#that's what she used and i'm not taking that from her

[danysdaughter]

Drown Me Gently

pairing | new!avenger!bucky x siren!reader

word count | 6.6k words

summary | a half-siren joins the new avengers, hiding centuries of shame beneath skin that was never yours to begin with. but when bucky barnes sees past the danger to the devastating loneliness underneath, the monster you fear you are finally begins to unravel.

tags | THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS, (kind of ig) unprotected sex, comfort sex, emotional intimacy, hurt/comfort, emotional angst, identity crisis, soft!bucky, dark past, trust issues, body horror (light), self-hatred, non-accurate siren mythology, mutual pining, reader backstory, deep emotional healing, sensual tension, dark past, post-trauma connection

a/n | chat, I've literally had this fic in my drafts for almost a month. I lowkey don't know if I like this or not, anyway tell me what you think about it, because I'm second guessing. also based on this request

taglist | if you wanna be added to my bucky barnes masterlist just add your username to my taglist

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

You barely had a chance to take a seat before the interrogation began.

“Do you have gills?” Yelena asked, leaning forward like she was inspecting a specimen. “Or do they only show up when you're wet?”

You blinked. “Um—”

“Wait, hold on.” Ava cut in, arms crossed. “Do you eat people? Like, in a sexy way? Or like… teeth and blood?”

“Neither?”

Bob’s eyes lit up. “But hypothetically, if you were shipwrecked, would you rather lure sailors to their deaths or just vibe on a rock singing Adele?”

“I don’t—”

“Also,” Alexei boomed, squinting at you. “How do you have babies with tail? Is it like seahorses? Or salmon?”

“Why would it be like salmon?” Ava muttered.

“Maybe she lays eggs,” Bob said thoughtfully. “Do you lay eggs?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. This had to be a test. Some kind of extremely unorthodox hazing ritual.

“I’m sorry,” you finally managed. “Are these actual questions or did you all just watch The Little Mermaid before I got here?”

Walker, inexplicably sipping a protein shake at 8am, nodded solemnly. “So... do you explode if you drink salt water?”

You stared. “I'm from the ocean.”

“And what about chlorinated water,” he asked, completely serious.

Yelena snorted.

Before the next round of nonsense could begin, a voice cut through the chaos.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

You turned. Bucky stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His eyes settled on you for a beat too long.

“Give her a second to breathe before you start asking about mating rituals.”

“Thank you,” you breathed.

He moved past the others, walking toward you with measured steps. You hadn’t realized how tense your shoulders were until he got close enough that the rest of the room seemed to dim around him.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, but couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Do you ask all the new recruits about their reproductive methods, or just me?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Only the ones who are rumored to eat people.”

────────────────────────

A Few Days Later

You sat on the edge of the couch like a guest who wasn’t sure if they were invited or accidentally wandered in. Your posture was perfect, hands folded neatly in your lap, gaze fixed somewhere safe—like the TV that no one had turned on.

Yelena flopped down beside you with the grace of a feral cat. “You don’t talk much,” she observed bluntly. “Which is fine. Some of us overshare to make up for our emotional repression.”

“That’s just you,” Ava said from the kitchen, balancing a tray of chips and something that might’ve been experimental dip.

“Correct.”

Alexei hovered behind you, inexplicably trying to angle a photo of his dog toward your face. “This is Misha. He was trained to kill before he was housebroken. You would get along.”

“I’m… sure he’s lovely,” you replied politely, offering a tight smile.

Bob sat cross-legged on the floor like a camp counselor. “Okay, but seriously. Do you want anything to eat? We’ve got empanadas. And tofu stuff. And I think someone tried to make brownies.”

You shook your head. “Thank you. I’m not hungry.”

“No fish?” Walker smirked. “Or is it just... men on the menu?”

The room went dead quiet for half a second. Ava groaned.

“Really?” Yelena muttered.

“I’m a vegetarian,” you said quietly.

Walker blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s even more terrifying,” Bob said thoughtfully. “You choose not to eat meat. Yet you still eat men. For sport, right?”

“I do not eat men.”

“Sure,” Ava said with a shrug. “But if you did, it’d be poetic justice. Like, ‘Oops, your ship tried to colonize my homeland, now you're lunch.’”

You gave a tight-lipped smile again, but the joke didn’t quite sit right. They didn’t notice the way your gaze dropped or how your fingers fidgeted slightly at the hem of your sleeve.

Except Bucky.

He leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes on you in that quiet, unreadable way of his. Watching. Not judging. Just… observing. Carefully.

“You always like this?” Ava asked, circling to sit nearby. “Polite. Mysterious. Quiet. Like a goth librarian who also knows how to drown people with her mind?”

You hesitated. “I try not to make people uncomfortable.”

“You don’t,” Yelena said, popping a chip into her mouth. “We’re uncomfortable by default. It’s a trauma response.”

“You’re basically the least weird person in this room,” Bob added. “Which is suspicious in itself.”

That earned a small laugh from you—surprising even yourself. Heads turned, and you flushed faintly under the sudden attention.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. A sliver of trust cracked open just enough for light to slip through.

And across the room, Bucky eyes softened.

It had started with snacks and sarcasm. Someone had turned on a movie. Bob was quoting every line with annoying precision. Ava kept tossing popcorn into Walker’s protein shake. For a while, you had almost forgotten to be cautious.

Almost.

“Okay but seriously,” Yelena said, elbowing you gently, “you’ve got to let us see it sometime. The thing. With your voice.”

You hesitated. “It’s not something I do for fun.”

“But it’s, like... mind control, right?” Walker asked, overly casual. “Like Jedi mind tricks, but with falsetto?”

You glanced around. Ava watching with narrowed eyes, trying to read you. Bob leaned forward, too curious. Yelena still too close. Even Alexei had stopped mid-story. And Bucky—still across the room, still silent.

“It’s not mind control,” you said slowly. “It’s... influence.”

The air shifted.

“My voice can influence people. Not just emotion. Thought. Action.”

The joking stopped.

“And I can sense... intention. Urgency. Fear. Hunger. The things people hide.”

Then softly you added. “It’s not always... voluntary.”

There was something fragile in your voice then. Not a confession, but a warning.

Your gaze dropped to your hands, fingers curling in your lap. You could already feel it. The subtle recoil in their posture. Not loud, but enough. Enough for your pulse to tick faster, warning you.

“Damn,” John muttered. “So you just walk into a room and feel everyone’s business?”

“I try not to,” you replied, softly.

That landed harder than you meant it to.

The silence that followed was heavier than any you'd felt all day. Thick with the kind of unease you’d learned to recognize long before you joined this team. Not fear. Not rejection. Just... awareness. The realization that your power wasn’t theoretical anymore. It was here. With them. Listening.

You felt the wall go up in them before they even realized they were building it.

So you did what you always did. What you were best at.

You retreated.

Your shoulders folded in. Your body went still. Not dramatically. Not enough to cause a scene. Just... quieter. Smaller. Like someone sinking slowly beneath the surface of the sea.

No one said anything.

But from across the room, Bucky watched you carefully—jaw set, brow furrowed—not at you, but at the room. At the shift. At how fast they’d gone from teasing to tiptoeing.

And you?

You didn’t need to read anyone’s mind to feel how far away you suddenly were.

────────────────────────

Later That Night

The wind was soft out here. Almost warm, brushing past your bare arms with the gentleness of something that wasn’t trying to take anything from you. You sat curled on a narrow bench, knees pulled to your chest, chin resting lightly on them.

You hadn’t meant to be found. That was kind of the point.

So when the door behind you slid open, your heart sank just a little. Until you heard his footsteps. Quiet. Measured. Familiar now.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. Just moved beside you slowly and sat down, leaving a respectful distance between you.

“I figured you might be out here,” he said, voice low. Like he didn’t want to scare you off.

You didn’t look at him. “Why?”

“You didn’t say anything.”

The corners of your mouth turned up, barely. “Didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“You’re not. Just... noticed.”

For a while, you both sat in silence, the kind that wasn’t awkward. Just... open. A space you didn’t have to fill.

“I didn’t mean to make them uncomfortable,” you said finally. Voice soft. Still watching the stars.

“You didn’t,” he said automatically.

You turned your head, just a little. “You felt it.”

He paused. “I felt them realizing they don’t understand you yet. That’s different.”

You shook your head slowly. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

His eyes flicked to you. You didn’t see the way they narrowed.

“I know what I am,” you continued. “People don’t have to say it. I can feel it. The moment it shifts. That little breath of fear when they realize I can reach inside their heads without asking. It’s not wrong. I am what they think I am.”

You looked at him then, just briefly. Enough for him to see the resignation. The calm acceptance that only comes from long practice.

“A monster,” you said quietly.

His jaw clenched, barely. You saw it, even if he tried to hide it.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.” He turned toward you fully now. “You think you’re the only person on this team who’s scared of what they’ve done? What they’re capable of?”

You didn’t answer.

“You think any of us have clean hands?” His voice stayed even, but there was a tightness to it now. Not anger. Something closer to frustration. Or pained. “Ava’s killed for hire. Yelena was trained to be a weapon since she could walk. Walker…” He paused. “You saw the headlines.”

He let the silence hang for a beat.

“I spent seventy years hurting people with no choice. With no soul. If anyone here knows what it means to be used, to be feared—it’s me.”

You blinked. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because you're human.”

He stared at you. Then, quietly, “And you're not?”

You didn’t respond.

The wind picked up. You turned your head back toward the night.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then, softly, “You scare them a little. Yeah. But not because you’re a monster.”

You glanced at him.

“They just don’t know you yet. And people fear what they don’t understand. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try.”

You looked down at your hands, where your fingers were laced tight together. Like you were holding something in.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” he said.

And you believed him.

Not because his words were kind, but because they were quiet. Steady. Because they didn’t ask anything of you.

Because he didn’t look away.

And for the first time since you joined this mess of a team, you didn’t feel like a weapon waiting to be triggered.

You just felt... seen.

────────────────────────

Abandoned Shipping Yard

It was supposed to be a clean extraction. In and out. Minimal resistance. Ava had scoped the perimeter, Yelena laid out the breach pattern, Walker was already ten paces ahead being Walker, and Bucky had given you a nod just before the comms went live.

You were ready. Or you thought you were.

The cold air clung to your skin as you moved through the corridor of rusted containers. You kept to the shadows, as always, listening more than speaking, watching more than acting. A quiet presence, there when needed—never more.

The first wave of hostiles came fast—mercs, jittery and underpaid. Nothing the team couldn’t handle. You barely had to use your voice.

But something changed.

Second floor. A new group. More organized. You didn’t see them until they’d already flanked Alexei. You reacted before you thought—instinct firing faster than strategy.

They raised weapons.

And you hummed.

Not loud. Not full. Just enough to stop them.

A sound low in your throat, rich with warning and pressure and pull. It rolled over the air like a tide, a siren note pitched directly into their nerves.

They froze.

Then they turned.

Not toward Alexei.

Toward each other.

Guns half-raised. Hands twitching.

Confusion swelled, slow and dangerous. One man dropped his rifle. Another started crying. A third turned to face you like he couldn’t remember why he was holding a weapon at all.

Then Walker’s voice shouted through comms: “What the hell was that?!”

A sharp click—a trigger cocked.

Bucky got there first.

He shoved the last merc down before he could swing his weapon back around, snapping a zip tie around his wrists with clinical precision.

“Clear!” Yelena called from above.

“Room’s secure,” Ava confirmed, quieter, voice tinged with something more cautious.

You stood in the center of the room, throat tight, breath short. The air still trembled faintly with the residue of your voice.

Everyone was looking at you.

No one said anything.

Until Walker.

“Was that you?” he asked, not angry—just stunned. Like he’d seen lightning strike too close. “What even—what was that?”

“I didn’t mean to—” you started, but your voice wavered.

“That wasn’t just noise. That was... influence, right? You turned them on each other?”

“No.” You swallowed. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened. They were going to shoot Alexei, I—”

“But it wasn’t controlled,” Walker said sharply. Not cruel, just assessing. Calculating risk. “What if they’d turned on us?”

That stung. More than it should have.

“I wouldn’t,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“She said it was involuntary,” Bucky cut in, stepping forward. His voice didn’t rise, but it carried weight. “She stopped them. That’s what matters.”

“She also almost made a guy kill himself,” Walker muttered.

“She saved Alexei,” Bucky said firmly, turning toward the others. “We’ve all lost control before. Don’t pretend we haven’t.”

You stood silent, heart pounding, the aftermath of your own power still vibrating under your skin. The others started moving again—resetting, clearing the area, checking gear. But they gave you space now.

Too much space.

