lex stood at your right. Dick was ready to crash out, his fingers itching for a fight. “I understand why they are here.” Hawkman grunted, nodding to the other before turning his glare to Slade and Luthor. “But what relevance do they have in all of this?”

“That’s a piece of information to give the next time. We’re still working to see if the information given checks out.” Your response was as professional as it could be, not giving away anything before shrugging. “And maybe I need a piece of eye candy from time to time since I have to deal with you lot.” Jason could cry with happiness as the rest of the bats crashed into their chairs. It was evil what you two had come up with- well, what he came up with and what you, and the others played along with just because you were bored. Another man came through, followed by yet another man and woman. “And this is Harvey Dent.” Your hand moved to the two behind him. “Tucker Garnet and Jessica Lament, our legal team.”

“In exchange for your help with re-introducing Omni-Man to Earth, we’re willing to share what we know about the Viltrumites and how to stop them. Even offer some help dealing with the little traitor you have running around.” Cecil redirected the attention when he saw Red Robin raise his hand toward the assassin, ready to complain as well. “They’ve been dealt with. Intergalactic prison.” Hal Jordan shrugs. “Right…” Harvey mumbled before clearing his throat. “Here are the papers you need to sign before we talk.”

“What reassurance do we have that you do know how to deal with the Viltrumites? You have one on your side, how will that amount to anything when an army of thousands will come?” At the questions posed by Red Robin, Thaedus was quick to speak up. “He’s not the only Viltrumite that changed sides. And he isn’t the first.” He stepped forward. “I was the first one to rebel against the empire. I was the one who killed the first Viltrumite Emperor, Argall. I founded the Coalition of Planets specifically to fight against the empire.”

“And you’re wrong in your assumption. Their propaganda may have spread far and wide, but the plague wiped most of us out. There’s less than 50 remaining Viltrumites.” Nolan continued. His eyes slowly turned towards his kids as he rested his hand on your shoulder, a proud smile taking over him. “Maybe three less.” Bruce frowned at the insinuation and at the smug smirk that grew on your face. First Joker and now some Viltrumites… would you have been different if he was the father you deserved? He straightened at the thought. Of course, you would have been- this- you being so okay with murder is due to Nolan’s indoctrination, he was sure of it. Well… He was deluding himself to believe that.

“Oh- how nice, we have words-“ Cecil quickly interrupted Hawkman. “You have the only thing that will save your public image. Sign the damn papers so we all can get what we want. Us more allies against the genociders and you keeping the image of the good guys.”  Duke is the first one to get up and grab a paper, with Stephanie and Cassandra quickly following. In the end, everyone did.

✩₊˚.��☾⋆⁺₊✧

It’s been hours of debriefing for both Nolan’s reintroduction and the information of Viltrumites, mainly correcting the deeply embedded propaganda they took as fact. You were tired. So tired. Mainly of how Dick looked at you like a hurt little puppy.

Granted, Lex saved you with a nudge, showing you the time. “Well, I’m sure you all can carry on without us. We have to be present for our reservations.” You smile as you get up from your seat. “A reservation is more important than-“ You quickly frowned as you glared at Superman. “If you dare stop me from spending time with my boos at The Ritz I’ll bite your head off.”

As you three left, Jason hid his laugh behind a cough. Now, while the bat crew cringed at the use of endearment, Nightwing was straight up losing it. The man gagged audibly, sliding down the chair to his knees before curling up on the floor, shaking. “Isn’t the Ritz closed at this hour?” Diana’s question made the man shudder at the thought, immediately getting back to his knees to grab at Batman. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.” Richard hissed, shaking the man. Kon, decided to get up and move to the other side of the room, to stretch his legs. No other reason. “I don’t know man.” Jason started up, mixing the pot as he smiled under his mask. “It’s kind of cute she calls them her boos.” Dick gagged once more, crumbling to the ground with a whimper. “My birdie- my innocent baby sis-“

Batman could only watch as his oldest started crying- or maybe just hyperventilating, he wasn’t quite sure. “I second Richard.” The older man could only sigh as Damian’s voice cracked through the coms. He… He dreaded the thought that, perhaps, letting go of his no-killing rule would be beneficial. His eyes drifted to Nolan and Mark, who decided to pick up a conversation with Jason. Maybe…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“You lied to them so easily. You’re a terrible liar, usually.” Lex brought up as he changed from his costume to a more space-appropriate suit as Slade did the same. “I’m a terrible liar if I have to come up with something on barely a second, give me a minute or a whole day, and I’ll have a whole story made up.” You shrug.

“Have you ever lied to us like that?” Slade couldn’t help the curiosity that shone through. “What would I gain from that? Lex gives me money when I just straight up ask, and you bring me trinkets from your missions without me even having to mention it. There’s literally no use for me to lie.”

Lex came out with his space suit helmet in hand. “Did you have to call us your boos?” You just smirked. “It was the cringier option. I’m more of ‘my heart’ type of endearment.” Slade looked at you with a smirk on his smug mug. “Is that what you called Giganta on your very short-lived escapade?”

“How about we don’t talk about that?” Lex tutted at your failed diversion. “Aw, did she break your heart?” You gave the bald man a blank stare. “I will throw you into a black hole.” He just laughed.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince @swanluver @ohnoivefallen

[bananasplit133]

Yoo, just like everyone else, I have been STARVED for conquest fics, saw yours and cried of joy! I loved it so much!

I couldn't figure out if you do requests or not but if you do could I pretty please ask for one where mark somehow convinces conquest about the helping humanity and blah blah blah, cut to where conquest and mark are in the gda doing tests and something where the reader works as a hero analyst for Cecil or something and meets conquest during one of the strength tests and is struck by love at sight?

Sorry for my shitty explanations and stuff, it's a rough idea I've had for a long time and wouldn't mind any tweaks you make to it, no pressure of course! And keep up the good work!

Hi, anon! I loved this idea, thank you for requesting it. :D (I hope you'll enjoy this story just as much as the previous one!!! Sorry if i didnt write some things correctly, i might've misunderstood a few things)

Not Yet

Conquest x Reader

(Scene opens in the GDA testing facility, where Conquest and Mark are undergoing strength tests. The reader, a hero analyst working for Cecil, is observing.)

-----

The first time you saw him, you thought you were going to die.

Not because he attacked you—no, Conquest barely acknowledged your existence at first—but because the sheer weight of his presence alone was suffocating.

The GDA facility walls trembled with every impact of his blows against Invincible, the reinforced testing chambers barely containing the raw destruction. Conquest fought without hesitation, unrelenting, unstoppable. A force of nature disguised as an old man. He moved like war itself, every motion efficient, brutal, and unmerciful.

Yet you weren’t afraid. Not in the way you should have been.

Instead, you were… captivated.

It was absurd. You knew it was absurd. This was a being who had razed civilizations, whose hands were stained with so much blood that history itself bent beneath his conquests. He had no kindness, no remorse. Only purpose.

And yet, as he stood there, his breathing even, his single eye sweeping the facility with cold calculation, something within you stirred.

Perhaps it was the way he held himself—proud, ancient, and unyielding. Or maybe it was the way he regarded the world, as if everything in it was either an obstacle to be crushed or something too insignificant to bother with. But for the first time in your career, you found yourself unable to simply analyze the scene before you. You felt something dangerous—curiosity.

Your pen hovered over your clipboard, and before you even realized it, your voice cut through the post-battle silence.

“You’re holding back.”

Conquest’s head snapped toward you, his eye locking onto yours with the force of a hammer blow. The other agents stiffened, stepping back instinctively, but you held your ground, pulse thrumming against your throat.

“What did you say?” His voice was low, rough, like distant thunder.

“You’re holding back,” you repeated, firmer this time. “I’ve analyzed hundreds of fights, studied every high-tier threat that’s walked through these doors. That wasn’t you at full strength.”

A slow, amused huff left him. “Clever little thing, aren’t you?”

Your grip on the clipboard tightened. “It’s my job.”

“And yet you stand before me, speaking as if you are not prey addressing a predator.” He took a step forward, the air itself seeming to bow under his presence. “Tell me, what makes you so bold?”

You could feel every gaze in the room on you. Mark looked vaguely concerned, Cecil watched with veiled intrigue, and the guards gripped their weapons like they were ready to drag your corpse away at any second.

But you refused to waver.

“Because I know monsters,” you said plainly. “And you… You’re something worse.”

Something flickered in his eye. Interest. Just for a second.

Then, he chuckled. It was a deep, unsettling sound, like bones grinding together. “Perhaps you are not as insignificant as I thought.”

-----

Days passed. Then weeks.

You kept observing. Kept talking to him. At first, it was just another part of your job—gathering data, deciphering his behavior, understanding how a mind like his worked. But somewhere along the way, it became more.

Conquest did not entertain fools. He did not waste words on the weak. And yet, he answered your questions. Not all of them, not directly, but enough that it became clear: he found you amusing.

You learned the way his eye would narrow when you pressed too far, how his mouth would twitch when your words held a particular bite. You learned his philosophy, his unwavering belief in strength above all else. And he… learned you.

“You ask too many questions,” he mused one day, arms crossed as he loomed over you.

“You give too few answers.”

“I do not waste words on those who do not deserve them.”

“Then why answer me?”

Silence. Then, a smirk. “Because you are bold. I wonder how long it will take for that boldness to be crushed.”

“You seem very invested in watching me break.”

His eye gleamed, something dark curling at the edges of his smirk. “I enjoy watching things fall apart.”

You should have been terrified.

Instead, you felt your heart pound for an entirely different reason.

---

It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t even admiration. It was fascination—the slow, creeping kind that burrowed into your bones and refused to leave.

Conquest did not change for you. He did not soften, did not falter in his beliefs. He remained a war-hardened conqueror, a destroyer of civilizations, a being who existed solely for battle.

But you had earned something rare.

His respect.

And maybe, just maybe, something deeper.

One day, as you walked through the observation deck, reviewing data, you felt him before you saw him. That impossible, looming presence, crackling with restrained power. You turned, and there he was—closer than usual, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“You linger in my thoughts more than you should,” he murmured, voice like distant thunder.

You swallowed. “Is that… a bad thing?”

He tilted his head, as if considering. Then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he rumbled:

“You are far too sweet for this world… I should rip your heart out and devour it before it ruins you.”

Your breath hitched. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, to run, to do something—but you didn’t. You stood your ground, staring up at him, heart hammering against your ribs.

A smirk curled at the edges of his lips. He straightened, eye gleaming with something wicked.

“Not yet,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Not yet.”

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, pulse wild, stomach twisting in ways you refused to acknowledge.

Because you knew.

This was far from over.

---------

(GSGHSNH4FSNNHUHWHAIIUJSHKCDKJC!!!!!!!!!!!!)

[lvrrgirlll]

Dublin in ecstasy // wanted to write something silly for st patrick’s day so here’s this (two days late...)

paring: artrick x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: oral m and f receiving, spitroasting, drunk sex, hastily proofread lol

a/n: this is highkey all over the place so keep in mind i am NOT claiming this to be my best work by any means lol... just something silly for the holiday (I say that and then I somehow ended up writing 3.5k words but that's besides the point)

The circumstances couldn’t have been more perfect. Art had decided to do a semester abroad in Ireland while Patrick conveniently was playing tournament in Dublin. And better yet, it all lined up over St. Patrick’s Day.

“C’mon man, it’s my fucking day after all,” Patrick insisted as he stretched out his arms as if basking in his own glory. The two men were holed up in Art’s dorm, a single, of course, since the Europeans always seemed to have more class when it came to university living situations.

“You’re playing the day after tomorrow and I’ve got a mountain of assignments I’m behind on. We’re not getting drunk tonight,” Art retorted quickly, shooting Patrick a stern glance. This hard front, though, swiftly melted when Patrick brought his hands to Art’s shoulders, leaning down so he was at eye level as Art sat at his desk.

“You don’t wanna help me celebrate my day?” He gave him a puppy dog stare, really trying to break down his best friend’s cool exterior. And he knew deep down that Art could be like putty in his hands if he played his cards right. Art’s eyes scanned Patrick’s dramatized expression, leaving him sighing in resignation.

“Fine,” Art groaned, rolling his eyes. “Can we just take it easy though?”

“Yeah man, sure. Whatever you want.”

Art should’ve trusted his gut when he had even an inkling that they wouldn’t be taking it easy. It was St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin for fucks sake. Patrick had outfitted them both with hastily made (sharpied on) “kiss me I’m Irish” shirts much to Art’s protest.

“It’s gonna be a let down when girls see me in this shirt and then hear my American accent,” Art huffs, tugging at the ends of the shirt.

“Nah man, it’s a conversation starter. You just have to be a conversation continuer. Plus, it’s straightforward. It’s a holiday. Girls will kiss you if your shirt says so.” Patrick seemed very confident about that.

“I’m like one-sixteenth Irish man, this feels like false advertising.”

“Forget about it, it’s not like I’m Darby O’Gill or anything, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Art sighed yet again, feeling more and more like this was a bad idea. His mind changed, however, when he and Patrick saw you from across the pub.

They’d been there for about an hour now, standing off to the side, pints of Guinness in hand, trying to feel out what kind of night it’d be. Of course, Patrick was eyeing nearly every girl in the place, most of them with their strong Irish boyfriends, though, but he wasn’t really interested until he noticed you.

You were notably without a boyfriend, currently arguing with the bartender about the pour on your Guinness. Both Art and Patrick were awestruck. The way you were so passionate was admirable, and it definitely helped that, to the both of them, you were the most beautiful girl in the place.

“I’ll be back, don’t wait up too long,” Patrick murmured, slipping away from Art and towards you.

Art stammered, trying to think of a way to stop Patrick, but Patrick just turned around, reminding him how he wanted to “take it easy” tonight. Damnit. Art was eating his own words.

“You seem like you know your beer,” Patrick mused, trying to seem nonchalant from behind you. You turned and he had to physically restrain himself from letting his jaw go slack. From a distance you were already something else, but up close, even a ladies man like Patrick would be flustered.

“Not really. I just know when they’ve screwed me giving me more air than actual drink,” you joked, taking the handsome stranger in as you turned around.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants.” It was excessively bold, but Patrick had already downed two pints, quickly going on three, and was feeling ballsy.

He watched as your eyes flitted down then, reading the messily written words on his shirt. You giggled. “Are you really Irish? You don’t have an accent,” you asked then, an eyebrow quirking up as you looked up at him.

“As Irish as you want me to be,” he chuckled before shaking his head. “No, really, I’m like 10% Irish. It hardly counts.”

A smirk flashed across your lips as you shot him a devious look through your lashes. “So I shouldn’t kiss you then?” That left him grasping for words, unsure where to take this. Of course, he wanted to kiss you. But his desperation (and slight drunkenness) was getting in the way of his sarcastic, charming banter.

Just in time, though, Art swooped in, much to Patrick’s dismay. “Hi, uh… I saw you from across the room, I just wanted to come say you’re, uh, really beautiful.” Smooth.

Patrick stifled a chuckle, giving Art a skeptical glance from behind you. Art’s eyes narrowed briefly as he glanced at Patrick, a subtle sign that the game was on, but you didn’t miss it.

“Do you two know each other?” You looked between the two of them, brows furrowing as you took a sip of your drink.

They had to give in, of course. The pair formally introduced themselves, gave you the whole spiel about how they go way back and they both play tennis, and Art was sure to mention that he was there for school (selfishly hoping that would impress you).

“So what are you doing in Ireland,” Art asked, ever the gentleman.

“I’ve taken a semester off of school to travel. I guess I’m sort of seeking new experiences; new opportunities, y’know.” You couldn’t help but notice that as you spoke both of them seemed to be hanging off of every word.

“New experiences, huh,” Patrick repeated, smirking before taking a heavy swig from his drink. He didn’t miss the wink you gave him from over the rim of his glass, but he decided to keep any more comments to himself for the time being.

Art kept the conversation going, mostly because he was drunk too at this point and he didn’t want you to leave. You talked for a while, the pub slowly getting more and more crowded (it was St. Patrick’s Day after all), until you were abruptly run into, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself.

“Fuck,” you cursed, the cold of the drink running down your body and soaking right through (and staining) your now see-through white shirt.

Neither Art nor Patrick knew exactly what to do, but Patrick ran to your rescue immediately, shouting at the guy who had run into you. Art had, more passively, made a break for the bathroom, getting paper towels. It was all no use, though. You were soaked; cold, wet, and uncomfortable. And it was looking like Patrick was on his way to a bar fight.

That’s how the three of you ended up stood outside the bar, you clutching your jacket around your body, Patrick pouting about getting you guys kicked out, and Art feeling sorry that he couldn’t help either of you more.

Patrick moved for his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and holding it in your direction. Though you didn’t typically smoke, you took one. It had been a night. As Patrick held his lighter up to the end of the cigarette, you two exchanged glances, still lust filled despite the unsavory events that got you here.

All of you sat in silence, taking steady drags off the cigarettes until you laughed, a dry, sarcastic little laugh. “Y’know what’s great?” You looked in their direction. “I don’t even live around here. I came cause I’ve got some friends here, but they all ditched me for their boyfriends and now I’ve got to take the bus home like this,” you spoke frustratedly, looking down at your state. That’s when a sneaky little idea came to Patrick.

“Well, my hotel’s only a 5 minute walk from here. Come shower there, you can dry off and then you can take the bus back to wherever it is,” he nearly insisted. Art shot him a look that you couldn’t quite discern, but Patrick didn’t seem moved by it. “What do ‘ya say? It’s not a bad idea…” he gave you those same puppy dog eyes he had given Art before, and damnit, they really did work. Patrick Zweig could convince the Pope to convert if he wanted to.

“Sure. Yeah, ok, lead the way.” Obviously, you knew deep down that this would not just be some sort of act of convenience and kindness, but hey, you weren't really opposed to that.

On the walk over, Art huddled up close to Patrick, whispering endless questions and concerns. "Dude, what am I supposed to do? Walk of shame back to my place while you get to fuck her?" He snuck a glance back at you trying to make sure you hadn't heard him. Patrick slung an arm around him, though, pulling him in closer.

"Don't you worry, Artie," his tone was mocking, but still somehow reassuring. "Let St. Patrick handle it. I have a feeling both of us will be getting lucky tonight." Art rolled his eyes, absolutely sick of the holiday related talk, but he took it in stride, trusting his friend (against his better judgement). It's not like they hadn't talked about sharing girls before. Maybe it really was that Irish luck that had sent you their way.

Back at Patrick's hotel, which was much nicer than you had expected (it was on his parents' dime, after all), you made a break for the shower, dying to free yourself from the confines of your drenched shirt. While you showered, the guys were talking strategy.

"So if it turns out she is only into one of us, then what," Art asked from the armchair in the corner.

"Then one of us gets to fuck her, obviously. If it comes to it, I'd get out of here for you." Art shakes his head at Patrick's crude words. "But like I said earlier, I think we could both luck out tonight. I mean, she did say she was looking for new experiences after all..."

"Right," Art quipped sarcastically. Both of them in their drunkenness had failed to realize that the water had stopped running, though.

"Imagine the noises she'd make...fuck man. And the way she'd probably give you the best head of your life. You saw her lips, right?"

"Jesus, Patrick, you've gotta stop,” Art sighed, a light laugh escaping though.

"But I'm right, right?" A silence lingered between the two before Art looked to Patrick, a goofy smile painted across his features.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are. I wouldn't make her do that, though. I mean, she seems like she'd be more into receiving than giving anyways, y'know..." And Patrick nodded. He knew exactly what Art meant.

Just then, the bathroom door clicked, making the boys' heads snap back in your direction. Now in only Patrick's t-shirt, which he had promptly stripped off and offered you when you got to the hotel, you padded out of the bathroom.

“Shit, did you hear that,” Art asked, embarrassed. Clearly, he couldn’t have been that embarrassed though, his eyes raking down your bare legs hungrily. Patrick, similarly, took no discretion in ogling you, leaning back and smiling like a cat who got the cream.

“You look good in my shirt, babe.” The nickname was maybe a bit much, but then again, when was Patrick ever afraid of too much?

Taking a seat on the bed, you smiled, looking down at the shirt again, chuckling lightly to yourself.

“You’d look better with it off, though…” he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you could hear it.

One thing led to another and now you, Art, and Patrick were all on the bed, Art kissing your neck and along your jaw while Patrick had lifted up your shirt and was paying close attention to your tits. It was unfamiliar, feeling two sets of lips on you at once, but there was something so euphoric about it too.

“Have you guys done this before-,” a slight gasp escaped your lips, cutting you off. “Shared the same girl?” Art hummed a quick ‘no’ against your skin, but Patrick didn’t even move to speak, only shaking his head ‘no’ as he continued to mouth at your hard nipples.

Patrick pulled away, taking a second to watch the way his best friend sucked at your neck, sure to leave a spot. Call him a cuck, but he felt harder than he’d ever been.

Nestling in behind you, he pulled you in away from Art so you were leaning against his bare chest. He dragged his hands up your waist to your tits, massaging them while placing little kisses along your shoulders. “C’mere Art…” he beckoned. Patrick’s big hands reached down, spreading your legs and holding them open.

Art practically scrambled up to you, a hopeless look in his heavily lidded eyes. You’d lost your shirt long ago, now only in a pair of lacy (soaked) panties.

He pulled them to the side, running a finger through your folds. His fingers were cold causing you to inhale a sharp breath. “Fuck…” he sighed, looking over your shoulder at Patrick. “She’s perfect.” Art slipped your panties down your legs, you helping a bit to kick them off your ankles, and pocketed them, not missing Patrick’s look of impressed approval. He leaned down, then, his fingers returning to your slick heat. He prodded at your hole, pushing one, then two fingers in, the feeling of you tightening around him sending a rush to his cock. He pumped in and out at a rapid pace, making your chest heave and your eyes flutter shut.

He leaned in closer to you, tonguing at your clit, absolutely obsessed with the way you were moaning with your head settled back against Patrick’s shoulder. He licked thick stripes along your pussy, fingers so deep inside you that it was hard to keep your legs spread, squirming and whimpering like a mess. “Fuck, Art… t- too much. M’ gonna… fuck, gonna cum.” That only encouraged him, pressing his face into you with so much dedication. You could feel his nose rub against you as he tongued around your hole, still filled by his fingers. Your hands tangled in his hair while Patrick kissed your neck feverishly, still holding your legs open for Art.

When you came, it was ecstasy. You felt like you were melting into Patrick as you leaned back into him, hips bucking up against Art’s face. Your legs were shaking as Art pulled his fingers out, still sloppily licking into you.

“Okay man, don’t get greedy,” Patrick murmured, pushing Art’s head away boyishly and pulling you up to sit up a little more. You giggled, still a little blissed out but wanting more, wanting to impress them.

“Here,” you started, moving onto all fours. “Let me return the favor.” Art was now in front of you, hard as a rock, while Patrick was left behind you, staring at your glistening pussy. You arched your back a little, ass in the air as you looked back at Patrick. “Well don’t just stand there…”

Patrick found his place behind you, the sound of his zipper coming down music to your ears as you worked on ridding Art of his pants. When you looked up at him, he was blushing, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol doing it to him or the situation at hand. He let out a shuttered breath when you slid his boxers down, his length slapping up against his stomach.

You bit you lip, eyeing his cock and noting the way his tip was pink and leaking precum. "Artie," you say, looking up at him doe eyed as if you weren't about to get spitroasted by two best friends.

"Y- yeah..." he replied, looking down at you pathetically, mouth hanging open as he waited for your reply.

"It's really pretty," you lilt before licking from the base to the tip. His eyes screw shut immediately and he makes a sound unlike any you'd heard before.

Patrick, clearly over the praise for Art, though, thrusts into you with no warning, bottoming out quickly and leaving you gasping for air. "Fuck, warn a girl next time..." you sigh as he stills, the feeling of being completely full overwhelming, but exciting.

"I'm so good I need a warning? I haven't even started moving, babe." Patrick speaks with a mocking tone, but you eat it up. Art, feeling left out then, reaches for your jaw, guiding your lips to his cock again. Everything he does, he does with a gentle, polite sort of touch, and you can admire that, especially when it's so starkly contrasted by Patrick.

When you finally take Art into your mouth, it's hard to miss the way his abs ripple while his cock twitches. You could tell he was long when you looked at it, but you realize just how long when his tip is forcing itself against your throat.