You barely heard the rest of the debrief. Your voice was gone, locked behind clenched teeth. Guilt wrapped around your chest like a vice.

You walked ahead in silence.

No one stopped you.

────────────────────────

You hadn’t even taken off your boots. You sat on the floor, back against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around your knees like they might keep you from slipping any further into yourself.

The door creaked open softly.

You didn’t look up.

But you knew the sound of his steps.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Bucky said gently.

You didn’t respond.

He came closer but didn’t sit. Just leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed loosely. Watching. Waiting.

“I lost control,” you said after a long moment. “They’re right to be wary.”

“They’re wrong,” he said simply.

“You didn’t see their faces.”

“I saw yours.”

You glanced up, surprised.

“You looked like you were trying to tear yourself in half,” he said. “Because you cared more about hurting them than saving yourself.”

You looked away again.

“They don’t understand what it feels like,” you said quietly. “To have something inside you that people fear. That you can’t always lock down. That might one day hurt someone—even if you don’t want it to.”

His expression shifted. Pain, recognition, something deeper.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

The softness in his face, the tension in his shoulders—he knew. He knew.

And still, he was here.

Not afraid. Not flinching. Just... here.

You exhaled shakily.

“I think I made a mistake joining this team.”

“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been watching you,” he admitted. “And not because I’m waiting for you to snap. I watch because I see you trying. Every damn day. Even when they don’t notice.”

Your throat tightened.

“You don’t scare me,” he added. “None of this does. You do more to hold yourself back than most of us ever have to.”

Silence.

Then, softly: “You belong here. Even if it takes them time to see it.”

────────────────────────

The Next Night

Bucky wasn’t looking for you.

That’s what he told himself.

He told himself he was going for a walk. That his muscles ached. That the silence in his room was too sharp around the edges tonight.

But when he passed the door to the training pool and saw it slightly ajar, lights off, humid air curling into the hallway like a whisper—he knew.

Of course it was you.

He stepped inside quietly, the heavy door hissing shut behind him. The sound echoed across the still water.

“Hey,” he called out softly, scanning the dark. “You left the lights off.”

He moved toward the control panel instinctively, fingers brushing the switch.

“Don’t,” came your voice.

Not a shout. Not even stern. Just quiet. Low.

Carried like a ripple across the water, echoing from somewhere deep in the pool.

He froze.

“…You okay?” he asked, softer now.

A pause.

Then, “Yes.”

But there was something in the way you said it—like you were holding your breath inside the word.

The pool was a long, Olympic cut of black glass. He could barely make out your shape beneath the surface—a flicker of motion in the far end, a slow shift of shadow.

“You’re in the water.”

“Yes.”

The silence stretched again, heavy but not uncomfortable. He stepped forward, letting the heat of the pool air wrap around him.

“I thought maybe you’d gone,” he admitted. “After yesterday.”

There was a sound, something like a soft splash. A flick of fin, maybe. Movement, not retreat.

“No,” you said. “I just needed to be… this. For a while.”

He squinted toward you, his eyes adjusting to the dark. It took a moment, but then he saw it—just barely. The curve of your back breaking the surface. The subtle gleam of something slick and scaled beneath the low ambient light.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t stare. Just stayed still.

You exhaled slowly, the sound barely above the waterline. “I’m not hiding.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I just don't want to be seen like this. Not… yet.”

He nodded, even though you probably couldn’t see it. “Alright. Then I won’t look.”

And to his credit, he didn’t.

He turned away slightly, gave you space, let you move without watching. But he still stayed. Because you hadn’t told him to go.

Because, maybe, you wanted someone to stay.

“I’m not human the way you are,” you said after a while. “Not just physically. Sometimes I feel like I’m wearing skin that doesn’t belong to me.”

He breathed in slow. “I know that feeling.”

“Do you?” you asked, not unkindly. Just tired.

Bucky shifted his weight. “I’ve worn a lot of masks. But yeah. There are days where I look in the mirror and don’t see someone who belongs anywhere.”

The water rippled quietly.

“Then you understand why I needed to be in the dark tonight.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“You ever wish you could just… stay like that?” he asked gently. “Who you are in here. Not the version you have to show everyone else?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Then, “Sometimes I think the version they see is the monster. And this—the water, the dark, the scales—that this is the real me.”

“And is she the monster?”

“No.”

Then you added, softer, “She’s worse.“

The words sank like stones.

You waited for him to back away. To excuse himself. To do what most people did when they saw behind the illusion.

But he didn’t.

“You’re not a monster,” he said, steady as stone. “Not in any form.”

You let out a breath—half bitter, half broken. “You should be afraid of me.”

“I’m not.”

“You should be.” A sharp breath. “Especially you. After what you’ve been through. After what it’s like to have your mind twisted, your will taken—I could do that to you. Without even trying.”

Silence.

You expected him to leave. You preferred him to leave.

Then a soft rustle.

You heard it before you saw it—fabric sliding off. The quiet thud of boots meeting concrete. A belt unhooking. Then another sound: the shift of weight, the hiss of disturbed water.

Your head turned sharply in the dark. “What are you doing?”

Bucky’s voice came low and calm. “Showing you I’m not afraid.”

His bare feet met the water first, then his legs. He stepped slowly into the pool, each movement careful, deliberate—like he was approaching a wounded animal. Like he knew you might vanish if he moved too fast.

You froze.

The lights stayed off.

The water rippled gently around him, catching faint echoes of motion from where you were submerged.

“You can’t even see me,” you said.

“I don’t need to.”

Your voice trembled. “You don’t know what I look like like this.”

“I know what I feel,” he said. “I know it’s you.”

He moved further in, the water reaching his ribs, his breath slow, steady.

You stared across the dark, at the shape of him—a silhouette against nothing. Vulnerable. Unarmed. Open.

You whispered, “Why?”

He paused, standing still in the middle of the water.

“Because you’ve spent your whole life trying not to scare people,” he said. “Trying to keep yourself small, quiet, contained. And no one’s ever just... let you be.”

You blinked.

Something deep inside you shifted.

“I’ve been used too,” he said softly. “Controlled. Hurt. Turned into something I didn’t recognize. And I’m still here. Still fighting to believe I’m not what they made me.”

The ripples between you both softened. Fewer waves. Less space.

You whispered, “You’re not.”

“Neither are you.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

Not in the way you did above water—but in the way that didn’t hurt.

“You shouldn’t trust me this much,” you said, a final warning. One last barrier.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But I do”

The water between you held its breath.

You didn’t move at first—didn’t trust the trembling in your limbs or the sharp edge of your pulse. But Bucky stood still, waist-deep, facing the other side of the pool, like he wasn’t waiting for danger—just for you.

So you moved.

Slowly. Silently. The water embraced your form the way it always had—your real shape, the one you kept hidden beneath flesh and clothes and fear. You glided like breath, like tide, like instinct. Your tail made no sound. Your scales caught no light. You were the shadow beneath the surface, and he didn’t flinch.

Not even when you came close.

Close enough to touch.

You hovered at his back, watching the curve of his spine rise and fall with every breath. Water clung to his skin, catching faint glints of motion—your motion—as you lifted a hand above the surface.

And touched him.

His shoulders tensed at first, just barely, but he didn’t pull away.

Your fingers were cool against his skin—webbed, slick, foreign. The pads of them brushed along the ridge of his shoulder blade, then down the line of his arm.

Still, he didn’t turn.

So you did it again.

This time, both hands—light and deliberate—placed just above his hips, fingertips resting at the base of his spine, gently urging.

He let out a slow breath.

And turned.

The water shifted as he faced you.

He still couldn’t see all of you—darkness and depth obscured your form—but he could feel you there. Close. Solid. Real.

His hands came to your waist, cautious, reverent. His thumbs brushed faint ridges along your sides—faint scales you hadn’t hidden, soft flesh beneath them. He could feel the texture of you, alien and familiar all at once.

You let him look.

Not completely. Not yet.

But enough.

You tilted your head up, and he bent just slightly toward you. His face a breath away, eyes searching yours in the dark.

“I see you,” he whispered.

And he did.

Not a siren. Not a monster. Not an aberration.

Just you.

The water lapped quietly around you, the two of you suspended in the dark.

Bucky was so close now. Close enough for the heat of his body to ghost across your skin despite the coolness of the water. Close enough that the contrast between you—his warmth, your chill—felt like static between touching wires.

He looked at you then, fully. His eyes locked on yours, no hesitation. Just slow awe.

You saw the flicker of realization behind his gaze.

Your eyes—icy and deep, nearly luminescent in the dark—weren’t human anymore. The pupils too sharp, the color too unnatural. You didn’t try to hide it.

And still, he whispered, breath brushing your mouth,

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Your lips parted, not to speak, but just to feel that warmth.

Then he leaned in—deliberate, drawn, inevitable—and kissed you.

The first touch was slow, hesitant only in reverence, like he was afraid of breaking something sacred. His lips were warm—so warm—pressing softly against yours, testing.

You didn’t hesitate.

You kissed him back, and the pull was instant. A current dragging you both under.

His hands rose, one settling against the back of your neck, the other at your waist, anchoring you to him. You opened your mouth against his—slowly—and his tongue slipped inside with a soft groan that vibrated low in his throat. You tasted him: salt, metal, heat, something earthy and real.

He tasted you: cool and mineral, like sea-salt and secrets, ancient and raw.

His tongue tangled with yours in deliberate strokes, slow and deep. It wasn’t frantic. It was exploration, mouth against mouth, breath mingling, like he was learning you piece by piece.

Then he felt them.

The faint edge of your fangs—barely exposed as your body stirred with instinct and desire.

He didn’t pull away.

He kissed you harder.

And you let him.

Your webbed fingers curled into his hair, claws grazing his scalp just enough to make him shiver. His hand slipped lower, across the slick curve of your back, dragging you flush against him in the water. Your tail brushed his legs—he felt the ripple of it, powerful and sinuous—and instead of flinching, he leaned into it.

He deepened the kiss with a quiet groan, tilting your head just enough to taste more of you, to chase the sharp edge of your teeth and the soft gasp you gave him when he sucked on your bottom lip.

He wanted more. You wanted.

But the kiss said it all: this wasn’t hunger.

It was surrender.

And when he pulled back—only slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting, breath fogging between mouths—his voice dropped again, rough and reverent.

“You’re not a monster.”

You trembled in his arms, not from cold.

And for the first time, you let someone hold you without fear of what they’d find in the dark.

The kisses evolved—mouths moving in rhythm, breathless and hungry, like they’d been holding back for far too long. The water around you rippled with every shift of your bodies, your bare skin slick against his, every nerve alive.

Bucky’s hands slid lower, smoothing over the firm plane of your back where slick, textured scales had shimmered moments ago. But now—he felt it.

They were fading.

His lips broke from yours just enough to murmur, breath hitched, “You’re changing…”

Your forehead pressed to his as your hands threaded through his wet hair. “I can’t stop it,” you whispered. “When I feel—”

He kissed you again, cutting the words off with a gentleness that said you don’t have to explain.

The transformation was slow, intimate.

You felt it first in your hands—your fingers unwebbing, reshaping. Human again. Your claws softened, becoming skin. You ran them down his chest, gasping softly at the warmth, the roughness of him against the new smoothness of you.

Bucky’s hands wrapped around your waist as you shifted again, the powerful muscles of your tail twitching, tensing—then separating.

Legs.

Human.

Bare.

You wrapped them around his hips instinctively, pulling him closer, water lapping between your bodies, heat blooming between where his skin met yours.

His breath caught, hard, sharp.

You were soft and solid and real in his arms, human now but still you—something wild and full of want beneath the surface. He kissed down your jaw, tasting salt and skin and a thrill he hadn’t felt in years.

His voice, low and rough, ghosted along your throat: “You don’t have to be afraid.”

You shivered in his hold, lips brushing his ear as you whispered back, “I’m not.”

And for once, you weren’t.

Not of what he’d think. Not of what you were. Not even of what you wanted.

Just the sound of your shared breath, the gentle churn of the water, the beat of two hearts finally in rhythm.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist as he held you against him, his hands roaming—slow, reverent, learning every curve and shape as if memorizing what it meant to have you.

Not to claim.

But to be allowed.

The warmth of him bled into you, his mouth trailing over the column of your throat, lips parting around your skin as he kissed lower—slowly, like he wanted to taste every shiver.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his mouth returned to yours—hungrier this time. Tongues sliding together with unspoken urgency. He groaned into you, low and rough, when you rolled your hips into him beneath the water.

The sound you made—half gasp, half moan—hit him like a shot to the spine.

His hands cupped the back of your thighs, holding you up, keeping you close, guiding your body so you fit around him perfectly. The heat between you sharpened, pressed tight through soaked fabric and wet skin, every movement stoking something deeper.