Unbeknownst to you, the two boys exchange looks, Patrick mouthing a '3...2....1' before they both started moving in tandem. Patrick's pace was quick and you could feel just how big he was by the stretch. Art, as if he wanted to outdo his friend, was now uncharacteristically bullying his cock down your throat. Though in true Art fashion, he combed a hand through your hair slowly, sweetly, as if he wasn't practically defiling you.

You couldn't help but gag, the sound only encouraging the two men. "She's so tight, man. You've gotta feel her pussy," Patrick huffed.

"You...were...right..." Art panted, lost in the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. "It's like she was made for this..." He almost felt guilty for being so crass... almost. But he was nothing if not easily influenced by his friend.

"Oh- she definitely liked that," Patrick slurs. "She's squeezing me so tight man -fuck." His hands were firmly holding your hips in place as the sound of skin slapping filled the room, his pace unrelenting.

And with each thrust from Patrick, you only pushed further down onto Art, now a drooling, gagging mess beneath him. You could hardly tell now, unable to focus in light of the mess being made of you, but Art kept a hand holding your jaw, caressing it even, as if to silently say 'good girl'.

Noticing your squirming, Patrick knew you were close. He reached a hand around to your clit, thumbing at it in swift circles and grunting like a mad man when you tightened around him. "Fuck, you like that baby? I know you're close... shit- I can feel it."

With Art still stuffing your mouth, all you could do was nod rapidly, pushing back onto Patrick now. Feeling him hit that spot over and over again, you lost yourself a bit, legs getting shaky as you moaned and whined around Art's cock. And then it snapped, that tight feeling in your stomach released as you came hard around Patrick's cock.

Patrick, reveling in the feeling, kept thrusting in and out, each thrust getting sloppier and more shallow. "Shit, don't worry babe," he breathed out heavily. "I'll -fuck- I'll pull out." But right as he moved to do so, you pulled off of Art abruptly, turning to face Patrick shaking your head. Your lips were swollen and glimmering as you shook your head desperately at Patrick.

"I'm on the pill," is all you said, turning back to Art then. You kissed at his tip before taking him back, deep down into your throat. When Patrick pushed back in, it was like the first time again. In pulling out for even a few seconds, he'd forgotten how good you felt, how tight and warm and wet you were.

And when Patrick's hips began to stutter, the feeling of him completely overstimulating you, he made sure to look Art right in the eyes. "Fuck," he gasped, staring right at his flushed, sweating friend as he came inside you, filling you up.

The image of Patrick, jaw slack and making eye contact, drove Art over the edge. Without any sort of warning, you could suddenly feel hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat. He pulled out a bit prematurely, some of his cum spurting onto your lips too, but you made sure to look up at him and lick it up like a champ.

"Holy shit..." he mumbled.

"Holy indeed..." Patrick hummed, pulling out and settling on the bed behind you.

Once you were cleaned up, the three of you nestled into bed, you drifting off in their arms quickly, completely spent from the night's activities. Before either boy could fall asleep, though, Patrick startled Art by ruffling a hand through his hair.

"What's that for," Art asked, bewildered.

"I told you St. Patrick would deliver."

[seitmai]

Oh so many thoughts

Your head was high, shoulders squared, exuding the kind of confidence that was ingrained. Your dress clung just right, swaying with each step, and Bucky swore he forgot how to breathe.

Oh I'm sure he did 🤭

Catching your eye when you passed by, a slow smirk when you looked away too fast. Holding the door open a second too long, letting his fingers brush yours when he handed over your change.

It's the small things 👀

Words, always words, low and teasing, dangerous for a girl with a mind like yours. Words were your weakness.

Facts lol

You knew the risks. You knew people talked. In a world that kept its lines drawn thick and unyielding, Bucky chasing after you was a dangerous thing.  But Bucky never cared about lines.

Oh I'm sure he doesn't 🫣

“You scared?” he asked one night, his voice soft but steady. "Of what?" "Of what happens if you let yourself want this as bad as I do.” You should have been. But you weren’t. The way he made you feel like you belonged to him.

🥰🥰🥰

Maybe you did. Because you gave him your innocence. But love like that didn’t come without consequences. 

Oh 🫣👀

What Bucky hadn’t expected, what he hadn’t planned for, was how deep he’d fall for you, how much he’d care. You weren’t just a good time. You weren’t just a secret thrill. You were it.

He fell in love head over heels and certainly not planned

No warning. No note. No goodbye. Just vanished, into thin air. And for six years, he told himself it didn’t matter. That if you wanted to leave, then fine. That he wasn’t the type to chase ghosts. But then he saw you again, standing under the lights of a Vegas stage, your voice carving its way through the smoky haze. And in that moment, Bucky Barnes knew one thing for certain. This time, he wasn’t letting you run.

He is determined that he made that mistake once and will never make it again

Now you had fuller hips and softer edges; your body was made to be held. If he got his hands on you again, he knew there would be more of you to worship, to savor.

And he can't wait 🤭

And when he smirked again, just a little, like he’d just won something, your breath hitched. Because you both knew. Six years apart hadn’t changed a gotdamn thing.

😍😍😍

“Fellas,” he drawled, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray, “this here is Trouble.” Your lips parted slightly, a profane retort ready to go, but before you could snap back, he continued. “Trouble, this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.”

His audacity to call her Trouble lol

“Let’s just say…” His eyes met yours, heat simmering beneath the surface.  “She used to belong to me.” The words struck your chest like lightning. You’d learned enough curse words to set his head on fire since you’d known him last, but you didn’t lace the room with profanity.  “Used to,” you repeated, voice smooth as velvet. “Interesting choice of words.” Bucky’s smile didn’t drop, but he clutched his glass tighter, and you saw the way his jaw ticked.

👀👀👀

Sam let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show.  “Damn. She’s quick.” Steve, ever the observer, just watched the exchange with a smirk.

They both love the show 🤭

“You still listen like a Good Girl,” he murmured, voice smooth as smoke and just as dangerous. You crossed your arms, shielding yourself from his stare as he leaned back against the small table between you, eyes skimming the curves of your dress like he had every right to. “And you’re still a little asshole, Bucky.” “I think you know I’m not ‘little,’ Baby,” he said, voice dipping lower. “Bet you that cunt still curves to my dick.” You didn’t think. Your palm met his cheek in a resounding slap before you could stop it.

He so deserved that 👏🏻

You thought of the reason why, of the tiny heartbeat that changed your life forever, and you folded your arms tighter across your chest. “But tell me this. Was it worth it?” The air left your lungs. You thought of why you ran. What was expected of you. What would’ve happened if you’d stayed. Six years of building a life from scratch. Six years of trying to convince yourself you made the right choice. Six years of missing him. Six years of seeing his eyes every day both in your dreams and when you woke. “Absolutely.”

🥺🥺🥺

Bucky’s gaze flickered, searching your face for something, doubt, regret, a lie. But he didn’t find it. “I’m not sorry for what I did, Bucky. But I’m sorry if I hurt you.” You meant it. Every word. But you belonged to someone else now. Someone more important than James Barnes.

Oh is he only knew 👀🥹

“And if I need to go home?” you asked, testing. Steve shrugged. “Then we’ll take the lady home. But if you’re looking for a little more excitement…” “We know a place or two,” Sam finished, his voice tinged with amusement.

Of course they know a place or two 😅

Despite yourself, you smiled. You liked them. Even if they were Bucky’s men, and even if they saw more than they let on.

They are pretty likable 🤷🏻‍♀️

Steve’s gaze flickered down, tracing the slit in your dress, lingering just long enough to make your pulse skip. “Those legs look just fine to me,” he murmured. You arched a brow. Was Steve Rogers flirting with you? And was Sam giving you the same once over from the passenger seat? And more importantly, what would Bucky do if he knew? 

Oh this is interesting 👀

“You two do this often?” you asked as the car rumbled to life. Steve and Sam exchanged a glance, the kind that spoke volumes. “I’ve known Bucky for three years,” Sam said, voice lighter than his meaning. “And I’ve never seen him give a woman the time of daylight.” “And he’s only ever talked about one woman to me.” The weight of his words settled over you. He didn’t have to say it. You knew. Steve’s voice was softer when he added, “But he stopped talking about her about five and a half years ago.”

🥹🥹🥹

His gaze collided with yours, stealing the air from your lungs. He didn’t move. Just stood there, watching you, burning you into his memory like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

He is taking in every single second

Then his hands were on you. Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, desperate and deep, like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know that six years hadn’t dulled his hunger for you.

It's been a long time coming...

He brought your hand up to his mouth, taking the glove off your hand with his teeth, one finger at a time. Your mind short circuited, forgetting what you wanted to say, the only thought that your panties would burst into flames, but the liquid at your center would surely put the fire out.

Valid reaction 🤭

“Missed these fuckin’ curves,” he groaned, rolling his hips against you, letting you feel just how hard he was, how much he needed you. Bucky looked up at you then, eyes burning, voice nothing but gravel. “Hold on tight, Baby. I ain’t letting you go this time.

Oh I'm sure he will keep his word

"Gonna fuck you proper, though. In a bed." You let out a breathless laugh as Bucky scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to his bedroom. He laid you out, spreading your legs as he loomed over you, devouring the sight. His manicured nails dragged over your thighs in a slow, teasing stroke. "Be a good girl for me," he murmured, eyes dark with intent. "And grab my hair if you need to."

Oh he is in love and ready to worship

"Why so shocked?" he taunted. "You act like you haven’t had sex since I borrowed Johnny’s car—" He stopped. Your face must have given you away because his own softened instantly. "Oh, shit." His tone was different now, understanding. "It’s okay, Baby. I got you."

I am obsessed with his instant switch! It shows that beneath his hard shell, he is still just head over heels for her 😍

Determination flashed in his blue eyes as he leaned down again, brushing a featherlight kiss against your most sensitive place. It was intimate. Like he was kissing your mouth. Then, he licked into you, slow and deliberate, and your world shattered. Lightning coursed through your veins as your thighs instinctively clamped around his head. Your fingers fisted in his curls, tugging mercilessly. Bucky groaned in approval, his tongue swirling, sucking, worshiping. Every swipe, every firm drag, every deep flick had you writhing beneath him, riding his face, chasing oblivion.

What a great way to get into action after six years 🤭🥵

And his release filled you, thick and hot, as his body shuddered violently against yours. And in that moment, tangled together, sweat-slicked and sated, you both knew. You were his again.

Like it's signed with a seal

His voice was thick with exhaustion, but he still caught the way you shifted, the way your body tensed before you sat up.

I love those little details!!

"Bathroom," you murmured, already moving. "Need to clean up." Something flickered in his eyes, something soft, something real. But the moment you slipped away, his hope dimmed just a little. Bucky nodded, jaw tight. He had questions. Too many. But he knew you wouldn’t answer them. So he let you go. But that didn’t mean he was letting this go.

He wants to ask about everything so bad, he is really holding back not to lose her again 🥺

You stepped out, wrapped in a housecoat, makeup gone, hair wrapped in a scarf. Then you walked to the neighboring unit. And knocked. The door cracked open. Bucky sat up straighter, his breath hitching as the kid bolted toward you, dark messy hair bouncing, big blue eyes shining as he laughed, launching himself into your waiting arms. You caught him effortlessly, hugging him close, whispering something into his ear. Like you’d done it a thousand times before. Because you had.

🥹🥰🥹🥰

"You smell funny," he mumbled sleepily. You huffed a quiet laugh, shifting him in your arms. "Yeah? What do I smell like?" Jamie blinked up at you, barely awake. "Like trouble," he sighed.

This one seems to have more in common with his dad other than looks 👀

James Buchanan Barnes was coming for you. For both of you.

A chill danced down your spine, one you always felt when Bucky was near. Slowly, your eyes lifted, scanning the street. Nothing. No car. No sign of him. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been here.

In Bucky's case that doesn't mean a thing..

I sure hope he does! He has 6 years to make up for lol

Jokes aside, I love this already and I'm so invested! I would love to read more of those two/three if you feel up for it 🤗

Trouble in Mind

Summary: Las Vegas, 1952. James Buchanan Barnes is the newest, and youngest, Capo in town. But amid the glitz and shadows of the Strip, he never expects to find you, the beautiful singer who vanished from his life six years ago without a trace. Bucky wants you back. And he wants answers. But you're only willing to give him one of those things.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Lounge Singer!Reader

A/N: This is an absolute fever dream inspired by #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Mafia Bucky.

I went back to 50's Vegas because I need another world to get lost in. This is a little longer because this world is so fetch. I can't quite decide if he is going to be dark!Mafia! Bucky after this. Let me know what you think! Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Angst. Lots of cigarette smoking, longing, forbidden romance, Steve and Sam (they are warnings!), Bucky is an ass, cocky Bucky, smooth talker Bucky, young love, heart break, a slap (which he deserves), rough sex, wall sex, 50's foundation garments, long time no sex, oral (f receiving) squirting praise kink, raw p in v, lies, deceit, and crime, along with 1950's race relations and allusions to Jim Crow. Whew.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Las Vegas, 1952

Vegas glittered at night.

Neon lights buzzed, the air thick with cigarette smoke and money. And tonight, a set of eyes was watching you that you thought you’d left far behind. 

You felt his gaze before you even saw him. It burned into you from the darkest corner of the club. The kind of stare that made your skin prickle, which was both a warning and a temptation.

Bucky.

You’d heard a new Capo was coming to take over the casino, an up and comer from the East Coast, one of the youngest Bosses ever. 

You never imagined it would be Bucky Barnes.

------ 

Brooklyn, 1946

Bucky saw you before you ever looked his way.

James Buchanan Barnes was fresh out of the war and already sinking into the life waiting for him back home.

The one his mother prayed he’d stay away from. 

The one he walked into anyway.

The scent of fresh bread drifted from the bakery down the block as Bucky leaned outside the corner store, trading laughs with his boys, cigarette dangling from his fingers, watching the world pass him by.

Then you walked past, on the way to your vocal lessons.

Your head was high, shoulders squared, exuding the kind of confidence that was ingrained. Your dress clung just right, swaying with each step, and Bucky swore he forgot how to breathe.

He knew your type, a daddy’s girl, from a family with expectations. A good girl from Bed-Stuy, the kind who kept her nose clean and didn’t look twice at trouble.

Trouble, like him.

Down on the corner, they could hear your voice carry over the city noise, rising like a bird above the clatter of the el train.

Lark. That’s what they called you when you weren’t listening. Never to your face.

They knew better than to get too close, and Bucky knew better than to look too long.

But he looked anyway.

And when you finally met his eyes, something in you flickered.

Your father had warned you about guys like Bucky Barnes. 

‘Young punks’, he called them, hanging outside that shop owned by the local boss. Nothing but dead ends and broken hearts. He told you to keep your head high and your eyes forward, and to remember who you were. 

And if that warning wasn’t clear enough, there was another, unspoken one layered beneath it: Girls like you don’t mix with boys like him. Not in this world.

But when Bucky looked at you with those blue eyes, you knew you were already ruined. 

He found ways to get close. 

Catching your eye when you passed by, a slow smirk when you looked away too fast. Holding the door open a second too long, letting his fingers brush yours when he handed over your change. Words, always words, low and teasing, dangerous for a girl with a mind like yours. 

Words were your weakness.

"You gonna keep pretendin’ you don’t see me, Doll?" he asked one evening, stepping into your path as you left the bakery. 

You could smell his cologne and feel his heat and why were you thinking that his lips were nice? What was the tingle in your lower back that you just knew would go away if he touched you there?

You shook your head, remembering you couldn’t entertain this.

"You gonna keep acting like it don’t matter?" you shot back, heart pounding. 

You continued on your way but that night you couldn’t sleep for thoughts of him. 

One day, he whistled as you walked by. And that day, you stopped.

"You want a problem, Barnes?"

He smirked, looking you over blatantly and licking his lips.

"A problem’s not what I want, Doll. Just enjoyin’ the view."

That should’ve been the end of it. But it wasn’t.

You should’ve ignored him. Should’ve listened to your father. But you didn’t.

Because Bucky Barnes had a way of making himself impossible to ignore.

It was stolen glances at first, then hushed conversations on the stoop when the sun was setting. His voice curled around your name, making it sound like something precious. It was the thrill of his hand ghosting over yours, his fingers rough but careful, like he was afraid you’d pull away.

Except you never did.

You knew the risks. You knew people talked. In a world that kept its lines drawn thick and unyielding, Bucky chasing after you was a dangerous thing. 

But Bucky never cared about lines.

He didn't care when people whispered, when your father tightened the reins, when your friends warned you that even if he wasn’t afraid, the world wouldn’t be kind.

“You scared?” he asked one night, his voice soft but steady.

"Of what?"

"Of what happens if you let yourself want this as bad as I do.”

You should have been. But you weren’t.

At first, you told yourself it was just curiosity, just a bit of rebellion before you settled down and did what was expected of you. But curiosity turned into something more, something dangerous. 

Something like love.

Because when he kissed you for the first time, heat pressing against heat in the shadow of an alleyway, you didn’t care about the rules. Bucky tasted like smoke and sin and the promise of something reckless. And suddenly, all the warnings in the world didn’t matter.

Didn’t matter that Brooklyn had unspoken rules. Because Bucky knew what he wanted. And he knew you wanted him back. 

He savored those stolen nights in dark alleys, the way you melted under his touch, the way you let yourself need him, even if only when no one else could see.

And you knew that it wasn’t just about the thrill of sneaking around, or the way he could make your breath hitch with a single look. It was about him, the way he softened when it was just the two of you. The way his fingers traced slow patterns on your skin, memorizing you like you were something sacred.

The way he made you feel like you belonged to him.

Maybe you did. Because you gave him your innocence. 

But love like that didn’t come without consequences. 

What Bucky hadn’t expected, what he hadn’t planned for, was how deep he’d fall for you, how much he’d care.

You weren’t just a good time. You weren’t just a secret thrill. You were it.

The one thing that made the rest of the world fade away.

And maybe that’s why he didn’t see it coming.

One day you were there, warm and real beneath his hands. And the next, you were gone.

No warning. No note. No goodbye. Just vanished, into thin air.

And for six years, he told himself it didn’t matter. That if you wanted to leave, then fine. That he wasn’t the type to chase ghosts.

But then he saw you again, standing under the lights of a Vegas stage, your voice carving its way through the smoky haze.

And in that moment, Bucky Barnes knew one thing for certain.

This time, he wasn’t letting you run.

—-

Vegas, 1952

The man that you had to leave in the middle of the night was sitting in the lounge that you sang in. The man that you dreamed about at night as you sang love songs was right here in the room with you.

And you didn’t know how to act.

You should have run. But you didn’t.

He was seated in the VIP section, flanked by two other men in sharp suits, but he was the only one that mattered. The way he lounged, cigarette between his fingers, watching you like he never relinquished his ownership of you, made your head spin.

—--

Bucky leaned back in his seat, cigarette burning low between his fingers, letting the familiar hum of the casino settle into his bones: the money, the women, the men who thought they were untouchable.

Las Vegas glowed like sin, neon and greed dripping down its streets. It wasn’t Brooklyn, but it had its own kind of pull, its own kind of power. And now, it belonged to him.

It all revolved around him.

But none of it held his attention. Not like you did.

He saw you before you saw him, and for a moment, the world tilted as the air sucked straight out of the room.

Then you stepped onto that stage, looking like something spun from a dream, and for the first time in years, Bucky almost believed in fate.

He’d spent too long clawing his way up in this world to let anyone, or anything, decide his future for him. But seeing you again? It felt like something supernatural.

Because here you were.

In his city.

Singing like you owned the damn room.

You had changed. Not just older, not just more poised. It was in the way you carried yourself, the way you commanded the stage with a presence that made every other woman in the world fade to nothing.

And your body. It was a marvel, showcased in shimmering fabric that clung to curves he remembered all too well.

Now you had fuller hips and softer edges; your body was made to be held. If he got his hands on you again, he knew there would be more of you to worship, to savor.

You weren’t that wide-eyed girl from Brooklyn anymore. And yet, you were still his Lark.

He saw the exact moment you felt his gaze, the subtle tension in your spine, the way your fingers curled just a little tighter around the mic. Even after all these years, you could still feel him.

Then your eyes found him in the dim glow of the club, and Bucky saw it, the sharp inhale, the slight part of your lips, as if you were about to say his name.

It was enough to make his chest ache.

—--

You should’ve kept walking.

You should’ve ignored the butterflies in your belly and that tingle in your back that only Bucky Barnes had been able to inspire.

But you didn’t.

Instead, after your set, you let your feet carry you straight to his table.

Bucky smirked, his fingers tapping lazily against the glass in front of him. 

Like he knew you would come to him.

Six years gone, and yet the moment your eyes locked with his, it was like no time had passed at all. But you weren’t that girl anymore. And Bucky wasn’t that boy.

He was something else now. Something more defined. The suit fit too well, the watch on his wrist cost too much, and the men flanking him sat too still, waiting for his command.

Still, when he looked at you, it wasn’t the infamous new Capo of Las Vegas James Buchanan Barnes staring back.

It was him. Your Bucky.

The boy who once kissed you breathless in the back of a borrowed car.

The boy who called you ‘Baby’ like the word belonged to him.

The boy you left behind in the dead of night, never looking back.

Until now.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, keeping your voice steady.

His smile was the same one that decimated you back in the day.

“Funny,” he said, tapping ash from his cigarette. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t let it show. 

Bucky had always been too good at reading you. Way too good. And then he did something dangerous. He nodded to the empty seat beside him.

“Sit with me, Doll.”

The way he said it, low and easy, like it was a foregone conclusion made your body obey like you had long ago. Your fingers twitched at your side. But instead of walking away, you lowered yourself into the seat beside him, your skin prickling with goosebumps under his gaze.

And when he smirked again, just a little, like he’d just won something, your breath hitched.

Because you both knew.

Six years apart hadn’t changed a gotdamn thing.

—--

The moment you sat down, you knew you’d already lost something. Maybe the upper hand, maybe your damn mind, but something shifted the second you met his eyes and made the choice to stay.

Bucky took another slow drag from his cigarette, like he was savoring this moment. He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, peering at you through it with those blue eyes, then finally turned to the two men sitting beside him, as if he’d just remembered they were there.

“Fellas,” he drawled, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray, “this here is Trouble.”

Your lips parted slightly, a profane retort ready to go, but before you could snap back, he continued.

“Trouble, this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.”

Steve, the blonde with the sharp blue eyes, nodded at you, his expression unreadable. He was the kind of man who didn’t say much but noticed everything.

Sam, on the other hand, smiled a beautiful gap-toothed grin. 

“Trouble, huh?” 

He extended a hand, and you hesitated before taking it, but his grip was warm and firm.

“I gotta say, any woman that can put that look on Barnes’ face is someone I gotta know.”

You arched a brow, tilting your head. 

“And what look is that?”

Sam’s grin widened. 

“Like he just won the jackpot.”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your face neutral. Instead, you turned back to Bucky, leveling him with a look. 

“Trouble?”

Bucky’s lips curled, and something wicked danced in his eyes. 

“You always were.”

You didn’t blink. 

“And you always loved it.”

There was a silence thick with sex between you, and again the other men were forgotten.

Then, Steve cleared his throat. 

“How do you two know each other?”

Bucky chuckled darkly, and leaned back in his seat.

“Let’s just say…” His eyes met yours, heat simmering beneath the surface.  “She used to belong to me.”

The words struck your chest like lightning. You’d learned enough curse words to set his head on fire since you’d known him last, but you didn’t lace the room with profanity. 

Your fingers curled into a fist in your lap, but you kept your expression steady. 

You weren’t the girl anymore who let Bucky Barnes own her with a smile and a whispered promise in the dark.

So you tilted your head, letting your lips curve.

“Used to,” you repeated, voice smooth as velvet. “Interesting choice of words.”

Bucky’s smile didn’t drop, but he clutched his glass tighter, and you saw the way his jaw ticked.

Sam let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show. 

“Damn. She’s quick.”

Steve, ever the observer, just watched the exchange with a smirk.

You leaned in slightly, just enough to make Bucky’s eyes flicker to your mouth and down to your cleavage before he dragged them back up. 

“If I remember right, I was the one who left.”

Bucky exhaled a slow breath through his nose, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray again, his voice a shade lower now. 