There was nothing frantic.

Only build.

Only the slow, sacred pull of yes.

The kiss deepened until there was no air between you. His chest pressed to yours, heat meeting the coolness of your skin, fingers curling along your ribs, tracing the path where scales had once been.

You tilted your head back as he kissed his way down—jaw, neck, collarbone—tongue flicking against the hollow of your throat. Each touch lit up something low in your belly, and when you whispered his name, he froze just long enough to look at you.

Eyes dark, lips parted, hands still reverent.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice hoarse, wet strands of hair clinging to his brow.

You nodded, breathless. “Yes.”

Bucky’s mouth returned to yours with hunger barely tempered now, his kiss pulling sounds from your throat you didn’t know you could make—not songs, not power. Just want.

He guided you back through the water, hands steady at your waist, until your spine met the edge of the pool wall. The tile was cool against your back; he was warm and solid against your front.

His fingers brushed along the curve of your ribs, then up—slowly—tracing the faint shimmer where scales had retreated. He explored each new inch of you with careful reverence, like he was learning you with his hands, like every discovery mattered.

Your breath hitched as he slid one palm beneath the water, low across your hip, then between your thighs—fingers ghosting over the softest part of you with a touch so achingly gentle you shivered.

He swallowed the moan that left your mouth as his other hand found your jaw, tilting your face up so he could kiss you again—deeper now, tongue claiming, teeth grazing your lip.

You gasped, fingers curling around the back of his neck as your legs tightened around his hips, urging him closer.

He groaned, low and wrecked, as he pressed his body into yours fully—his arousal hard against you, his mouth dragging kisses down your throat as you arched into him.

“God, you feel like…” he murmured, unfinished, overwhelmed, pressing his forehead against yours.

Your hand found his chest, feeling the steady, pounding rhythm beneath the scars. “I feel like what?”

He looked at you like you were unreal. “Like something I’ve never deserved. But I’m not letting go.”

He reached down again, guiding himself into you with aching care.

When he pressed into you—slow, stretching, deep—your mouth parted in a soundless gasp, nails sinking into his back as your body opened for him.

The sensation was molten. Your body slick and ready, still half-wrapped in water, and every movement felt amplified—rippled and weightless, like being made and unmade in slow motion.

He held still inside you for a beat—his breath stalling, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he whispered, thumb brushing your cheek.

You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “Don’t stop.”

So he moved.

Rhythmic. Deep. Rolling his hips into you with intense precision, like he wanted every thrust to be a memory etched into your bones.

You clung to him as you rocked together, lips never far, gasps exchanged like prayer. The water splashed gently around you with every movement, hiding and revealing, sheltering and exposing.

And when you came apart in his arms—body shaking, breath hitching, fingers tangled in his hair—he followed seconds after, groaning into your skin as he buried himself in you one last time.

Afterward, he didn’t let go.

He just held you, still wrapped in warmth and water, as if grounding himself in the shape of you—your real form, your chosen form.

And you stayed there, arms around him, mind quiet for the first time in days.

────────────────────────

You lay together outside the pool, still dripping, the tiled floor beneath you warmed by residual heat from the water and each other.

Bucky’s body was solid and relaxed beneath yours, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped across his ribs. His breathing was slow now, steady, one hand lazily tracing your back—his fingers brushing the faint outlines of where your scales had shimmered.

He didn’t speak for a while. Just let his fingers explore you softly, as if mapping something sacred.

Then, voice low, “So… the other you. The form in the water. Is that the real you?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Your breath pushed gently against his skin, your eyes half-lidded with calm.

Then softly, “Both are the real me.”

He didn’t move, but you felt the weight of his silence.

You lifted your head slightly, just enough to brush your lips against his—light, unhurried, a kiss not driven by need but by quiet affection.

A moment passed before you added, “I’m half-human. Half-siren.”

His eyes opened, and he tilted his head to meet your gaze, brows furrowed—curious, but not skeptical.

You sighed, a faint smile ghosting your lips. “Tale as old as time. Sailor meets siren. Siren gets curious. Doesn’t immediately murder him.”

That made him huff a quiet breath against your temple.

“Sometimes… they mate. Rarely. Just to understand. Or because something stirs in them they don’t expect. The sailors rarely survive the interaction. Then they return to the sea.”

His fingers paused at your spine.

You shifted your weight slightly, eyes locked on his, and said quieter still:

“This time, the siren left with a baby.”

His breath caught, just barely.

You looked down.

“And that baby got left behind on land. Half-breed. Too human for the ocean, too strange for the shore.”

He said nothing.

But his hand moved again—this time higher, threading through your hair, cupping the back of your head gently as if trying to hold that pain, that truth, without crowding it.

You exhaled slowly, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

“A monster on land. An abomination in the sea.”

The words hung between you like steam, curling and vanishing before they hit the air.

Bucky didn’t try to correct you. Didn’t rush to wrap those words in comfort. He just moved—his hand smoothing up your back, across your hair, anchoring you to his chest. Holding you like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

His hand never left you.

Now, it moved with a new purpose—his touch slower, more intentional, tracing the skin between your shoulder blades.

You stiffened slightly.

He’d found them.

The scars.

Faint, old, but still jagged—slashing diagonally across your back in places that seemed more symbolic than accidental. He ran a thumb along the longest one, slow and careful.

“They match,” he murmured.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“Your claws,” he said. “From before. In the pool. The shape of them.” He traced another line. “These look like what they’d leave.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

Then you whispered, “They did.”

“You mean—?”

“The sirens,” you said softly.

He froze. “Jesus.”

You pushed your face gently against his shoulder, hiding from the look you couldn’t bear to see on his face—pity, horror, heartbreak, you didn’t know which would be worse.

“I didn’t belong here,” you murmured. “On land. Never really fit. So I thought—maybe the ocean would feel like home. Maybe they would understand.”

His hand stilled on your back.

You swallowed. “They didn’t.”

You pulled in a shaking breath, voice tight but steady. “They said I was soft. Weak. That I smelled too human. Felt too much. That I’d taint their species if I stayed.”

A beat.

“They tried to tear the human out of me.”

Bucky closed his eyes. His jaw tensed beneath your hand where it rested on his chest.

You whispered, almost bitterly now, “All the myths are true. They are monsters. They don’t love. They don’t feel. They don’t keep anything they can’t control.”

Silence.

Bucky’s fingers paused again, still tracing the old scars like they were something sacred. “You survived them,” he said quietly. “That says more about you than them.”

Your breath hitched, then came slow and shallow.

“I didn’t just survive them,” you murmured. “I tried to be like them.”

He stilled.

“I thought if I let go of everything human in me, they’d let me stay. If I stopped feeling… stopped flinching when they hunted. When they—”

You stopped, your throat tightening.

Bucky’s eyes were open now, watching you with more than concern. With something like dread.

“I tried,” you said, barely above a whisper. “To become what they were. To be unfeeling. A real monster.”

Your fingers curled slightly against his chest. “I even did it. Their way. Took ships off course with my voice. Lured them close. And I fed.”

His hand faltered.

“I ate humans,” you said, the words fractured, sharp. “So they’d accept me.”

Silence.

The worst kind.

Bucky didn’t move. He didn’t breathe, but you felt his body tense underneath you—hurt, not at you, but for you.

You turned your face further into his shoulder, shame crawling up your spine like ice.

“But it never worked,” you whispered. “I was still too soft. I felt everything. Even when I tried to bury it.”

His arms wrapped tighter around you—gently, but with purpose.

“I couldn’t keep it down,” you continued. “The guilt. The screaming. The way they laughed at me for choking on blood.”

Your voice cracked. “Meat makes me sick now. Just the smell of it.”

He breathed then, long and broken.

You could feel his heartbeat under your cheek. Steady. Solid. And somehow still here.

The silence between you became thick. Not with judgment, but with something worse—your own shame.

You whispered, barely audible, “I became something I hate. I wanted so badly to stop being an outcast, I turned myself into a real monster. And they still didn’t want me.”

You closed your eyes. “They didn’t need to kill me. I did that myself.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, his hand sliding up from your back to cup the back of your head again. He didn’t say it’s okay. He didn’t say you’re forgiven. He didn’t try to rewrite your past.

He just held you.

Because there are wounds too deep for words.

Because you had already condemned yourself, and he knew the last thing you needed was someone else trying to absolve what you hadn’t even survived emotionally.

Still, his voice reached you, low and rough and real,

“I hope someday you'll understand that you were never the monster in that story.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t believe it. But you didn’t pull away, either.

And for now—that meant something.

our girlie:

Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@Ruexj283 @muchwita @fayeatheart @Leathynn @thealloveru2 @person-005 @princeescalus @lilac13 @solana-jpeg @jeongiegram @winchestert101 @s-sh-ne @n3ptoonz @avgdestitute @xamapolax @Finnickodairslut @honeyhera29 @macbaetwo @rafespeach @bythecloset @ashpeace888 @buckmybarnes @c-grace56 @ozwriterchick @slutforsr @novaslov @xamapolax @theoraekenslover @user911224 @Tafuller @luminousvenomvagrant @sgtjbbhasmyheart @yvespecially @snake-in-a-flower-crown @mencantaleer @shellsbae00 @theewiselionessss @Madlyinlovewithmattmurdockk @avivarougestan @xoxoloverb @superlegend216 @lori19 @sired4urmama @writing-for-marvel @thriving-n-jiving @ogoc-19 @fckmebarnes @excusememrbarnes @its-in-the-woods @barnesonly

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

[teambyler]

El and Mike are in front of an open (closet!?) door (And other Byler thoughts from the teaser)

Fisrt off, they are posing in front of what looks like an uninstalled door, which maybe closes/covers whatever they're sitting on. That's some obvious coming out of the closet symbolism, folks! In fact, the door has been BUST OFF ITS HINGES.

Now, I'm not a body language expert, but I definitely get a clear GUT REACTION when I look at this shot.

To me, El's hand on Mike's neck feels like "I understand" body language. Her focus isn't on closeness/intimacy/kissing, but keeping some arms-length distance because she's focused on maintaining eye contact, listening , showing him she's listening, providing support, and still showing she loves him deeply.

Meanwhile, Mike's hands are cupped together and below him, as if he's asking for forgiveness, and saying something he finds difficult to say.

So perhaps this is Mike after finding out about the Painting Lie (and how Will's lie evoked in him feelings for El that he now knows were misdirected). And Mike is explaining that he loves El but isn't IN love with El.

We cannot know for sure! (All the shots from the teaser were so quick and without context!) The one thing that's certain is that they are ACTUALLY having a heart-to-heart scene, which after s4 for Milev*ns feels like rain in the desert. (When there were 5 heart-to-heart scenes for Byler in s4 they certainly didn't see Byler endgame lol.)

Theoretically it could be a step forward for their romance, but all the set-up that we Bylers know about mean that it wouldn't actually make much sense. If the show stays true to these characters, the best Milev*ns can hope for is them taking a break.

And HELLO, out-of-the-closet symbolism!

Almost certainly a nightmare. And most definitely not Will's actual death. (Why would they spoil his death in a teaser? Like REALLY?)

But YES the Duffers making us think Will will die all season CONFIRMED.

Will seems to be deliberately closing his eyes. He doesn't seem to be possessed by someone else. This suggests he's consciously going into a mindspace, in order to use powers, or delving into his buried memories. Both possibilities suggest a possible supernatural arc for Will.

And he cried tears right before this shot. There are tear streaks on his face. =( Who knows what is prompting him to do this??

-teambyler

[formulafanfics13]

can I please have a unhinged dom!Max ???? Like 6months into their relationship max keeps touching her like something precious that he doesn't wanna break. But that's exactly what she wants . She wants him to fuck her like he drives. Wants MADMAX unleashed. So she tries all tricks and stuff until he breaks n loses his mind. Turns out he wants that more than anything. But the real question is can she take it????

MadMax - MV1🔥

Masterlist

summary: six months of soft touches. of worship. of max holding you like you'll crack. but you don't want soft anymore. you want madmax. you want the animal. the grip-the-wheel, rip-the-track, break-the-records madness. so you push him. tease him. test him. and when he finally breaks—when the beast wakes up—the real question is: can you survive it?

warnings: dom!max verstappen, sub!reader, overstimulation, rough sex, degradation & praise, slight dumbification, dirty talk, consensual choking, spanking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, use of restraints (belt), crying during sex (pleasure), edging, mention of safe words, brutal pace, unhinged max, v possessive and primal energy

Six months of slow. Six months of careful touches, reverent kisses, gentle sex. Max always holding you like you're made of glass, whispering sweet nothings in Dutch, like he's afraid too much pleasure will ruin you.

But you don't want soft anymore. You want to see him like the rest of the world does. You want the fire. The rage. The throttle-twisting, headboard-smashing, Mad Max that lives in every single highlight reel.

Because you've seen it on track. The look in his eyes when he's first into turn one. When he's chasing down a lead with blood in his mouth.

And you wonder, what would that look feel like if it was turned on you?

So you test him. You wear the shortest skirts, the tightest tops. You send videos from the hotel bathroom mid-session. Whisper filth in his ear while he's watching race footage.

You kiss his jaw and say, "You'll never fuck me as hard as you drive."

The first time, he just raised an eyebrow. Smirked.

The second time, he growled your name under his breath and pressed you against a wall.

The third time, tonight, he finally snaps. "You want Mad Max?" His voice is low. Dangerous. The hotel room is dim, cold, quiet. He's already got you pinned to the bed with one arm.

You're naked. Writhing. Wet.

"Say it," he hisses. "Say what you want."

You moan. "I want you."

"No," he growls. "You want the beast. You want to see if you can handle what everyone else fears."

His hand wraps around your throat. Not tight. Not yet. "You think it's fun to poke at me? You think I'm holding back because I don't have it in me?"

You nod.

He slaps your ass, hard.

You whimper.

He smiles. And then you're flipped. Knees under your chest. Belt looped around your wrists. Hair yanked back. "Safe word?"

You gasp. "Red."

"And you're not gonna use it, are you?"

"No."

"Good," he says. "Because I'm not stopping."

He fucks you like he drives. Fast. Ruthless. Intentional. He chokes you. Spanks you. Pulls your hair so hard your eyes roll back. "Look at you," he spits. "Begging for it. Thought you wanted romance? No? You want a fucking machine instead?"

You sob. "Yes, Max-"

"Too late for soft," he snarls. "You wanted Mad Max. You got him."

His pace is brutal. His hands everywhere. He flips you. Fucks you on your back with your legs thrown over his shoulders. He slaps your clit. Sucks your nipples until they're raw.

You're crying. You're coming. You're screaming his name over and over and over.

He leans down, sweat dripping onto your face, and says, "You're mine. You think anyone else could take this?"

You whimper. "No. Just you."

"That's right."

Another orgasm. Your sixth. Maybe seventh. You've lost count. He doesn't care.

By the end, you're boneless. Lips swollen. Body wrecked. He's still hard. Still twitching. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks now, whispering, "You okay? You're perfect. You're mine."

You nod, dazed. "I wanted that."

He kisses your jaw. "I know. So did I."

You blink. "You did?"

He smirks. "Been waiting for permission." He lays beside you, stroking your hair. "You okay?"

"I... I don't think I can move."

"That's fine," he murmurs. "I'll carry you to the shower."

"Max."

"Hmm?"

"I still want Mad Max."

He kisses your throat. "He's not going anywhere, baby."

[whre4wanda]

Picture Perfect

Mature content ahead*

Dom!Wandanat x Dom!Carol x Sub!reader, G!P Natasha x Carol Wanda x reader, foursome, hair pulling, choking, use of vibrators, spitting, breeding, masturbating, recording, oral (all receiving), fingering, praising, degrading. Yeah everyone is a pornstar so...

Summary- Drinking too much might have it's unexpected events but what happens when you end up working for someone big in the industry?

Your pov:

"Another one." You asked the bartender who gave you a questioning look but nevertheless walked over to go prepare your drink. You then saw a familiar blonde arriving before she placed her bag down on the counter and she then sat up on the barstool.

"Hey Lena." You greeted her and she gave you a smile.

"Started drinking without me I see."

"You were taking your time." She hums before calling over the bartender and ordering her own drink.

"So how was your day?" You ask the blonde, knowing that she spent the day with a certain raven haired girl.

You saw her face warm up and you smiled knowingly.

"Fucking knew it." You shake your head while you sipped on the new drink you had ordered.

"I didn't say anything happened between us."

"Your face says it all." You place the glass down with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Anyways how was your day?" You huff while placing your hands on the counter in front of you.

"Horrible. All the jobs I kept applying for are backfiring on me. At this point buying a rope to kill myself might be out of my budget." You say and the blonde snickers.

"Sorry babe." She pats your back apologetically, knowing what you were going through wasn't pleasant at all.

"You know actually..." You look up at her with a questioning look.

"Yes?"

"Maybe I can help you out. Remember when I mentioned that I have a sister?" You nod your head slowly and she continues talking.

"How about I ask her to check if something is available. I mean, a while ago she was saying that her boss might need an assistant or something."

You think for a while before biting your lip. You had never met Yelena's sister before so you didn't know what kind of person she was meaning that you had no clue what the job would entail. I mean you did know about her sister because Yelena mentioned her a couple of times but you didn't really know her. But right now, you could really use the money so why would you deny it.

"Okay sure." She smiles before taking a sip of her own drink. Unbeknownst to you, a certain blonde haired woman, had been watching you from the VIP section with an intrigued look. That night, you kept drinking, wanting to forget about all your problems. You're certain that later that night, you bumped into a very gorgeous blonde woman, but you knew yourself. There was no way in hell you actually ended up approaching let alone talking to her.

__

That following day, you woke up in your apartment with a loud groan. Your head was banging as you slowly got out of bed to try stop the dizzy sensation you felt but you lost all control and rushed to the bathroom where you continuously threw up all the contents in your stomach.

You groaned again before closing the lid of the toilet and flushing. You stared at yourself in the mirror and you weren't shocked to see the disoriented state you were currently in. Your hair was a mess, the eyeliner you had worn the night before had practically melted and just made your eye bags more promimet and one of your eyelashes was just quarter to falling off.

You huffed and took off the false lashes before placing them on the bathroom counter. Your feet padded across the floor where you walked into your room to look for your phone. Once you found it, you opened up your chats to see a few texts.

Lena:

Are you as bad as I am?

You:

Nope. I'm much better, I'm a soldier.

Lena:

Oh fuck you. So, did you go home with that woman?

You:

What woman?

Lena:

The blonde one? The hot one? The one who kept staring at you the entire night and who you ended up embarrassing yourself in front of?

You:

... No

You continued your little chat with Yelena until you decided it was time to shower and then eat something. Your weekend went by surprising fast before it was eventually Monday.

Yelena had given you the address for the mysterious woman you would supposedly work for. You would also be meeting Yelena's sister for the first time so that was exciting. You were currently walking inside the tall building before you walked over to the receptionist.

"Hello, I'm here looking for uh... Ms Danvers?"

The woman at the reception looked up at you before dialing a number. She hummed and muttered something before she turned to look at you.

"What's your name Hon?"

"Y/n y/l/n." She told the person on the other line your name before she eventually put the phone down.

"Alright, you can just proceed to the elevator and she'll be waiting for you on the third floor." The woman said with a smile and you nodded your head, proceeding with the directions she gave you. As you got into the elevator, you could feel your nerves getting the best of you. Why were you so nervous?

The elevator dinged and you walked out before looking for the supposed woman.

"Y/n?" You turned and looked at the woman who had called your name. She looked familiar. Very familiar.

"Ms Danvers?"

"Please, call me Carol." You squinted your eyes, trying to figure where you knew this blonde woman from.

She tilted her head at you with a small grin.

"You don't remember me do you?" You slowly shook your head and she chuckled.

"I was the woman at the club on Friday. The one you were dancing with." You shyly looked away, once you remembered who she actually was.

"I'm actually pleased it's you going to be my assistant. You are a very pretty girl indeed." You blushed at her compliment before Carol called someone over.

"Darcy, please attend to y/n for a second, I'll be back, I need to take this call." Darcy nodded her head with a small smile before beckoning you to follow her.

"Nice to meet you y/n."

"Likewise."

"So you excited to work here?"

"I guess. The money looks promising so it really doesn't matter what I think."

"Yeah, well it gets a bit awkward at times, especially as a newbie but you'll settle in."

"Yeah. Wait what? What do you mean?"

Darcy turned to you with an eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean by "What I mean"?

"You said it gets awkward at times. Why?" Darcy tilts her head while chuckling a little.

"You mean to tell me that you don't know that you're-"

"Okay, I'm back. Uh y/n can you follow me please." Carol instructs you and you give Darcy one more glance before walking with Carol.

"Okay, so today we have something to shoot so I think for today you'll just follow me around and get to know everything and everyone. Just the nitty gritty stuff." You nod your head as you continue to follow the blonde woman.

"And, oh Natasha." Carol calls someone over and you turn around to face a tall redhead. This is Natasha? Yelena's sister? Woah.

"Is this our new girl?" You hear someone else ask behind you and you're met with another tall woman however this woman is brunette.

"Oh no. This is my new assistant y/n." You wave to the two woman who are just staring at you with unreadable facial expressions.

"It's a shame she isn't our new girl." Wanda says with a tilt of her head.

"Yeah, she's very pretty." Natasha compliments you and you shy away from her intense gaze.

The two woman talk to Carol about something before they eventually leave, not without giving you one final glance.

"Alright, come on." You continue to walk with Carol and she leads you through the busy hallway.

"May I ask. What did those two women mean by the new girl?

Carol pauses before she looks at you.

"For our act."

"Act?" You ask in confusion which only makes the blonde woman arch her brow at you.

"Y/n do you know what company you're working for?" You slowly shake your head in embarrassment. Of course you didn't bother to ask Yelena what this job was even for, you just jumped at the opportunity especially once you saw the paycheck. Carol chuckles before stopping to open her office door.

"Do you even know who those two women are sweetheart?" She asks and you raise your eyebrows. Why should you know them, you just met both of them today. What made them so special? Besides the fact that Natasha was Yelenas sister, you were clueless as to who they were. Carol shook hear head in amusement before placing her files down.

"Sweetheart, this is a porn company." Your eyes widened and your mouth fell wide open.

"Y-you mean like pornhub?" Carol let's out another chuckle and you frown.

"No no. Hell no. We like to think of ourselves different compared to the other companies, more sensual, romantic and very realistic. Besides, our actors are only females so." You blink, still trying to comprehend the information that was being thrown in your face.

"Huh." Was all you manged to mutter out. Carol let a soft sigh escape her lips.

"Y/n, is this a problem for you?" The blonde woman asked you, her voice laced with sincerity and concern but you simply shook your head.

"No I guess I just need to get used to it."

"Good, because we want all our employees to feel comfortable with one another. Besides you'll be seeing most of them naked either way so." Carol says and you swallow.

In your mind you were still trying to comprehend the fact that you were working as an assistant for a woman who directed porn. And the fact that Yelena's sister was a pornstar? How did she forget to mention that!? Did she know? Of course she knew!!

You spent an hour just following Carol around, trying to avoid a pair of green eyes that belonged to the two rather beautiful women. Carol had directed you to get her a cup of coffee which you did before handing it to her.

"Alright y/n, could you tell Darcy to call in Natasha and Wanda." You nod your head and venture out to look for Darcy. You find her sitting with her legs crossed while typing on her phone.

"Hey, uh Carol is asking if you could call Natasha and Wanda for the shoot.. They're about to start." Darcy smiles before getting up.

"Sure, why don't you come with me. It'll help you get used to this place."

You simply nod your head before walking with the brunette girl.

"So, I'm assuming you finally put two and two together huh?" You sigh and nod your head.

"Yup." She hums while you two make your way to the hallway of the building. Darcy knocks on the door before you see Natasha open the door. She has on a white robe while her hair falls perfectly down her shoulders.

Behind her, you can see someone moving and once you're met with another pair of green eyes, you look away.

"Come to join us huh sweetheart?" Natasha teases and your face warms up.

"Gross, anyway, Carol wants you two to get out there like right now, they're about to start. " Darcy says and the two women only nod at her before they're eyes are on you again.

Darcy smacks her teeth before she walks way from the awkward situation. You opt to turn around until you hear Wanda's voice behind you.

"You know, you could join us if you want to. There's always room for extra." Wanda says with a wink, her statement catching you off guard.

"Uh yeah uhm." You turn again and this time you walk quickly, wanting to get away from the two woman who were practically eye fucking you.

__

"Okay, I want Wanda on the bed with Natasha behind her. Wanda I want your back flush against Natasha's front and Natasha I want you to wrap your hands around Wanda. Great." Carol ends with a clap of her hands. A few of the photographers had already set up so all they needed was both the woman in the position Carol asked them for.

You sat next to Carol as the two women placed themselves on the bed. Wanda had a smirk on her face as she looked at you and she quickly whispered something into Natasha's ear. The redhead looked at you with a big smirk on her face before winking at you.

"Okay, let's begin." The photographer stands with the camera ready in her hands while she snaps a couple of pictures.