“That’s what you think?”

You raised a brow. 

“That’s what I know.”

He made a sound low in his throat before taking another sip of his drink. He gazed at you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you now that you were sitting right in front of him again.

Then his eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“So tell me, Trouble. If you walked away so easy, why are you sitting here now?”

That’s the question, you thought.

So instead of answering, you reached for his glass, plucked it from his fingers, and took a slow sip before setting it back down.

Then you met his eyes and smiled.

“Maybe I just wanted to remind you,” you said softly. “That you don’t own me anymore.”

Bucky stared at you, unreadable. That muscle in his jaw twitched again.

Then, slowly, that wicked smirk crept back onto his face and he tilted his head at you, those blue eyes sparkling.

“We’ll see about that, Lark.”

—----

Bucky watched as you set his glass back down, the ghost of your lipstick staining the rim, taunting him. Six years apart, and you still knew how to get under his skin with a single look, a single move. 

A single sentence.

Maybe I just wanted to remind you… that you don’t own me anymore.

You challenged him in ways no one else dared to. And Bucky fucking loved it.

Steve and Sam were watching, though they had the good sense to stay quiet. Sam was chuckling, and Steve’s face held a small crooked smile, one that appeared after Bucky said Lark.

Bucky didn’t give a damn about either of them right now.

His eyes stayed on you. You were trying to be tough, but you had to be feeling the same pull that he was. Bucky leaned forward, closing the space just enough to catch your scent and see your pupils blow wider. 

Gotcha.

“Never needed to own you, Doll.” 

His voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it. 

“That was never the game.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you caught yourself, chucking your chin up instead. 

“Then what was your game, James?”

He smiled again. He wasn’t about to hand you that answer.

Yet.

Instead, he sat back, dragging his gaze over you slowly, and licking his lips. 

You were still the most beautiful thing in the damn room, and you had to know it. That dress, those eyes; every man in this club was probably watching you, and wanting you.

But only one of them had ever had you.

And only one of them was going to again.

He tapped his fingers once against the table before rising smoothly to his feet. 

“C’mon.”

You blinked, “What?”

He nodded toward the back of the club, where the private booths were. Where you two could talk without an audience.

“Walk with me.”

A challenge. A test. A door you could still choose not to open.

Bucky saw you hesitate, for just a moment, but then you stood, smoothing out your dress and holding your head high like you hadn’t just made a decision that would change everything.

Bucky’s smirk widened.

That’s my girl.

—-

Bucky’s smirk deepened when you stood, like he’d known you would. That alone made something tighten in your chest, but you swallowed it down, lifting your chin as you followed him through the club.

The noise of the club, the conversations, the clinking of glasses, the jazz band, it all blurred as he led you toward the back, past the heavy velvet curtain that separated the VIP section from the private rooms. It infuriated you how easy it was to fall into step with him, how your body remembered before your mind could protest.

The moment you were away from prying eyes, he turned.

“You still listen like a Good Girl,” he murmured, voice smooth as smoke and just as dangerous.

You crossed your arms, shielding yourself from his stare as he leaned back against the small table between you, eyes skimming the curves of your dress like he had every right to.

“And you’re still a little asshole, Bucky.”

His smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened. He pulled out a cigarette, tapping it against his lighter before the soft flicker of flame cast his face in gold. He inhaled slow, exhaled even slower.

“I think you know I’m not ‘little,’ Baby,” he said, voice dipping lower. “Bet you that cunt still curves to my dick.”

You didn’t think. Your palm met his cheek in a resounding slap before you could stop it.

Bucky only grinned.

“You must wanna see if it’s true,” he murmured, stepping closer, “because you know that turns me on.”

Your breath hitched, anger curling hot in your gut, and you turned to leave, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, gentle but firm.

“Sorry, Doll.”

You knew he was anything but.

Although he let you go the moment you glared at his hand, the heat of his touch lingered.

“Stay,” he said, quieter this time. “I think we need to talk, don’t you?”

You lifted a brow. “About?”

He studied you like he was searching for the right words.

“You left Brooklyn.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a wound, still fresh after six years.

You met his stare, steady. 

“I did.”

“Didn’t say a damn thing to me.”

You thought of the reason why, of the tiny heartbeat that changed your life forever, and you folded your arms tighter across your chest.

“Would it have mattered?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“That’s cute, Doll.”

His voice was rough.

“You really think I would’ve let you go?”

Your stomach clenched, but you didn’t flinch. 

“That might be why I didn’t tell you.”

His jaw ticked, frustration creeping into the lines of his face. He leaned in, forearms bracing against the table, his eyes locking onto yours.

“You ran. Fine.” 

His voice was softer now, laced with something you couldn’t name. 

“But tell me this. Was it worth it?”

The air left your lungs. You thought of why you ran. What was expected of you. What would’ve happened if you’d stayed.

Six years of building a life from scratch. Six years of trying to convince yourself you made the right choice. Six years of missing him. Six years of seeing his eyes every day both in your dreams and when you woke.

“Absolutely.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered, searching your face for something, doubt, regret, a lie. But he didn’t find it.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “You were mine.”

You exhaled slowly. 

“I’m not sorry for what I did, Bucky. But I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

You meant it. Every word.

But you belonged to someone else now. Someone more important than James Barnes.

—---

Bucky’s eyes flashed, then he sat back in his seat, appraising you yet again. 

“It’s okay, Doll. I turned out okay. And here we are, together again.”

“We’re not together, Bucky.”

He took another drag of his smoke.

“Only a matter of time, Baby.”

You took a breath, steadying yourself, lifting your chin. 

“I have another set.”

Bucky smiled at you.

“I know.”

Of course, he knew. He ran this town and he always paid attention, always saw more than you wanted him to.

You stood, ready to walk away, to put some space between the past and the present before you lost yourself in it again. But before you could take a step, something small and cool slid against your palm.

You looked down.

A key.

Bucky’s fingers lingered over yours just long enough to make your pulse jump. He looked into your eyes and leaned down and it was like your lips were connected by magnets. 

He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes and regrets as his tongue slid into your mouth, establishing ownership yet again. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.

“Royal Sierra Hotel. Top floor,” he gruffed.  “I’ll be waiting.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You should have dropped the key right back into his palm. Should have told him no, should have walked away, should have done a thousand things. 

But you did none of them. You just curled your fingers around the key, just for a second, then slipped it into your dress pocket like it meant nothing. 

Bucky didn’t call you on it. Didn’t press. He just smiled, slow and knowing, then stepped back.

“See you soon, Doll.”

Then he was gone, and you were left standing there, with a key in your pocket and a storm in your chest, knowing damn well you were about to make a mistake.

——

Your second set of the night flew by in a blur. Your voice soared through the rafters, full of emotion, carrying the weight of things you couldn’t say out loud. The memories all spilled into the songs, wrapped in melodies that weren’t yours but might as well have been. 

You poured your soul into every note, and the crowd felt it. They responded with enthusiastic applause and with generosity for the waitresses and bartenders. At the end of the night, the club manager pressed extra bills into your hand, murmuring something about record-breaking tips.

You barely heard him. 

Your mind was already made up.

You stepped out into the cool night air, exhaling as you raised your hand to hail a cab, but before you could, a smooth voice cut through the darkness.

“Need a ride?”

You turned, heels clicking against the pavement as you took in the sight before you.

Steve Rogers, all broad shoulders and quiet authority, leaned against a gleaming black Continental, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. 

Your brows lifted. 

“Didn’t peg you for a chauffeur.”

Steve chuckled.

“Just trying to be nice.” 

He nodded toward the passenger seat. 

“We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Your gaze shifted past him to Sam, watching you from inside the car, his smile just visible through the window.

“And if I need to go home?” you asked, testing.

Steve shrugged. 

“Then we’ll take the lady home. But if you’re looking for a little more excitement…”

“We know a place or two,” Sam finished, his voice tinged with amusement.

Despite yourself, you smiled. You liked them. Even if they were Bucky’s men, and even if they saw more than they let on.

“I’ll take you up on that,” you said, sighing as you stepped forward. 

“Standing on a stage in heels all night isn’t exactly easy on the legs.”

Steve’s gaze flickered down, tracing the slit in your dress, lingering just long enough to make your pulse skip.

“Those legs look just fine to me,” he murmured.

You arched a brow. Was Steve Rogers flirting with you? And was Sam giving you the same once over from the passenger seat?

And more importantly, what would Bucky do if he knew? 

You didn’t have time to wonder. Steve was already holding the door open, waiting. You slid inside, sinking into the plush leather seats, and shot him a tired, knowing smile as he shut the door behind you.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirror, his eyes catching yours in the reflection. 

“Which way, Miss Y/L/N?”

You hesitated.

Bucky was making this hard.

You closed your eyes, reaching back, searching for the girl you were six years ago. The girl who ran. The girl who had every reason to. But she was gone, her memories worn thin, fragile as cigarette paper.

You could stand to make some new ones.

And they would have to last. Because this would only be one night.

“The Royal Sierra,” you said softly.

Steve’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You two do this often?” you asked as the car rumbled to life.

Steve and Sam exchanged a glance, the kind that spoke volumes.

“I’ve known Bucky for three years,” Sam said, voice lighter than his meaning. “And I’ve never seen him give a woman the time of daylight.”

You let out a soft laugh.

“It’s nighttime, Sam.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. 

“He’s never introduced me to a dame before. Plenty have tried to get to him through us, but he doesn’t let ‘em. He just shoos ‘em off like stray dogs.” 

Sam’s smirk deepened. 

“But you? You’re different.”

Something in your chest tightened. You turned toward the back of Steve’s head. 

“What about you, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve cleared his throat, his hands flexing on the wheel.

“I’ve known Buck since we were kids in Brooklyn,” he said after a pause.

“And he’s only ever talked about one woman to me.”

The weight of his words settled over you. He didn’t have to say it. You knew.

Steve’s voice was softer when he added, “But he stopped talking about her about five and a half years ago.”

Your heart clenched.

You didn’t ask any more questions after that. You just let the city lights blur past the window, let the neon colors bleed together as they carried you to the man waiting at the top of the Royal Sierra.

Waiting for you.

——-

The Royal Sierra was a loud kind of quiet. The kind that came from power. Bucky’s kind of place.

Steve pulled up to the entrance, stepping out with effortless authority, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like he belonged here. Like you belonged here. No one stopped you. No one asked questions.

His presence alone was a key. A shield.

Bucky Barnes’ reach extended farther than Mr. Crow’s.

Before you knew it, you were stepping into the elevator, watching the floors tick by, your pulse a slow, deliberate drum in your throat. And by the time you reached the penthouse, your body had made a decision your mind refused to acknowledge.

You lifted a gloved hand and slid the key into the lock.

The door opened instantly.

And then, there was Bucky.

His gaze collided with yours, stealing the air from your lungs. He didn’t move. Just stood there, watching you, burning you into his memory like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

Then his hands were on you.

Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, desperate and deep, like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know that six years hadn’t dulled his hunger for you.

You melted, even though you knew better.

You knew this was dangerous. That this wasn’t just about lust, or longing, or the years between you. But none of it mattered as you wound your arms around him, tangling your fingers in the dark curls you missed too damn much.

Bucky groaned, dragging you flush against him. His hands roamed lower, exploring this new version of you, the one with fuller curves, wider hips, a body that had known things he hadn’t been there to witness.

He needed to erase it all.

He deepened the kiss, his breath ragged as he backed you against the wall, pinning you there, swallowing the soft sound you made.

God, that sound.

He had dreamed about it.

You pulled back. Your lips were swollen, your breath uneven, you were beautiful. But there was something else in your eyes.

A flicker of hesitation.

Bucky smirked.

He didn’t want to talk. Not tonight. He wanted to taste you, to relearn every inch of you. 

He brought your hand up to his mouth, taking the glove off your hand with his teeth, one finger at a time.

Your mind short circuited, forgetting what you wanted to say, the only thought that your panties would burst into flames, but the liquid at your center would surely put the fire out.

Bucky Barnes was still so goddamn hot.

“You staying?” 

His voice was hoarse with desire.

Your lips parted slightly. Then, slowly, you nodded. That was all he needed.

With deliberate slowness, he backed you toward the couch, his blue eyes never leaving yours.

He didn’t know why you left.