"Okay, Natasha I want you to place your hand over Wanda's thigh and then don't be afraid to go a bit higher." Natasha does as instructed and she places her hand on the brunettes thigh. The photographer snaps a couple of more pictures until you see Natasha's hand go further up Wanda's thighs, almost pressing into her center. The photographer instructs them to lift their heads up a bit while Carol instructs them to do more sensual poses. The two women look effortlessly gorgeous and again Natasha's eyes move over to your own.

She smirks while she mindlessly runs her fingers across Wanda's covered cunt. You watch as the brunettes breath hitches and can feel your face heating up at the encounter in front of you. You look away and the photographer snaps a few more pictures of them before she sets her camera aside.

"Okay, I'll have these edited and then I'll send them over to your email." Carol nods before thanking the photographer.

Everyone begins to pack up and out of the corner of your eye, you see Natasha pressing a soft kiss to Wanda's lips. They're a couple. Makes a lot of sense. You look away from the two, not wanting to intrude on their little intimate moment and luckily Carol calls you over to help her with a few things.

"Why so flustered sweet girl?" Carol asks you teasingly and you just shook your head. She looked you up and down before putting her glasses up her head.

"Well we're done for the day, so you can head home. I'll see you tomorrow darling." You grab your bag before saying goodbye to Carol and the rest of the crew except for the two women who were currently nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile Natasha had been pressing Wanda against the dressing room mirror while she repeatedly kept thrusting inside of her.

"Fuck." The brunette moaned in pleasure while the redhead moved her hand down to her clit.

"You're still so fucking tight." The redhead whispered into Wanda's ear, her hot breathe fanning onto her cheek sending Wanda into a spiral of pleasure.

"Gotta stretch this pussy out for tomorrow huh baby?" Wanda nodded pathetically, she could feel herself nearing the edge alsongisde of Natasha who's thrusts were getting sloppier by the minute.

"I'm cumming-" Sinful profanities escaped both of their lips as they rode out their highs.

The two women panted before Natasha pulled out of the brunette girl, causing a whimper to escape her lips. Natasha pressed a soft kiss onto her lips but stopped once she heard a knock on the door.

"Okay, I get that you two are busy in there but could you two please hurry the fuck up." Carol yelled from the outside and the two women just sighed.

"Okay good." Carol said once she saw the two women approaching.

"I wanted to speak about the shoot. We have to move it to next week."

"Why?"

"Our camera crew won't be available to shoot." Natasha hums while Wanda folds her arms.

"Did you find someone?" Carol shakes her head, knowing what the redhead was referring to.

"Not yet." The redhead hums again and she sits back in her chair as the three continue with their conversation.

_

_

"How was your first day?" Yelena asked you as you sat down on your couch.

"How the hell did you get into my apartment?"

"I have my ways. Now answer my question."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I have to right now. In fact, why don't you tell me why you didn't tell me that your sister is a pornstar?

Yelena turns her focus to the bag of chips in her hands.

" I knew you'd find out eventually so why go through the awkwardness to tell you." She shrugs and you roll your eyes.

"Whatever."

_

_

A week has gone by and it was eventually time to shoot the scene. To say you were nervous was an understatement. You don't know why you were nervous but you knew that it was going to be awkward.

"Just try not to focus much on it you know." Is what Darcy said as she watched your fingers tap mindlessly on the clipboard.

"Okay, is everyone ready?" Carol asks and everyone nods their head. Wanda and Natasha position themselves on the bed before taking off their robes. Both of the women spot red lingerie on their bodies and you can't help but train your eyes on their toned body. Natasha winks at you once she notices your gaze fixated on her body.

"And action!" The scene begins to unfold with Wanda lying on the bed with her phone in hand. Natasha walks over to her, placing herself elegantly on the bed before she starts peppering kisses across Wanda's face. Wanda hums in contempt before she places her phone down.

She turns to kiss the redhead back and soon enough she has the brunette on top of her. Wanda begins to grind on her thigh which results in Natasha groaning into the kiss. You can feel your face heating up as you watch this entire scene unfold.

Natasha grabs her hips and begins to lead her movements. It was only then that you noticed the prominent bulge growing. Holy shit! That does not look like a strap-on. You look away from the pair, your body is on fire and everything seems to just blur around you. The only thing you're focused on are the soft moans the two women are letting out or the toned bodies of both women.

By the time you look up again, Natasha had already discarded Wanda's bra, her chest now bare for you to see. You bite the inside of your cheek and when you turn to look at the blonde woman, she's already staring at you with a predatory look.

Your body slumped in the chair and you were certain your cheeks were as red as a tomato. Natasha lays a breathless Wanda down onto the bed as she presses kisses onto the column of her neck. Wanda's eyes open up and they stare at you as she let's out a small moan which makes your mouth go dry. Natasha also looks at you as she moves down Wanda's body. You can see her lips twitch into a smirk before she latches her lips onto Wanda's pebbled nipple. All of this seemed to good to be true.

It seemed surreal. Never in your life did you think you would be sitting, watching an adult film being made right in front of your eyes. All while the two stars and the director gazed at you with hungry looks in their eyes. Hungry for what? You were uncertain. Sure you were.

Natasha licked and sucked down to Wanda's thighs before she parted her legs and began to eat the woman out. Wanda closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure and you swear that was one of the best sounds you'd ever heard in your entire life. You bite your lip and you can feel the heat emanating from your legs.

You can see the way Wanda grabs the sheets as her legs shut around Natasha's head but Natasha spreads them open with her strong hands. The brunettes eyes open again, and you can't spot a single speck of green in them, they're just completely blown. She gives you what you assume is a pleading look and her eyes roll back as she reaches her first orgasm. The scene in front of you sends a tingle down your core and you grip the clipboard in your hand harshly.

Natasha turns Wanda around on her stomach with her ass in the air before she slaps her ass causing her to gasp. The older woman takes off her bra and underwear before she strokes her cock. She aligns it with Wanda's center and the brunette moans into the pillow that was placed underneath her. Slowly, the redhead begins to thrust into her before she begins pounding into her while she lifts her head up. The redhead begins to whisper something into her ear which seems to turn Wanda on even more.

Their gazes both fall onto yours as Natasha keeps thrusting inside of her. You want to look away but you can't find it in you to look away.

"Good girl." You hear Natasha praise Wanda but oh you were wrong because that praise was directed at the both of you. Especially you.

"Does that feel good Wanda?"

"Yes, it feels so good Nat."

"Tell me how good I make you feel. Make me believe it."

Wanda begins to babble as she nears her second orgasm. Natasha keeps thrusting inside of her while her hand slaps her ass once again.

"I'm cumming, fuck I'm-" The brunette moans out while Natasha peppers sloppy kisses across her neck.

"Yes yes yes, I'm-"

"Cum for me." Natasha purrs and Wanda cums with a loud moan.

The brunette falls forward as the redhead chases her own high and a few thrusts later she reaches her own orgasm.

"And cut!" You let out a shaky breathe, before wiping your hands on the skirt you were wearing. You stand up and place the clipboard down before walking out of the room you were filming in.

You headed over to the bathroom before closing the door and letting out a shaky breathe.

_

_

"Mhm y/n, where'd you run off to pretty girl?" Carol asked once you entered her office.

"Uh the bathroom." Carol hums before looking you up and down.

"I see. Sit down for me y/n." You do as she says and sit on the empty chair.

"I'd like to talk to you about something y/n." You nod in confusion.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all." Carol crosses her arms and sits back in her chair.

"I'm going to get straight to the point y/n. I want you in front of the camera. Not behind it. I want you to work with Natasha and Wanda" You're shocked to say the least and Carol tilted her head.

"I'll let you think about it y/n but a pretty girl like you deserves to be in front of the camera."

You open your mouth to say something but words fail to come out.

"Uhm I'll see you tomorrow Ms Danvers." You pick up your bag and slip out of the office, missing the look that the redhead and brunette give you.

"What did she say?" Wanda asks as she sits down on the chair while Natasha stands behind her with her hands on Wanda's shoulders.

"Nothing but I told her to think about it."

_

_

You didn't want to be doing this but after what Carol told you, you couldn't help yourself. Your hands typed away on the laptop in front of you, clicking onto the website you'd been seeing for a week. It was your first time visiting this site. You avoided it because you thought it would be weird to watch the two but now you couldn't help yourself.

You searched up their names on the search bar and once you entered it, you found multiple videos with many views. You found a few videos with Wanda and Natasha acting separately with other women and more with the two of them together. You pressed onto one of the videos that had a good thumbnail and from there you were gone.

You bit your lip as you watched the erotic scene, similar to the one you saw today, on your laptop. You watched as Wanda rode Natasha, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. You couldn't help but let your fingers slip down into your panties before you started rubbing your clit, watching the scene in front of you.

__

You walked into Carol's office, spotting her with a few papers in hand.

"Oh hello y/n."

"Uh hi Carol, can we talk about yesterday?" She looks up at you before placing the stack down.

"Of course." She points for you to sit down and you do.

"I thought about what you said yesterday and..."

"And what?"

"Well I don't know if I'd feel comfortable shooting in front of everyone." You start off but get cut off by Carol.

"Then we don't have to. We can film in my private studio. Just you me, Natasha and Wanda."

You think for a little bit and Carol speaks again.

"Your salary will be increased of course and we can do it at your pace, whatever you want." You slowly nod your head and she smiles. She sits up before beckoning you to come stand in front of her.

You do as she says and walk over to Carol.

"Sit." She pats her lap and you begrudgingly do as she says with a blush coating your cheeks.

"W-why am I doing this?" Carol rubs her thumb across your face before she moves it down to your lips.

"Such a pretty thing you are hmm." She pushes her thumb past your lips and you just suck it.

"So obedient too."

She hums before you hear the door open. You try to move off of her but Carol stops you with a firm grip on your body.

"Started without us I see." You hear Natasha's voice behind you.

"Couldn't help myself, she's just so pretty."

"I bet she tastes amazing too." You hear Wanda quip and you blush.

"So I'm assuming it was a yes?" Natasha asks and Carol nods her head.

"Great. I can't wait to fuck her." She says with a smirk as she crosses her arms.

"She's got such a pretty face, I can't wait to ride it." Wanda adds and you look down as your cheeks flush. Carol lifts your chin up to look at her.

"You're going to be our good girl. Right baby?"

You meekly nod your head. You were already falling into a submissive subspace for these women.

"Such an obedient girl." Natasha says with a grin.

"So good." Wanda adds.

"Our good girl." Carol pushes her thumb back into your mouth and you suck.

"Oh Nat, I think you'll enjoy her mouth. So warm hmm." Natasha watches with lust filled eyes as you suck onto Carol's finger and at that moment she was very jealous of the blonde. Wanda was too. She wanted you to be sitting on her lap. But right now, you were in Carol's care and they had to deal with it.

"Only two more hours, and then we'll take her to my studio apartment and fuck her. Real good." A muffled moan escapes your lips and Carol only chuckles.

__

You were pushed against the wall as Carol attacked your lips. Her hands roamed your body and the other two women groaned behind you. Carol pulled from your lips, giving you time to breathe which was useless because Natasha was next to kiss you. She kissed you with such passion, pushing her tongue past your lips while her hands gripped your ass.

You moaned into the kiss, as you let the woman take control of you. Again the woman pulls away and Wanda attacks your lips next. Her kiss is different compared to the other two women. Hers was softer but you could still feel that she was in charge.

"Now don't keep her to yourself Wanda."

You felt yourself being pulled away from Wanda.

Natasha pushed you further into the luxurious apartment until your back fell against a bed.

"Let's get these clothes off huh?" Natasha says and you bite your lip.

"Do you want us to do this y/n?" She asks softly, all three of the woman looking at you, waiting for your consent.

"Yes. Please." Natasha smiles before she takes off your shirt. Carol pushes a few buttons on the camera before she starts recording you and Natasha. Wanda moves over to the bed where she positions herself behind you on the bed, that way, if you sat up, you'd be flush against her front.

Natasha takes off your bra and all the women in the room groan as they watch your nipples harden. Your skirt is zipped off by Wanda and she guides you to lift your hips before she takes it off of you and throws it onto the floor.

"Oh look how wet she is." Wanda coos once she presses her fingers across your panties.

She rubs her fingers on your clit, and your head falls back onto her shoulder. All the women begin to take off their clothes until they're left in their underwear. Wanda takes off her underwear before she presses her chest onto your back.

"god, I really want to taste her pussy." Carol says while she moves closer to the bed. Natasha moves away before she comes behind you and begins kissing Wanda.

You moan softly as you watch the two older woman make out behind you. Carol then takes off your panties before groaning again.