Didn’t know why you were in Vegas.

Didn’t know how long he had.

And tonight, he wasn’t asking.

"Missed this," he murmured against your throat, his breath hot, his fingers digging into the roundness of your ass. His voice sent a shiver down your spine.

He turned you, fingers finding the zipper of your dress. You felt it slide down, the cool air kissing your bare skin as the rich fabric slipped from your shoulders, revealing the decadent silk and lace beneath.

Bucky let out a rough exhale.

The longline bra molded perfectly to your curves, the underwire and boning lifting your breasts high, the lace trim barely concealing your peaked nipples. The silk garter belt cinched your waist, accentuating the swell of your hips, its straps fastened to sheer stockings that clung to your legs like a whisper.

Bucky groaned low in his throat, his hands ghosting over your sides, gripping, kneading. 

“Jesus, Doll… you always did know how to drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he rasped.

He trailed a finger along the edge of your bra, teasing you through the lace with his knuckles grazing the soft swell of your breast. 

“Look at you… all wrapped up like a goddamn present,” he muttered, voice thick with reverence.

His hands slid down, and his thumbs traced slow, reverent paths along the edge of your garter, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your thighs. He tilted his head, lips curving against your jaw.

“Been dreamin’ about this,” he whispered, voice dripping with possession. 

“And now it’s real.”

You shivered beneath his touch, and Bucky smirked, satisfied. He trailed his fingers lower, slipping beneath the garter belt to palm your ass, squeezing greedily, pulling you flush against him.

“Missed these fuckin’ curves,” he groaned, rolling his hips against you, letting you feel just how hard he was, how much he needed you.

He was losing patience. Six years was too damn long.

His hands found the hooks of your bra, and he made quick work of them, peeling the garment from your body and tossing it over his shoulder. He pulled back for just a second, just long enough to admire the sight of you, bare, breathless, your eyes fully dilated.

“Damn, Doll” he whispered, voice almost reverent. 

Then his mouth was on you, trailing down your neck hotly, over your collarbone, lower, until his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking, groaning when your fingers tangled in his hair, when your body arched into his mouth.

“Feel so good,” he murmured against your skin, voice wrecked.

His hands roamed lower, curling around your thighs, gripping hard as he lifted you effortlessly, walking you backward until your spine hit the cool surface of the wall.

Bucky looked up at you then, eyes burning, voice nothing but gravel.

“Hold on tight, Baby. I ain’t letting you go this time.

Bucky pressed a kiss into you, his hard length grinding against your soaked panties. The heat of him, the sheer size of him, had you trembling.

"Need inside you, Doll… so fucking hard for you," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

You gasped as he rocked into you, your damp panties and his boxers doing little to separate the friction between you. Your hips rolled in response, dragging a throaty grunt from his lips.

"Fuck!"

Bucky hooked a finger into your panties, yanking them to the side. The first brush of his bare cock against your slick folds sent a shudder through you. It was heaven. The aching kind. The kind you felt.

"Bucky, please!"

You needed to feel him again after so long.

His thick cock slid through your folds, coating himself in your arousal, teasing your clit with every slow stroke. You felt everything, the ridges, the veins, the swollen head nudging at your entrance.

At the same time, his mouth latched onto your nipple, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. His calloused fingers kneaded the roundness of your ass, pulling unashamed whimpers from your throat.

"Mine," Bucky growled.

Your breath hitched. But just as you prepared for that first, deep thrust, he pulled back.

You gasped in protest.

"Gonna fuck you proper, though. In a bed."

You let out a breathless laugh as Bucky scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to his bedroom. He laid you out, spreading your legs as he loomed over you, devouring the sight. His manicured nails dragged over your thighs in a slow, teasing stroke.

Your breath stuttered with anticipation.

"Be a good girl for me," he murmured, eyes dark with intent. "And grab my hair if you need to."

Confusion flickered in your eyes, until you felt your legs being thrown over his shoulders. Then, Bucky was between your thighs.

You scrambled up on your elbows, heat rushing to your face as he spread you open with two fingers, stroking the sensitive, slick folds hidden beneath. His gaze locked onto your glistening sex, mesmerized.

"So beautiful, Lark."

Your breath came in shallow gasps as he ran his fingers through your wetness, spreading it.

"So wet… dripping… coating my fingers, Baby."

The filthy words, the intensity of his stare, made fresh arousal seep from you. Your inner walls clenched around nothing, aching for more.

"Pinch those nipples for me," Bucky rasped,

Your lips parted in shock, but his stare was unwavering. With a shaky breath, you obeyed.

The added sensation sent pleasure rippling through you, making your back arch, your ass pressing into the mattress as Bucky pumped his fingers nice and slow. The other hand fisted around his cock, stroking in time with the movement inside you.

Your gaze dropped to watch him touch himself as he touched you. Fuck.

A gush of slick spilled from you. Bucky cursed under his breath, scissoring his fingers, stretching you, preparing you.

"So fucking tight, Doll. Need to get you ready."

Then, his head dipped lower. Your gasp filled the room. Bucky smirked.

"Why so shocked?" he taunted. "You act like you haven’t had sex since I borrowed Johnny’s car—"

He stopped.

Your face must have given you away because his own softened instantly.

"Oh, shit."

His tone was different now, understanding. 

"It’s okay, Baby. I got you."

Determination flashed in his blue eyes as he leaned down again, brushing a featherlight kiss against your most sensitive place. It was intimate. Like he was kissing your mouth.

Then, he licked into you, slow and deliberate, and your world shattered. Lightning coursed through your veins as your thighs instinctively clamped around his head. Your fingers fisted in his curls, tugging mercilessly.

Bucky groaned in approval, his tongue swirling, sucking, worshiping. Every swipe, every firm drag, every deep flick had you writhing beneath him, riding his face, chasing oblivion.

When he pried your thighs apart and plunged two fingers back inside, curling them just right, you detonated. 

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body seizing, your walls fluttering around his fingers as a flood of wetness spilled into his mouth.

"Bucky!"

He pulled back, lips glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

"S’okay, Baby. It’s natural."

Then he leaned down again. And drank from you like a man dying of thirst.

You whimpered, overwhelmed, your body trembling as he held you down, refusing to let you escape. The overstimulation was brutal, unbearable.

Too much, too good.

"Really have been such a good girl for me…" he murmured against your sensitive skin.

Then, his voice dropped to something sinful.

"Gonna give you this cock you been waiting for."

When he finally kissed you, his lips slick with you, the last shred of restraint dissolved.

You moaned into his mouth as he lined himself up, dragging the thick, swollen head of his cock through your drenched folds. He parted your lips, teasing you with tiny, torturous strokes. Then, with a sharp slap, he tapped his cock against your clit, making you cry out.

"Shit, Doll…" 

Bucky’s voice was strained, his jaw tight as he fought for control. You rolled your hips, desperate, pleading.

"Inside, please!"

"You’re gonna feel… so… goodddd…"

He bit it out through clenched teeth as he pushed forward slow, steady, and stretching you inch by inch. You choked on a moan as he filled you. He was so big. You had forgotten how thick, how deep, how perfect he felt inside you.

"Ohhhhhh, Bucky!"

"Right here, Baby."

His eyes locked onto you, greedily drinking in your bouncing breasts, your trembling stomach, the way your body took him. The sight alone nearly ended him. His head dropped back, his grip on you tightening as he bottomed out, grinding his hips into yours, making you wail in pleasure.

"You feel amazing… so fucking good. Never felt anything like this, I swear, Lark."

Your walls clenched around him, and Bucky’s face twisted, his control slipping.

"I need you to cum all over my dick."

You gasped as his hand found your clit, circling it with the same practiced precision that always ruined you. His other hand pinched your nipple, sending another bolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Cum for me, Doll."

You had no choice. Your body seized, pleasure obliterating you as you came, gushing around his cock, wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through you.

Bucky’s grip turned bruising as he drove into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His breath caught. 

"Mine!" he growled. 

And his release filled you, thick and hot, as his body shuddered violently against yours.

And in that moment, tangled together, sweat-slicked and sated, you both knew

You were his again.

—--

Bucky collapsed beside you, chest heaving, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You did the same, but while he was basking in the afterglow, warmth spreading through his chest like hope, your stomach twisted into knots.

"Where you going, Lark?"

His voice was thick with exhaustion, but he still caught the way you shifted, the way your body tensed before you sat up.

"Bathroom," you murmured, already moving. "Need to clean up."

Something flickered in his eyes, something soft, something real. But the moment you slipped away, his hope dimmed just a little.

You disappeared into the harsh fluorescent glow of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

—--

Bucky sat at the edge of the bed, watching as you slipped your shoes back on. You moved quickly, deliberately. Like you’d planned your exit before you ever walked through his door.

"You don’t have to run out like this," he said, voice rough.

You hesitated, just for a second, before fastening your coat.

"I have to get home."

Bucky’s fingers flexed against the sheets.

"Home."

He rolled the word over his tongue. He didn’t like the way it tasted.

Your gaze lifted, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered there, regret, and sorrow buried so deep he almost missed it.

Bucky nodded, jaw tight. He had questions. Too many. But he knew you wouldn’t answer them.

So he let you go.

But that didn’t mean he was letting this go.

—-----

Bucky sat in the back of the Continental, silent as Steve drove.

He hadn’t said a word since Steve muttered, “I’ll take you to where she lives.”

Vegas never slept, but the streets were quiet this early. Bucky stared out the window, jaw clenched.

He should’ve stopped you from leaving. Should’ve asked the damn questions instead of letting you walk out. But you were good at slipping away. You’d done it before.

Not this time.

Steve glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"You sure about this?"

Bucky’s eyes stayed on the road ahead.

"Just drive."

Steve sighed but didn’t argue. The car veered off the Strip, where the lights weren’t as bright, where the buildings weren’t as tall, where the money wasn’t as loud. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but it sure as hell wasn’t where Bucky expected you to be.

The car slowed.

A modest duplex came into view, its porch light flickering on.

Bucky barely registered anything beyond you were here. Until he saw the front door open.

You stepped out, wrapped in a housecoat, makeup gone, hair wrapped in a scarf. Then you walked to the neighboring unit. And knocked. The door cracked open.

And out ran a little boy.

Bucky sat up straighter, his breath hitching as the kid bolted toward you, dark messy hair bouncing, big blue eyes shining as he laughed, launching himself into your waiting arms.

You caught him effortlessly, hugging him close, whispering something into his ear.

Like you’d done it a thousand times before.

Because you had.

The realization hit like a bullet to the ribs.

You had a son.

Bucky’s world tilted.

Then, the boy’s voice, small and sleepy, carried through the quiet street.

"Mama, you’re home."

His breath left him in a rush.

"Yes, Jamie, I’m home."

Steve tensed, hands gripping the wheel.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists.

"Buck—"

"Drive," he rasped. The word barely made it past his lips.

Steve hesitated.

"Now."

The car pulled away, but Bucky’s eyes stayed locked on you.

Six years.

Six years, and you had kept this from him.

—---

The moment Jamie crashed into your arms, the world melted away.

"Mama, you’re home!"

You exhaled shakily, smoothing his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Miss Thea stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her housecoat, watching with quiet understanding. She didn’t ask questions. Never had. Just gave you a slow nod before retreating inside.

Jamie yawned, burrowing into your shoulder, his little arms tightening around your neck.

"You smell funny," he mumbled sleepily.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shifting him in your arms.

"Yeah? What do I smell like?"

Jamie blinked up at you, barely awake.

"Like trouble," he sighed.

Your breath caught.

A chill danced down your spine, one you always felt when Bucky was near. Slowly, your eyes lifted, scanning the street.

Nothing. No car. No sign of him. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been here.

You swallowed hard, clutching Jamie closer as you stepped inside, locking the door behind you. You couldn’t shake the feeling.

Bucky knew.

And no matter how much you wanted to believe you could keep him away….You knew better.

James Buchanan Barnes was coming for you.

For both of you.

[kxsagi]

hey girl....imma...imma need u to write ab the whole... bicep crushing thing w Isagi cuz.. now u got me thinking 😈😈😩

“𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢’𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧”

a/n: need to see his biceps and triceps flexed as he grips the headboard 

yeah i’m down bad so i made two parts 🙁 (second part is a little suggestive)

“𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐚”

one look at your boyfriend and you only have one thought: #needthat. 

isagi stood by the kitchen counter, leaning against it lazily with one hand holding his phone, the other casually gripping a glass of water. his thumb scrolled absentmindedly, but your eyes? glued to the way his bicep flexed subtly each time he lifted the glass. the veins along his forearm shifted with every movement, stretching across his skin like delicate, winding rivers taunting you. 

you were supposed to be doing something productive. anything, really. but instead, you sat at the table, chin in your hand, fully mesmerized by the spectacle that was isagi existing. 

“you good?” his voice snapped you out of your blatant gawking, and you realized you’d been staring for way too long. his brow arched slightly, though there was a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. he knew. and oh how much it boosted his ego. 

“hm? yeah, just… thinking,” you lied through your teeth. 

but then he did it. the absolute audacity. he set the glass down and stretched. arms raised above his head, shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of toned abs, but that wasn’t even the problem. the problem was the way his biceps peaked, perfectly rounded and taut, as he locked his fingers together, letting out a small sigh. 

and you? done for. 

“you’re still staring,” he pointed out, lowering his arms, but instead of dropping them to his sides, he bent one and flexed slightly, pretending to stretch his shoulder. oh, he was absolutely messing with you now. 

you scoffed dramatically, feigning annoyance. “don’t flatter yourself.” 

but isagi, being the menace he was, smirked wider. “flatter myself?” he mused, flexing again, just subtly, enough for you to notice. “nah, you’re the one doing all the flattering with your eyes.” 

your face felt hot. and it only got worse when he casually walked over and placed his hands on either side of your chair, leaning down slightly. the proximity gave you a front-row seat to the definition in his arms, the way his triceps curved beneath his skin, the warmth radiating off him. 

“wanna feel?” his voice was low, teasing, but it made your breath catch. 

you blinked, caught between playing it cool and completely folding. spoiler alert: you folded. instantly. without another word, you reached out, brushing your fingers along the firm muscle. warm, smooth skin stretched over pure strength. you squeezed lightly, your hand barely able to fit around his bicep. 

“jeez,” you muttered under your breath. “these things should be illegal.” 

isagi chuckled, and you could feel the vibration of his laugh through his arm. “should they?” he teased, bringing his face a little closer, his breath fanning over your ear. “you seemed pretty interested in them a second ago.” 

you glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the way you were still clinging to his arm. “don’t be cocky.” 

he leaned in further, lips just grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “too late.”

“𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐩 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧”

you should’ve known better. you really should’ve. 

it started innocently enough – playful, teasing, nothing serious. you were lying on the couch, your legs draped over isagi’s lap while he scrolled on his phone, absentmindedly tracing patterns along your shin with his thumb. soft. casual. domestic. 

but then your eyes wandered (because how could they not?) to the way his forearm flexed slightly as he adjusted his grip. the shift was subtle, but you caught it – the faint ridge of muscle, the delicate winding of veins beneath his skin. and just like that, you were done for. 

you stared a little too long. and isagi? he noticed. 

“you good?” he muttered, not looking away from his phone. 

you hummed, feigning nonchalance. “mhm, just thinking.” 

“about what?” 

you glanced at his arm again. mistake. your fingers twitched slightly against his thigh. the urge was too strong. you reached out before you could stop yourself, lightly squeezing the bulk of his bicep. 

and you had the audacity to say, “huh… not that big.” 

his head snapped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. oh, you were asking for it. 

he didn’t say a word, just slowly set his phone down on the coffee table. the shift was deliberate. predatory. when he turned back to you, there was a faint glimmer in his eyes, something dangerous and amused all at once. 

“what was that?” he asked, voice low and steady. too steady. if you wanna test him like that, you have to be ready for it. 

you blinked at him innocently, playing dumb. “what?” 

his gaze dipped to where your hand still rested on his bicep. “not that big, huh?” 

before you could offer some snarky retort, he moved. suddenly. swiftly. in one smooth motion, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you beneath him, caging you against the couch with his arms braced on either side of your head. 

your breath caught. his face was only inches from yours, but you barely noticed. no, you were far too distracted by the wall of muscle surrounding you. his forearms, thick and unyielding, pressed into the cushion beside your face, framing you completely. 

“still not big enough?” he muttered, voice low and teasing, but there was a heat behind it that made your stomach tighten. 

you couldn’t answer. not when he shifted lower, bringing his chest flush against yours, and wrapped his arms around you. 

and then? he squeezed. 

slowly. deliberately. his biceps flexing against your back, the solid muscle closing around you like evil. warm, firm, and completely unforgiving. 

your breath hitched. “oh my gosh –” 

his arms tightened further, just slightly, enough to steal the air from your lungs. you squirmed, but the more you struggled, the harder his hold became. his biceps flexed again, the muscle shifting and pressing against your ribs, making it almost impossible to breathe without feeling him everywhere. 

“too tight?” he murmured near your ear, voice dark with mock concern. 

you shook your head weakly, your fingers gripping at the unyielding muscle. 

“no?” he taunted softly, his breath warm against your skin. “then let me…” his arms flexed subtly again, the veins in his forearms pulsing faintly beneath his skin, “hold you a little tighter.” 

and he did. slowly and thoroughly. 

you could feel the strain of his biceps beneath your palms, the way the muscles coiled, dense and unrelenting, keeping you locked against him. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as you tried to get some semblance of leverage, but he was immovable. 

his chest pressed against yours, warm and solid, each breath making the cage of his arms press into you further. you let out a soft gasp against his throat, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as your body went pliant beneath his strength. 

“yoichi…” you barely managed to breathe out, voice muffled against his skin. 

his lips brushed your temple, a dark chuckle escaping him. “what?” 

you squirmed slightly, your breath hitching when his arms flexed again, hard muscle coiling tighter around you. you felt it – the shift beneath his skin, the sheer force of it. crushing. suffocating. consuming. and yet? you didn’t pull away. 

no, instead, you clung to him, fingers tracing along the tense ridges of his arms, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 

“tighter,” you whispered, half-daring, half-pleading. 

he froze slightly against you, his breath catching for just a fraction of a second, before he grinned against your skin. 

“you’re dangerous,” he muttered softly, but his arms obeyed anyway, flexing harder. pulling you in so snugly against him that your ribs practically caved into his chest, breathless and overwhelmed. 

and still? you didn’t tell him to stop. 

his lips brushed along your throat, teeth grazing gently against your skin. slow. deliberate. 

and then? he stilled. just for a second. 

his arms were still snug around you, keeping you completely captive, but he shifted back slightly, just enough to look at you. really look at you. 

your eyes met his, wide and slightly dazed, chest heaving faintly from the lack of air, but still, you didn’t pull away. you just stared up at him, your fingers still trembling slightly against the bulk of his arms. 

“you like this, huh?” his voice was a low rasp, but there was something softer in it now, something dangerously tender. 

you didn’t answer. you just tugged him down, pressing your lips softly to his. slow. deliberate. deep. 

he groaned softly against your mouth, arms still holding you tight, still keeping you locked against him. but this time, he kissed you slower. deeper. his lips moving against yours like he had all the time in the world. 

he didn’t let go. didn’t loosen his hold. no, he kept you right where you were, completely encased by him. 

and when he finally pulled back, just slightly, his breath warm against your lips, he whispered softly: 

“mine.” 

and with one slow, final squeeze, you melted entirely into him. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[anakinstwinklebunny]

What if 😏 Reader is helping Anakin get with Padme but he falls for reader in the process or sometinggg like that hehe

PAIRING: anakin skywalker x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

author's note: I don't like how i wrote this but wanted to clean off my drafts 🧍🏻‍♀️and ignore them kissing in the middle of the Jedi temple garden..

It started with an innocent favor.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER was dead set on winning Padmé Amidala’s heart. He’d introduced you to his plan like you had no choice, and, well, you didn’t. Not when he made those pleading eyes and that lopsided grin that always seemed to crack your unsureness.

So yes, you agreed, but only because you were his closest friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there through the worse, the battles, and those happy times. If anyone could help him charm a senator, it was you.

But somewhere along the way, things got complicated.

“Okay, try it again,” you sighed, arms crossed as you leaned against the railing in the Jedi Temple gardens. The sun was dipping low, casting the courtyard in golden glow. You had been doing this for hour straight, and if you were meant to be honest, it was already tiring for you. “And maybe this time, don’t sound like you’re trying to deliver a political speech. She has enough of those”

Anakin groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not good at this romantic stuff. Why couldn’t she just fall for me after I saved her life a dozen times?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the ache in your chest at his words. After all, who would have known you would develop an interesting crush on your best friend? So hearing him constantly talk about other woman really twisted a knife in your heart “Because women aren’t swooning over lightsaber skills alone, Skywalker. Now, go on. Say it like you mean it.”

He hesitated, looking everywhere but at you. “Padmé, I—”

“Stop.” You held up a hand. “You’re staring at the floor again. Look at me. Pretend I’m her.”

The shift in his gaze was almost..weird. When his eyes locked on yours, there was something so intense that made your throat tighten involuntary. For a second, you forgot what you were doing, literally, just standing there with your cheeks flushed..

“Padmé,” he started again, voice low, almost trembling. “I think about you all the time. You're in my heart, in my soul, tormenting me. I… I want to be the one you come to when you’re afraid. When you’re happy. When you need someone to hold you—”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You held back something between a groan and an eye roll...Well, you still had to learn to let feeling go. Because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t for you. You forced a tight smile and clapped your hands. “Better. Much better. Now—”

“I can’t say this to her.” He shook his head, hands twitching at his sides before running down his face. “...it’s not her I’m thinking about when I say it.”

“Anakin—”

“It’s you.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and unsteady. “I..fuck..i-it’s always been you.."

Your heart dropped.

“What?”

Never in your life your mind scrambled, spun and tried its hardest to catch up at what was going on like now. Yet, out of a sudden, he stepped even closer, close enough that you could see every little imperfection on his already angelic face when your nostrils filled in with his scent

“Anakin, you’re just—confused,” you stammered. “You’ve been so focused on Padmé, you—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, voice breaking slightly. “Don’t tell me I don’t mean it. Or that Im fucking lunatic. Don't do that when I finally have a freaking guts to admit it..." He exhaled a nervous breath "I see it now. Every time I looked at her, every time I tried to imagine a future with her… it wasn’t right. It didn't feel right..I didn't feel right..Because..well, it wasn’t you.”

You tried to step back, but his hand caught your wrist, his touch being gentle yet firm. “I don’t care what you think this is,” he murmured, tone almost pleading. “Just- just tell me you feel the same..tell me you can't function properly like I do, without you by my side.."

You tried to step back, but his hand caught your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm. “I don’t care what you think this is,” he murmured, tone almost pleading. “Just- just tell me you feel the same..tell me you can't function properly like I do, without you by my side.."

You couldn’t lie. Not to him. Not when the truth had been clawing at you for years, months, ever since you met him.

“Ani…I--” your voice cracked, and his name fell from your lips like a confession he needed to hear.

In an instant, his lips were on yours, desperate, searching, as if he’d been holding himself back for far too long. Large hands cupped your face, pulling you even closer, and you melted into him despite every warning in your mind. You didn’t care anymore. Not about Padmé, not about the damn rules, not about anything except the way Anakin was kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, like you were his only source of air.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl

[antonsbf]

The Scandal- jake x male reader

chapter 005

summary: Jake is caught in a scandal, and the group’s manager suggests a fake relationship with a mysterious boy to fix it

(previous chapter) (next chapter)

the after-party was in full swing, music thrumming through the air, flashing lights illuminating the venue in waves of gold and violet. Jake moved through the crowd, barely registering the congratulations and cheers thrown his way. his thoughts were still tangled in the aftermath of the interview, in the way Y/N had bolted so suddenly, leaving behind a storm of whispers.

as he reached for a drink, a voice cut through the noise.

“rough night?”

jake turned to see the interviewer from earlier, standing beside him with a knowing smirk.

“you again,” jake muttered, narrowing his eyes.

the interviewer chuckled. “didn’t expect to see me here? guess we run in the same circles now.” he swirled the drink in his hand, eyes flickering toward the crowd. ���you looked pretty shaken after that interview.”

jake scoffed. “if you’re here to flaunt, don’t bother.”