" She's so fucking wet." She throws the panties down and spits on two of her fingers before rubbing it against your clit. You moan again and the older women behind you watch in amazement as your clit throbs.

Carol brings her mouth down to your pussy where she licks up your slit. A loud moan escapes your lips and Wanda begins to fondle with your tits. She twists and tugs at your nipples while Natasha begins to kiss your neck. You practically melt into the sheets as you feel the women take control over your body.

"Fuck, she tastes so fucking good." Carol groans and Natasha bites down onto your neck.

Carol brings her finger up to he mouth before she licks them and presses them against your center. She begins to thrust her long digits inside of you and your moans are swallowed by Wanda. Carol continues to finger your pussy, her palm rubbing your clit continuously with her thrusts. Your walls tighten around her fingers while she sucks your clit.

"You gonna cum for us princess?" you nod your head pathetically and Natasha slaps your tit.

"Beg." She demands.

"Please let me cum."

"You're gonna have to do better than that baby." Wanda says and you huff.

"god, please I'm begging you, please let me cum. I wanna cum for you all." it's pathetic, and borderline embarrassing but Carol's fi gers begin to slow and the pleading just continues.

"Oh you're such a fucking slut." Everyone groans at your words, their mouths slightly agape as they watch the way your pussy sucks Carol's fingers. Carol flicked your clit with her tongue while her fingers curled up inside of you.

"Cum for us baby." Your back arches painfully so as your orgasm crashes over you.

Your eyes roll back as you ride out the strong orgasm. All the women around you look at you in amazement as your hips rut against Carol's fingers and mouth. Once you become overstimulated, Carol pulls her fingers out of you and Wanda grabs the blondes hands before she sucks on the digits that were just inside you. The brunette moans around her fingers while she looks at you.

Carol pulls them out of her mouth before she drags them down Wanda's body, where she rubs her clit for a little while. Wanda moans softly but whines once Carol removes her fingers and trails them up to her neck before squeezing it slightly.

"How about we let Natasha deal with y/n while you make me feel good hm?"

Wanda nods her head and is pulled in for a heated kiss by the blonde. You turn your gaze to the redhead who's looking at you with a hungry gaze with her dick in hand, stroking it slightly.

"Come on pretty girl, I wanna see how good that mouth is." You swallow before you turn around so you're facing Natasha. She bites her lip and you grab her cock, stroking it which causes her to twitch in your hand.

You lick your lips before lowering your head down to suck her tip. You lick around the tip, moaning at the faint taste of her. You then lowered your mouth further to take every inch of her. Fuck she was big. The redhead threaded her hands inside your hair as you slowly began bopping your head on her cock.

"Fuck, just like that. Her mouth feels so fucking good." Natasha throws her head back and you're consumed by all of her.

You can't think about anything else except for her. Natasha begins to thrust herself into your mouth while her hands pull the strands of hair. You continue to stroke while sucking her off and with a final groan she cums inside of your mouth. You gladly swallow it all before you part from her shaft with glazed eyes. You wipe your lips before sucking the finger. Natasha pulls you in for a heated kiss, teeth clashing with one another while her hands grope your ass.

"Such a pretty, dirty whore." The camera is long forgotten. None of them cared about it right now. All they cared about was how pretty you looked just for them.

You hear hums behind you and you turn around to see a naked blonde with the brunette in between her legs. Carol stares at you shamelessly, her eyes darkening further once she sees your disheveled state. She throws her head back once Wanda thrusts her fingers hard enough to reach her g-spot. Natasha pulls your attention back to her once her hand pulls your chin back to face her.

"I want to taste you." Your breath hitches and she pushes you down the bed so that Wanda and Carol still had a good view of you.

Natasha moves down your body where she littered a few more marks on your thighs. She then positions her mouth on your pussy and you let out a loud moan. Natasha moans once your essence hits her tastebuds. She becomes addicted to the way you taste and the way you clench around. Your hands grip the silk sheets underneath you as Natasha continues to eat and devour you like she was a woman starved. She pulls away before spitting on your pussy, where her fingers begin to rub your clit.

You feel one her hands on your body, and she gropes your breasts while she eats you out. You open your eyes to look down at her, and she's already staring up at you while she continuously thrusts in and out of your pussy. Your head falls back again and you open your eyes to see Carol gripping on Wanda's hair, chasing her own high. A sinful amount of profanities leave her lips as she orgasms and the blonde woman keeps her eyes trained on your own as she reaches her orgasm, moaning out loud.

The scene accompanied by Natasha's skilled tongue is enough to have your orgasm crashing down on you. You let out a pathetic scream as you cum in her mouth and she continued to lick it up until you've ridden your high.

"Be a good girl and go ride y/n's face while Natasha fucks her." Carol says as she moves a strand of hair away from Wanda's face. Thrills shoot down your spine as you see Wanda approach you.

The brunette smiles down at you before she positions her dripping cunt onto your mouth. You grab her thighs and pull her down so her pussy is pressed flat against your tongue and she moans. You suck on the bundle of nerves which causes her hands to grab at your hair. At the same time you can feel Natasha pushing the tip of her cock inside your pussy. She let's out a rather loud moan once your walls wrap around her.

You whine as you feel her stretch you out. She gives you a couple of minutes to get used to her size and you focus all your attention on Wanda. Wanda pushes your head further into her pussy as she continues to ride your face. Her taste is intoxicating and the way her thighs grip your head, you wouldn't mind dying in this position right then and there. You wrap your legs around Natasha's waist, signaling her to begin fucking you which she does immediately.

Carol watches this scene with a vibrator pressed against her own pussy. She bites her lip, loving the scene playing out in front of her.

"F-fuck, just like that honey, use your mouth on me like that!" Wanda throws her head back, far enough for Natasha to pull her by her hair and bring her in for a heated kiss.

Wanda's hips stutter and her grip on your hair tightens and her legs tight around your head too. You moan into her pussy, once Natasha's cock hits your G-spot so perfectly, it brings tears to your eyes.

" Shit! Such a good girl. I'm so close, f-fuck" She cums with a final scream and you lap up her juices, not letting a single drop go to waste.

She moves off of your face before kissing you, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips. Wanda moves over to Carol where the two women make out while Natasha continues to fuck your pussy. She brings your legs up to her shoulders, and the new position makes you let out a pornographic moan that catches all off them off guard.

"Who knew you were such a dirty slut. All you needed was a good fuck to be making dirty sounds like that huh?"

"Yes nat-"

She smirks and continues to drive her shaft inside of you while she kisses your ankle. Your eyes roll back and she can feel you clenching on her cock.

"She's such a beautiful slut Nat." Wanda purrs and Carol hums in agreement. All you can do is moan pathetically, a string of "ahs" escaping your lips as Natasha fucks you into a submissive head space.

"god I fucking love this pussy."

You open your eyes to see that Carol had a strap-on situated around her hips while Wanda stroked the base. You watch as the brunette places herself onto the faux toy where she begins to bounce herself with the help of Carol. The sight only makes you wetter if that was even possible. The only sound you can hear are the moans bouncing off the walls and the sound of skin slapping.

You watch as Wanda continues to bounce on the toy while she tugs and play with her nipples. Your orgasm nears and Natasha makes you look at her.

"Look at me. I want to watch you cum on my cock." She says while her cock hits your G-spot. With teary eyes, you cum around her cock and she groans once she feels your juices on her.

Natasha turns you onto your stomach before she grabs a handful of your ass. She grabs you by the hair and pulls you up where she presses a kiss right next to your ear.

"Show them what a good slut you are. How pretty you look when I fuck you." Natasha says while she slips her cock into you once again. Your head falls down and you moan as you get fucked into the bed.

"I said look up."

You look up again and you can see Wanda and Carol staring at you while Wanda's hips continue to move.

"You gonna cum for us again huh baby? I can feel your pussy clenching on me. Just be a good girl and cum." Natasha slaps your ass and with a few more deep thrusts she has you cumming for the fourth time that night. The redhead throws her own head back before pulling out of you and cumming onto your ass.

Wanda's orgasm crashes on her top and she arches her back while her eyes roll to the back of her head. She cums with a silent moan and Carol helps her ride her high out.

The room is silent as you all come down from the highs.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" Natasha asks in a soft tone that melts your heart, like a second ago she had not manged to just fuck your brains out.

You nod and she moves off of you.

"Come on, let's get you all cleaned up huh."

_______________________________________

Hope you enjoyed

Ann~

[thought-you-knew]

i'll never blame her, i kinda hate her

Summary: being in denial about your feelings is easy until it isn't. because why is bob dating someone who isn't you. or an even better question, why is bob trying to make you a third wheel in his new relationship? this is pt. 2 of what more could i want

Pairings: bob reynolds x fem!reader/ex-widow!reader/avoidant attachment!reader

Warnings: fluff, bit of angst, language, friends-to-lovers/idiots in love, but are both in denial, slow burnish, avoidant attachment tendencies, reader is trying her best, but is she?, a bit of kate x yelena, very limited use of y/n i'm trying my best not to use it, fem!reader, but there's not too much description, proofreadish.

Author's note: finally, here's pt.2 and i'm not sure how i feel about it. anyways, there will most likely be pt. 3 because i'm incapable of ending things and drawing things out. i blame all the kdramas i watch. anyways, hope you guys like it (: feedback is always appreciated.

WC: 3.6K

"Maybe your brain isn't free from mind control," Yelena says, half joking, from Kate's couch. "I'm serious! Why are you putting yourself in this situation?"

You have found refuge in Kate's apartment. It's not like you have been avoiding the Watchtower... okay, you've most definitely been avoiding it.

"Be nice!" Kate throws a pillow at Yelena, who catches it flawlessly before it hits her face. "Her man just got stolen."

I'm keeping my options open. What a liar.

Yelena sits up on the couch and faces you. "Be all, bitch give me my scarf back."

"It's-"

Yelena throws some popcorn at you. "Don't you dare say it's fine."

You brush off the popcorn. "There could've been a mistake."

"A mistake? She has your scarf."

Okay, fair enough. There are only so many excuses you could make for Bob, but when it comes to the scarf. You have nothing.

You think back to that time a few months ago when Bob gave you that scarf.

It was a Saturday morning, and you dragged Bob with you to a flea market in Chelsea. As usual, the area was crowded despite the early hour. Every now and then, you glanced towards Bob, making sure he was doing okay.

You both weren't a fan of big crowds, but curiosity got the better of you when Yelena mentioned that she and Kate had gone a few times. Bob was slightly in front of you when someone from behind you rudely shoved past, causing you to collide with his back.

As if it were second nature to him, Bob wraps an arm around your shoulders.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

You learn in closer, seeking out the warmth of Bob. "Mhm."

A few stands later, something catches Bob's eye. He removes his arms and grabs your hand instead. You try to ignore the feeling of his hand in yours. His hand had started to form calluses from training and working out with Bucky and John.

He tightens his hold on your hand since it's a more crowded area, and you unconsciously wrap your free hand around his bicep. He tenses slightly, but relaxes.

"Where are we going?"

Bob stops in front of a stand that's selling vintage clothes. His eyes scan the scarves that are hung up. He waits patiently until the owner notices him. They converse, and Bob points to a red paisley scarf. Once it's in his hands, he turns towards you with it slightly raised.

"Pretty scarf, it's definitely your color." You remark.

He grins and tugs you closer. Before you know what's happening, Bob is wrapping the scarf around your neck. His fingers brush against your neck as he gently untucks your hair from the scarf.

There's a moment of silence as Bob stares at you, and you start feeling that familiar fluttering sensation in your stomach. You have no idea what he's thinking as he takes in the detail of your face.

"Pretty scarf for a pretty girl." You're a hundred percent sure your brain stopped working. Because where the hell did that come from? Since when did Bob say things like that? Never.

A second later, he's back to being flustered and slightly awkward. "Uh-heh. D-do you like it?"

You look down and admire the softness and the detailing of the scarf. It's a dark red, paisley-patterned design, with tassels on the ends.

You smile with a nod, and that's that. The scarf is yours.

Bob paid for the scarf and ignored you the whole time, going back to the Watchtower when you tried to forcefully pay him back.

He turns to you with a glint in his eye. "How about this, can I ask for a favor instead?"

"A favor?"

He steps closer and tugs at the end of the scarf. "Yeah, is that okay?"

"Depends on the favor."

He laughs. "Trust me, it's not a bad one."

"What do you have in mind?"

He takes your hand and begins walking again. "You'll see."

"...and don't get me started on how she hangs off him. Bob isn't that comfortable with being touched unless he fully trusts the person." You tune back in to the conversation.

"Oh, she's not that bad." Kate tries to defend Beth. Oh, Kate, she means well, but she's only met Beth once, and that was by accident.

Last week, Bob dragged you on his date with his new girlfriend, Beth, to a dog park. You were feeling miserable, annoyed, and tired, to say the least.

You kept a reasonable distance between the two during the walk there, despite all the times Bob kept looking at you over his shoulder. The more time you spent around the pair, the more you realized that Beth was a chatterbox. Which isn't a bad thing, but when your social battery is at a constant 50% on a good day, you have no desire to be around her.

Beth and Bob had barely started going out, but every time Beth dragged Bob somewhere, Bob was dragging you along. You were trying to be a good friend to Bob, but you were getting tired of being his pseudo-emotional support dog. It's amusing that Bob was more attached to you than to his actual support dog.

Kate and Pizza Dog were a blessing in disguise. Kate had barely spent five minutes with the three of you before you were dragging Kate and Pizza Dog away from Bob and Beth while blurting out some lame ass excuse as to why you and Kate needed to leave.

"That was once, and you should hear what she had to say about you and Pizza Dog."

That caught Kate's attention. "What did she say about Pizza Dog?"

"Oh, so now you have your doubts about Beth?"

"Lena, just tell me what she said."

"Just how you didn't have him on a leash, and blah, blah, blah. That girl can talk."

Kate huffs. "His leash was in my hand! We were at a dog park. The moment we left, he was leashed back up, isn't that right?" Kate turns to you, and you nod.

Kate continues to rant on about Pizza Dog and how she's a good dog mom when your phone vibrates in your pocket. It could be only one person.

Bob.

Everyone else on the team is a horrible texter, including you.

bob: hey, where are you?

You internally groan. You completely forgot that you agreed to meet Bob and Beth at some diner near the Watchtower.

"I should go." You say even though every bone in your body is telling you not to, and you start to gather your things.

"Bob has you brainwashed or well-trained."

"Lena, stop."

"She has a point." Kate agrees and gives you a sympathetic look. It doesn't ease the ache in your chest. "You need to think about your feelings as well."

"I'll see you guys later." You say and rush out the door, away from their judgment and, in Kate's case, pity.

Kate and Yelena stare at the door before sharing a knowing look.

"It's pathetic," Yelena says. "They both remind me of these sad stray cats Ava claims she's not feeding. She fed them once, and now they keep coming back."

"Lena! But, so true," Kate sighs and cuddles up against Yelena, "things won't change unless they confess their feelings or Bob breaks up with Beth."

Yelena bolts up with a gasp. "You're a genius." She turns to Kate with a devious look.

"Lena, no. We're too old to be messing with other people's relationships." But Yelena wasn't listening. She was scheming, and she had the perfect person in mind.

"Kate, my love. You're still on good terms with Sam Wilson, right?"

"Ugh, I know this will blow up in our faces and possibly not work in the end. But yeah, I'll reach out to him."

"The sooner the better. I have a weird feeling about Beth."

The moment you enter the diner, you spot Bob's familiar slouched figure in a booth far from the door. No, Beth, that's a good sign. He looks up the moment you sit down and smiles.

"Look who finally showed up."

"I'm not the only one who's late." You pointedly look at the empty spot next to Bob.

He mumbles something and tugs at his sleeve. "I told her to be here later."

"Oh?" You say, as you try to mask the anxiousness.

Before you two can continue, the waitress appears and Bob orders two milkshakes, one of which is your favorite.

When she walks away, Bob realizes what he's done. "Sorry, was that okay? I mean, that's what you always order. Unless you weren't feeling a milkshake, I can always-"

He continues to mess with his sleeve, and you reach out, placing your hand on his. "Bob, it's fine."

The waitress returns with your milkshakes, and you don't waste any time and start in on yours. Looking up, you see that Bob has a faraway look in his eye as he stares out the window behind you.

"So, what deep, dark secrets did you want to tell me without your girlfriend here?" You say drawing the attention back to you.

"Beth isn't my girlfriend."

You might not have the best history when it comes to your past relationships. But what Bob and Beth have been doing these past few weeks has definitely been giving boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Bob, c'mon. You can be honest with me."

"I dunno, Beth has been great." He half heartedly says.

"If you're having doubts, you shouldn't be stringing her along."

His eyes meet yours, and for a second, you think you see a hint of gold around his irises. All he does is continue to stare at you and start to panic. His abilities didn't include mind reading, did they?

"You said you wanted to keep your options open," you gently continue, "maybe you should be more open about that with her, don't you think?"

"What do you think about my hair?" The complete change in subject is jarring, to say the least.

"Y-your hair? Well, it's no longer blonde, you're about that, right?"

"It's getting long, don't you think?" His hair has gotten slightly longer since the Void incident. "Beth says, I should cut it, what do you think?"

What do you think? What you think is that, somehow, his longer hair has made him even more attractive. As if that was possible.

"I like it, but it's your decision, not mine, or Beth's."

But Bob stopped listening after you said you liked his hair the length it is.

"Well, if I did wanna trim it, I want you to do it."

"Absolutely not!"

"Aw, why? C'mon, I know you cut Yelena's hair." Bob pleads.

"Yeah, and look how that turned out."

"Are you saying her hair looks bad? I'm telling Lena you said that," he pulls out his phone and starts to text Yelena. You try pulling the phone out of Bob's hand, but he has a death grip on it.

You give up. "Fine, I'll cut your hair on one condition."

Bob puts his phone down. "What condition?"

"I want my scarf back."

Finally, it's out in the open. What you've been wondering these past few weeks.

"What scarf?" He pretends to not know what you're talking about, and he's doing a bad job of it.

"The scarf, the one you gave me from the flea market. The one I wore all the time."

"Oh, that one," he awkwardly chuckles, and he's back to messing with his sleeve.

"Why did you give it to her?" You're staring him down, but he's refusing to look up.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," he mumbles.

You wanna scream, instead you stare in disbelief and say. "Okay, if that's not a big deal, then I guess it's not a big deal that I tell your girlfriend how you and I slept together."

Okay, you know it's not a fair comparison, and it was strictly platonic for the most part. Bob looks up, and his expression remains impassive.

He shrugs, "Like I said, she's not my girlfriend. Besides, you're the one who gave it back."

"What fuck are you talking about?"

"I found the scarf in my room after you left to go on that mission with Yelena."

"Yeah, I left there by mistake. Why on earth would I give it back to you? You gave it to me."

Bob seems at a loss for words, or maybe he knew his overthinking got the better of him, and he might have fucked up a bit.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. It meant a lot when you gave it to me."

"I'm sorry, I just thought..." He trails off but doesn't continue.

"Thought what?" You gently pry.

"Hey, guys! Sorry, I'm late! You know how it takes forever to get into the city on a Sunday." Beth slides next to Bob and leans in to kiss his cheek. Bob dodges it and plays it off as if he's rubbing his eye.

Now that Beth's here, all you want to do is leave.

"Actually, you have perfect timing. I was just about to head out," you say while standing up.

"Wait, what?" Bob has a pleading look on his face, but you ignore it.

"Yeah, Kate asked if I could watch Pizza Dog for her."

"Aw, you're such a good friend!" Beth replies in her overly cheerful tone.

Once again, you're up way too late, only this time you're staring blankly at your bedroom ceiling. The sad glow in the dark stars that Kate put up stare back at you. Sadly, Kate (Yelena) didn't let you crash on her couch again, so you moped all the way back to the Watchtower.

Thankfully, Bob wasn't back, so you were able to grab provisions before locking yourself away in your room.

Then you hear it, that familiar knock. The one you and Bob had made up when he first started coming to your room at the dead of night. 

Just ignore it. Pretend you're sleeping. He’ll go away.

Part of you can’t believe he has the gall to show up here. It has been weeks since he’s visited your room, and that’s mostly on your half. The past week, you’ve crashed at Kate’s place, and the other times you’ve passed out on the couch in the common area.

The gentle knocking continues as you put a pillow over your face.

"I know you're awake," Bob's muffled voice says.

Groaning, you sit up and glare at your door. Maybe he can see how pissed you are, too. Marching over, you swing open the door.

"How'd you know I was awake?"

"Okay, don't freak out, but I can kinda hear your heartbeat and breathing change when you're actually asleep." He shyly replies.

You panic, and your mind starts racing. Oh my god, Bob can hear all that. What else has he heard? Okay, no need to panic, everything is fine. But your heart is already thudding away in your chest.

Oh, yeah, Bob can hear it by the concerned look on his face. Great.

"That's great," is all you say, and you silently invite him inside, and you head back towards your bed.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he hovers at the end of your bed.

"Bob, stop saying you're sorry." It's then that you see that he has your scarf in his hands. "Is that?"

You pat the side of the bed that Bob has deemed his side. Once he's seated against the headboard, he hands over your scarf.

A sense of calm washes over you once it's back in your hands.

"I know, I need to stop saying it, but just this one last time. I'm sorry about the scarf." You look over at Bob and see that he's already watching you.

"I still don't understand why you thought I was giving it back to you."

"Like I said, just my overthinking." But you know that's not the whole truth, and Bob knows it as well. You let it go for the time being and place the scarf on your nightstand. That thing is never leaving your room again, unless it's around your neck.

You're both lying next to each other, but not touching, when you ask the next question. "Are you and Beth still?"

"For now."

For now, what does that mean?

"But still not you're girlfriend?"

"You got it."

Men

Bob turns on his side to look at you. "We're okay, though, right?"

Oh Bob

"Yeah, we're cool. Why are you asking?"

"It just feels like you're pulling away?"

You continue to stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars. "I don't want to overstep."

Bob furrows his brow and scooches closer. "Overstep what?"

You place a hand on his chest to stop him from coming closer. "You might not see Beth as your girlfriend, but she definitely sees herself as your girlfriend. That's what I mean."

"What do you call this?" He motions between you two.

Okay, you're a hypocrite, but so is he.

"This is a one last time thing." You turn your back on him, but you feel his gaze burning into the back of your head.

Your internal clock wakes you too early, and it feels like you're burning up. Or, it's just Bob clinging on to you.

Your door swings open, and an all-too-chipper Yelena breezes in. She's got two coffee mugs in her hands, and she hasn't seen Bob yet.

"Good morning, my little демпинг! Did you see that e-mail from Valent-holy shit!" Yelena now spots a half-awake Bob who's glued to your back.

You sit up, and Bob makes a disgruntled noise before trying to pull you back to him. Yelena is standing there with a semi-shocked expression.

Trying to remain calm, cool, and collected, you motion for her to continue.

She smirks. "Anyways, you two better get up. Valentina has called for a meeting in the briefing room.

Bob finally sits up, his hair a curly mess. "Is that coffee?" Is all he says, and you roll your eyes at how unfazed he is that Yelena is here.

"I can't believe he was in your bed," Yelena hisses as you sit down next to her. You shoot her a dirty look and do a quick scan of the room. Having four people with super hearing wasn't ideal in this current moment.

You had nothing to worry about. Alexei, Bob, and Bucky hadn't arrived, and John was talking with Ava.

Until he turned his gaze towards the two of you. "What's this about bed sharing?" He asks with a grin.

"None of your business."

"Oh, touchy."

Before Yelena could flip John off, the rest of the team, including Valentina and Mel, entered the room.

"Oh, good, you're all here," Valentina said without looking away from her phone while thrusting her bag at Mel.

"More like, why are we here so early?" Ava replies.

Valentina continues as if she hadn't heard Ava. "So, we all know that things are still touchy with a certain Sam Wilson." She turns her attention to Bucky, who avoids her gaze. "But I have sweet-talked him into doing this joint Gala here in New York next week."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I was the one who talked to him."

"Anyways, I think we need a little PR moment, don't you?"

"What are you going on about?" Yelena asks.

"We need to show the public that there's no bad blood between us and Sam Wilson's team."

"I think it's too late for that," John says, "have you seen the articles that have been coming out about us?"

Valentina gives him a condescending look. "That's where the PR comes in." It honestly makes no sense to you, and the rest of the team thinks the same.

"How's a gala supposed to help?"

"Well, if everyone would stop interrupting me and let me finish. Now, any PR is good PR. So, we need to make it look good and believable, and I mean we're halfway there." She's pointing towards you, Bucky, Bob, and Yelena.

"Us?" Bob replies, looking even more confused.

"Yes, Robert, you four. Bucky with his history with Sam Wilson, Yelena with her cute Hawkeye Jr. girlfriend, and you, Bob, with your sweet little innocent civilian girlfriend."

You're a little creeped out about how Valentina knows about Yelena and Kate's relationship, even more so about Beth.

Wait four?

"Once the media and public see you all with your respective partners, they'll start changing their minds.”

"Uh, excuse me, four?" You cut in, and Valentina sighs and says your name.