“oh, i wouldn’t dream of it,” the interviewer said smoothly. “i just find it interesting how little you seem to know about your own… partner.”

jake’s grip on his glass tightened. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

the interviewer hummed, taking a slow sip before continuing. “let’s just say Y/N and i go way back. back before the cameras, the stages, the glitz and glamor.” he tilted his head, studying jake’s reaction. “i’m surprised he hasn’t told you about it....since you know, y'all are dating? right?"

jake’s jaw clenched. "if you have something to say, say it.”

the interviewer grinned. “oh, i think you’ll figure it out soon enough.” he patted jake’s shoulder before walking off, disappearing into the crowd.

jake stood frozen for a moment, unease creeping into his chest. the words replayed in his head, setting off a series of unanswered questions. what was Y/N hiding? and why did it feel like he was the only one left in the dark?

his gaze landed on Y/N near the bar, shoulders tense as he stared into his untouched drink. without another thought, jake pushed through the crowd, his mind made up.

jake didn’t slow his steps as he made his way toward Y/N, his heart pounding with frustration and confusion. the interviewer’s words echoed at him, just vague enough to be infuriating but sharp enough to make him question everything.

“you ran off pretty fast back there,” jake said the moment he reached Y/N. his voice was even, but his eyes searched Y/N’s face for any crack in his calm mask.

Y/N exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his glass. “didn’t feel like answering those question.”

“because you knew what it would lead to?” jake pressed, stepping closer. “who was that guy? why did he act like he knew something about you that i don’t?”

Y/N turned fully to face him, his expression unreadable. “an old friend. that’s all.”

jake scoffed. “right. an old friend who conveniently brings up your past the second you sit down for an interview? come on, Y/N. he knew exactly what he was doing, and judging by the way you ran, he wasn’t wrong.”

Y/N clenched his jaw. the weight of the moment pressed down on him, the secret he’d been holding for so long suddenly too heavy to bear. his silence only made Jake’s frustration grow.

“you know what? fine,” jake bit out. “if you don’t want to tell me the truth, i’ll just ask him. he seemed more than happy to drop hints about your past.”

Y/N’s eyes darkened, and his entire body tensed. “what did he say to you?”

“nothing that useful,” jake admitted, tilting his head. “but enough to make me wonder why you didn’t tell me yourself.”

Y/N looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line. jake shook his head, anger bubbling up.

“you could’ve told me,” Jake said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “from the beginning, you could’ve just said why you were doing this. i get it! this whole thing was fake, we both agreed to it. but i thought—” he hesitated, forcing out a breath before meeting Y/N’s gaze again. “i thought we were in this together.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with something, regret, maybe, but he said nothing.

jake laughed, but there was no humor in it. “was it really that hard to trust me?”

Y/N inhaled sharply before speaking. “at first, all of this! the fake dating, the appearances, the public moments. i was just following orders. i signed a contract when i was a young trainee, one that dictated my career and my personal life. this arrangement wasn’t my choice.”

jake stiffened. “so they forced you into this.”

“i didn’t have a choice,” Y/N admitted, voice heavy. “but then… something changed. i started wanting to be around you. i started caring about you, about how you saw me, about what we were building together. it stopped being about the company.” he looked down, his voice quieter now. “i stopped pretending.”

jake exhaled sharply, his emotions warring inside him. he wanted to be angry. he wanted to stay hurt. but the worst part? a part of him understood.

still, it didn’t erase the sting of it.

“do you know how messed up this is?” jake muttered, shaking his head. “i get why you didn’t tell the media. i get why you didn’t tell anybody. but me? you couldn’t even tell me?”

“i was scared,” Y/N admitted. “i didn’t know how you’d react.”

jake let out a hollow laugh. “yeah? well, maybe you should’ve started earlier with that.", he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing alone, regret covered into his features.

the media storm erupted overnight. leaked footage of the heated argument spread like wildfire, accompanied by speculation and twisted narratives. fans debated, rumors spiraled, and theories ran crazy. had the relationship been fake? Was Y/N hiding something deeper? why had he left the interview so suddenly?

jake scrolled through article after article, each headline more sensational than the last. his phone buzzed nonstop, calls from the manager, texts from the concerned members, even a few from Y/N himself, all of which he ignored. he wasn’t ready to face any of it.

meanwhile, Y/N found himself cornered in a quiet part of the city, away from prying eyes. he had agreed to meet the interviewer, his former trainee friend, hoping for answers, or maybe just closure.

the moment he arrived, the other man smirked. “rough night?”

Y/N crossed his arms. “why did you do it?”

the smirk widened. “because you don’t deserve this life. you were just some nobody trainee, and now you’re out here acting like you belong among idols? please.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. “this is about jealousy?”

“call it what you want.” the interviewer pulled out his phone, showing Y/N a folder of files. “i have everything. the contract, your past, all of it. and I’m going to publish it. the world deserves to know what kind of liar you are.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “you don’t have to do this.”

the interviewer/ex-trainee scoffed. “of course i do. this industry eats people alive, and i’m done watching it happen. you, though? you just let it happen. you let them control you like a puppet.”

Y/N stiffened. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“i know enough,” the ex-trainee shot back. “i know you signed your life away just to stay relevant. and i know the second i release this, the world is going to see what idols like you are really worth to these companies.” he smirked. “nothing.”

Y/N’s pulse pounded. “so that’s it? you’re going to drag me down just to make a statement?”

the smirk waver. “i’m telling the truth.”

“no. you’re using me as a way to get revenge on the company, on the industry, on whatever it is that made you bitter,” Y/N snapped. “if you really cared about exposing the system, you wouldn’t be coming after me like this. you’d be going after them.”

the ex-trainee’s expression twisted. “you think they’ll listen unless it’s personal? you think anyone cares unless there’s a scandal attached?” he took a step closer. “you made your choice, Y/N. and now I’m making mine.”

Y/N’s hands curled into fists. he wanted to argue, to fight back, but he knew the damage was already done. if the ex-trainee had evidence of his contract, there was no stopping him.

but maybe there was another way.

Y/N turned on his heel and walked away, his mind racing. there was only one person he could go to now.

jake sat in his dorm, his phone lighting up every few seconds with notifications. he ignored them all, scrolling blankly through the news. headlines flashed across his screen:

"Rising Idol Caught in Explosive Scandal—What Are They Hiding?""Industry Secrets: Is Y/N’s Career Built on Lies?"

jake let out a slow breath. it was overwhelming, but it wasn’t what made his chest feel tight. no, that came from something deeper. from knowing that Y/N had been dealing with this alone the entire time.

a knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. he hesitated before standing up and opening it.

(change to y/n pov)

i stood there, my shoulders tense, my hands clammy. my voice came out quieter than i wanted. “can we talk?”

jake stared at me for a moment before stepping aside. i walked in quickly, exhaling like i’d been holding my breath the entire time.

he crossed his arms. “so?”

i looked down, then forced myself to meet his gaze. “i should’ve told you the truth from the beginning.”

jake didn’t say anything, just waited. the silence made my chest feel tight.

i dragged a hand through my hair. “the contract...it wasn’t just about controlling my career. it controlled everything. i signed it when i was young, thinking it was my only chance. and then they told me about this arrangement with you, and i agreed because i thought… i thought it was just another part of the job.” my throat felt dry. “but then it wasn’t.”

jake’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes made my stomach twist.

i swallowed hard and pushed forward, my voice barely above a whisper now. “i started wanting to be around you for real. i wanted to tell you. i just—” my breath shook. “i was scared.”

jake’s voice was steady when he finally spoke. “scared of what?”

i let out a small, bitter laugh. “that you’d hate me.” my hands curled into fists at my sides. “that you’d see me the way everyone else does now...just a fraud.”

jake frowned slightly. “i don’t see you like that.”

my heart jumped. i snapped my gaze up, searching his face for any sign of doubt. “then why did you walk away?”

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “because it hurt. not that the relationship started as fake, i knew that already. but you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth about why. and that made me wonder if anything between us was ever real.”

the words hit harder than i expected. i took a small step forward before i could stop myself. “it was.” the words tumbled out fast, too desperate. “it is.”

jake held my gaze, like he was trying to see if i really meant it. i did. more than anything.

after what felt like forever, he exhaled. “okay.”

i blinked. “okay?”

a small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “i’m still mad at you, but… i get it.” he shook his head. “we can’t change what already happened. but if we’re doing this, if we’re facing whatever happens next, i need you to be honest with me from now on.”

i nodded quickly. “i will.”

jake nodded back, and then suddenly, he stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.

my breath hitched. my whole body froze for a split second before warmth wrapped around me, and i sank into it. my hands gripped the fabric of his shirt before i could even think about it. my face burned as a blush crept up my neck, my heart hammering so loudly i was sure he could hear it.

in his embrace, the whole world went quiet. i didn’t think about the media, the company, the managers, the contracts, or even that piece of shit threatening to ruin my career. for the first time in what felt like forever, i wasn’t drowning in all of it.

his voice was quiet, steady. “whatever happens next, we’ll deal with it together.”

i shut my eyes for a moment, my forehead pressing lightly against his shoulder. my grip tightened just a little.

“yeah,” i whispered.

and for the first time in a long time, i actually believed it.

soooooooo how do we feel about the next chapter being the last? i hope i can bring an exciting conclusion. please keep supporting me! i’ll be making more fanfics to feed our delusions after this. <33- eil

[81pastrys]

pls make a story with lando's child (but i prefer a son) wants to do equestrian instead of racing

Racing Talks

Summary— Lando wants to get his son a kart for his birthday, but his son doesn’t want to do kart racing…

Warnings— disappointment?

A/N— you ask and you shall receive 🙂‍↕️

Lando had been waiting for Luka to come of age to ask to do karting. When they had sat down and Lando talked about buying him a kart for his birthday his son sank in his seat a bit disappointed.

“Oh.. thanks dad.” He nodded his head, he didn’t want to break his dad’s heart, but it seems he already had. “I’ll do karting!” He perked up hoping that would cheer Lando up, but Lando had already caught the previous emotion and stuck with it.

“You talk about karting all the time, I thought you would be happier?” Lando wasn’t scolding his son, but was more confused. Luka did talk about racing a lot, but it wasn’t car racing he was interested in. “Would you want me to get you something else?” Lando offered.

“Well, I..” Luka really didn’t want to push the talk on more, merely uninterested in the conversation now. “A horse? Like Aunt Flo has?” He hesitated and Lando nodded his head. He knew his son like the back of his hand, or so he thought. “I’ll be happy if you bought the kart already!”

“No, no! I wanted to tell you so you could pick it out.” Lando explained. “If you want a racing horse instead, I can do that Luka.” He didn’t want to shadow what his son really wanted. If horse racing was that, he was all for it. “What if we call Aunt Flo and talk with her?” He offered.

That seemed to do the trick, Luka’s face lighting up with joy as they called the Equestrian Racer. They talked for hours about good starter horses and whatnot. Lando was thankful his son picked a sport that was in the family.

When it was all said and done, Luka got his own horse. He started doing lessons on racing and within the next few years got to his first race, Lando’s family there with all the support.

“Do good out there yeah?” Lando said. “Make me proud.” He kissed Luka’s helmet and Flo gave him a run down, again, about how it will work.

“I’ve been training for like 4 years Aunt Flo, I got this.” He scoffed. He was glad he ended up with his horse rather than a kart. Lando was too, his passion for racing was passed on to his son. Just a different division.

He ended the race in 3rd. A first time junior rider getting 3rd was unheard of, managers scrounging to find Lando and Flo to offer sponsors for the boy. They were ecstatic to accept once Luka approved. When he loaded his horse and returned they gave him all the praises.

“5 people want to sponsor you.” Flo said. “Me sponsoring you just isn’t enough apparently.” She joked rolling her eyes.

“My son got the god genes!” Lando quipped. They brought him out to dinner and then headed out for a race the next day. Two different races but the same passion shared.

Luka still had a lot of knowledge of F1 racing, just admired equestrian racing more. What made everything settle in him from getting 3rd was when a graphic popped up on the tv. “Luka Norris! Youngest Junior Equestrian Rider ever to get 3rd on his first race!” He smiled at the camera pointing to him and waved.

I actually did my research so Lando’s son is about 8-9 in the start and then 12-13 when he races

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