"I was getting to you, sweetheart. Mel says the media and public are still buzzing about your mission, a couple of months ago in Prague. Calling it your 'Heroic Avengers Moment', pose included."

"Yeah, but Ava and Alexei were there too."

She shrugs. "Yeah, but the media is focused on you, so why not give them something to really talk about?"

"No, I don't feel-"

"So, I was thinking to myself, who else is the it boy of the month? Sorry, John, it's not you. Someone who's equally as heroic, charming, daring, and not to mention, and I quote, "a total hottie".

The moment she said total hottie, you knew who she meant, and you felt your heart drop. You shoot a glare at Yelena, who's innocently watching Valentia.

When you told Yelena that, it was in total confidence, a drunken one at that, but still.

"The golden boy himself, Joaquin Torres. Congrats, honey, you got yourself a date with The Falcon."

A/N: it's finally done, i didn't think this would see the light of day. You can find the rest of my stories here

[emi-ocean]

His gaze tracks down to his hands. They look frail, ragged bandages wrapped tight over worn gloves hiding the truth. He sighs, a dry sound exiting covered lips. An armored hand on his shoulder feels reassuring, and he calmly turns to face the owner.

"Are you alright, Ophinon?" The paladin asks, her voice strong but comforting. "You seem troubled."

"I am well, but I am thankful for your concern." He responds, eyes unmoving from hers. "I am just, in thought." He turns his gaze towards the woods, seeing the bandits that are searching for them.

"You, in thought? That seems to be a constant, but these thoughts are deeper than your normal pondering, aren't they?" She pries, and he nods slowly. His eyes are on the distant bandits still, seeing them fall one by one to a spell he did with no words or effects. They will not be a bother tonight.

"When you found me, I was but a wandering practitioner of medicine and holy words." His gaze lowers again to his hands. "You cared not for my appearance, nor my reasoning for hiding my visage."

"Those things are all true, yes." She answers, taking a seat on a log near him.

"You have not asked much about who I am after I expressed my, discomfort in sharing more than what is necessary."

"Yes. That is also true."

"Why?" He turns to look at her, violet orbs of unnatural light staring at her green eyes. "Do you not wish to uncover the secrets of all you know? To know those whose camp you share?"

For a moment, they stare at each other, a silence so heavy it weighs down the very air. And then, like a crack of thunder, she breaks it with a laugh. Hearty and whole, she has to catch herself from falling backwards.

"That is your concern? This is what troubles your mind? Ophinon, my friend, it is simple; we are friends! Companions! You have saved my life from death more than once. Do you remember when I had been poisoned by that foul beast from beyond our realm? I laid there in agony, for days, and yet you never left my side, doing all you could to ease my pain. You never slept, never rested until you could find the cure to cease that tortuous misery. We have traveled far and wide, seeing things I never thought possible. I have prayed to shrines of my God I never knew existed, older than I could fathom!" She smiles, a genuine look of joy and care. He looks down, almost in shame, but more pondering.

"Friends." He repeats. "I did not remember what it was like to have them." He speaks of the times when he knew that beast from beyond, a similar creature to one he summoned, eons ago. Those shrines she spoke of were ones he knew, having seen the stone cut and brought to their holy grounds. How long ago had that been? Her words once again cut through his thoughts.

"And there you go again, back into your own head. It must be lonely in there. Come." As she speaks she stands up and offers a hand to him. He looks at it, puzzled. "Oh don't be so frumpy. Thaddeus has a new song he wishes to show us. Let us, well, allow ourselves to at least hear what nonsense it may be. Spend time with your comrades, your friends. I'm sure whatever is out in those woods, be it Gods or monsters, will wait for you." Her smile remains, a radiant reminder of her never ending faith. She is the strongest of this group, at least in terms of will.

He looks at her, and then her hand. Finally, his own. In that brief moment he remembers how many he struck down, just like her. How many he brought to kneel before him. And how, after so many years of that, after an uncountable lifetime, he wished nothing more than to hear a song from the one named Thaddeus.

"Aye. I'll leave my thoughts here this evening. Let us be about, and hear what nonsense he will spout."

"You keep rhyming like that, Thaddeus will think you're trying to one up him." She takes his hand and helps him up, not caring about the unnatural cold that emanates from him. She's used to that.

A Lich Lord covered his head with rags and disguised himself as a cleric, then joined the heroes' party. His reasoning? He was bored and wanted to see the world without instilling fear.

[goobstars]

Hallo! I've never done one of these before, but I love your writing, and I was thinking about a Jax x reader where he sleepwalks into her room by accident and falls asleep next to her. Goofiness ensues. Idk, it's silly/fluffy romantic tone.

It's really dumb but I figured it'd be cute, you don't have to do it or anything!

Thanks! <3

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃

summary : usually when you woke up, you'd be met with the boring sight of your room, but today, you were met with the view of jax asleep next to you.

tags : romance, a suggestive joke for giggles, and very silly stuffs.

note : i love when people elaborate on goofiness because then that means i don't have to take this seriously. i hope you enjoy the sillys.

if you had to choose a favourite thing to do in the circus, it would be sleeping.

not the adventures, not the 'friends you made along the way'—it was sleep.

sleep meant that you got to forget all about this place, and you didn't care if it was just for a little bit. when you were asleep, you weren't in this digital hell.

the only downside to sleep was that when you woke up, you were reminded about where you were. you were reminded with every glance you'd give around your oddly decorated room. usually, that was the first thing you'd see when you woke up.

but today was different.

you slightly moved around your bed while your eyes remained closed, and you turned your head to the side before partially opening your eyes.

instead of the sight you were used to, you were met with the view of jax.

his eyes were closed while his chest rose with every breath he took, and you paused for a moment as you blinked a few times. were you imagining his presence? why would he be in your room?

you slowly reached out a hand to poke his arm, and you shot up once you actually felt something.

your reaction seemed to wake up jax as he let out a groan, and he opened his eyes before staring at you in confusion. "what—"

you didn't give him a chance to speak as you screamed.

"WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED!?"

"your bed?" jax repeated as he let out a scoff, "i'm pretty sure this is my room, dollface—"

he paused for a moment before he slightly sat up, and he looked around before his eyes widened. "how did i get in here...?"

"through the door?"

his head slowly turned as he frowned at you, and he gave you a fake laugh. "very funny." you only gave him a thumbs up before flopping back down on your pillows, and you shifted so you were on your side so you could look at him. "anyways, you can cut the act, jax. why did you come in here?"

"you're very accusing, you know. what if you kidnapped me from my room and put me in here so you could cause drama?"

"you're too heavy for me to pick up."

"first you accuse me of sneaking into your room, and now you're judging me? you have a lot of nerve for someone who stole me from my room." jax smirked once you rolled your eyes, and you snatched the blanket from him while he pouted at you. "you're really going to let me freeze to death?"

"i will unless you admit that you snuck into my room."

jax let out a dramatic sigh before he flopped back down on the bed, and you frowned at him while he rested beside you. if you were being honest, you wanted him out. you wanted to go back to sleep because it felt like it was early in the morning, despite time not existing here.

"listen, doll—i didn't sneak into your room."

"then how did you get here?"

"through the door." he mocked you from earlier, and you only shot him a scowl as he shrugged. "i don't know what else you want me to say, i'm telling the truth."

you narrowed your eyes, but all you saw was a genuine look in his eyes. he wasn't lying, but then how did he get in here?

"do you sleepwalk?" you bluntly questioned, and jax paused for a moment. his eyes slightly widened while his mouth went into a straight line.

that expression was your answer.

"why didn't you just say you sleepwalk?"

"because ragatha told me she found me walking around while i was asleep, but i thought she was lying to get back at me for putting a centipede in her hair."

his answer made you let out a snicker as you leaned back against your pillows, and you got comfortable while jax just stared at you in confusion. "what are you doing?"

"going back to sleep."

at your answer, he was perplexed as to why you didn't want to talk about the issue further, but he didn't say anything. he just started to get up from your bed because he assumed you would want him to leave.

but instead, he felt a hand grab his own.

he peered over his shoulder to eye the way you held his hand, and you gently tugged it before mumbling, "why don't you just stay here? your room's so far away..."

"you askin' me to sleep with you, doll?" you tightly squeezed his hand while jax let out a chuckle, "i'm just kidding...i guess i'll stay, even though you're making me lose the possibilities of getting my steps in."

you let out a tired laugh at his words, and he got back onto your bed before shifting onto his back. the blanket was tossed onto his legs, and he moved it up to his chest while he put his hands behind his head. he stared up at the ceiling before glancing at you, and he noted how your eyes were already closed.

he slowly shifted onto his side while resting his head against his arm, and the other one moved to fidget with the blanket as he eyed you.

were you already asleep?

by your quiet breaths, he assumed so.

he didn't know how he got here, and as much as he wanted to think that he sleepwalked here, it was more than likely the truth. ragatha had made comments about how she saw him roaming the hallways, but he didn't want to believe it.

why? because every time ragatha said something about him walking, it was always the same nights when he had nightmares.

the nightmares weren't constant, and after ragatha had stopped saying anything after a bit, he believed that he had gotten over the sleepwalking. yet, last night, he had a nightmare about ribbit. the name itself was one that made his stomach churned, and the nightmare didn't help that. replays of the abstraction whirred in his mind as if it were playing a movie, and he hated it.

usually, he'd wake up in his own room after the nightmares, but this time, he woke up in yours.

and for some odd reason, a while before you woke him up, the nightmare vanished like it had never even occurred. the nightmare typically continued until he woke up or was woken up, but that wasn't the case this time. the nightmare stopped midway.

was that around the time he came into your room? why did it just randomly stop?

his eyes flickered across your face, and he let out a low breath.

why did he come into your room?

he'd figure out the answer later, for all he wanted to do right now was sleep. it was his favourite thing to do in the circus.

besides being around you, of course.

[bsturnzmtts]

Off limits p. 2 - Matt Sturniolo

Part 1 here

Pairing: older sisters bf!Matt x innocent!reader

Summary: You’ve always had a small crush on your sister’s boyfriend. But you never acted on it, not until this summer, after you found out some things that changed everything.

Warnings: long plot?, cheating (I don’t condone cheating this is all fiction), teasing, age gap (Matt is 22 reader 18), virgin!reader, oral, lowkey mean!sister, kissing, fingering, pet names, clit spanking, “just the tip”, outercourse sex, p in v, virginity loss, sneaking around, unprotected sex, etc…

You should regret it.

You really should.

He’s not just anyone…he’s your sister’s boyfriend. Completely off limits. The one person you were never supposed to want, let alone touch. But the way he looked at you… it’s burned into your memory. The softness in his eyes, the way his voice dropped when he said your name, the way his lips felt against yours, and the way his hands moved across your skin, all of it plays on a loop in your head as you lie awake in bed. You barely slept. Every time you closed your eyes, it came back. Not just what happened… but that you didn’t pull away.

You wake up to soft light spilling into your room. The events from last night swirl in your mind, making it hard to settle. Your throat feels dry, and your stomach twists nervously.

After a few deep breaths, you push yourself out of bed and quietly make your way downstairs, hoping a bit of normalcy will calm your racing thoughts.

As you reach the kitchen, you freeze at the doorway.

Matt and your sister are there, sitting close together at the table. Your sister’s hand rests gently on Matt’s arm, her tone unusually sweet as she says, “Hey, good morning! Look, we’re all good now.” She leans in and leaves a small kiss on Matt’s cheek.

Matt nods once, his face is serious, almost cold, and he quickly looks away. He doesn’t say a word, not meeting your sister’s gaze or yours.

You force a small smile, stepping fully into the room, though the air feels thick and hard to breathe. “Morning,” you mumble, reaching for a glass of water just to give yourself something to do. You can feel Matt’s eyes on you for a split second before he looks away again.

Your sister doesn’t seem to notice the tension. She’s all smiles, too cheerful. “I was thinking we could go to the lake later,” she says. “Take the boat out. It’ll be fun.”

You shake your head lightly. “I’m not really in the mood, you guys can go, I'll just stay here.”

Matt sets his coffee down. “Same. I’m not feeling it either.”

Your sister lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, you two are so boring,” she mutters with a half-laugh, trying to brush off the tension.

Matt doesn’t respond. You don’t either.

Whatever she thought this sweet morning act would fix… clearly didn’t.

Your sister rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Ugh, fine.” She scoffs. “Some of my friends are staying at a cabin nearby. I’ll go hang out with them, at least they actually want to spend time with me.”

She stands up and heads to her room to get ready.

The house suddenly feels emptier without her. The silence settles heavy around you, making everything feel colder, more tense.

Later, Matt finds you alone in the living room. He hesitates for a moment, then sits down next to you.

“Can we talk?” he asks quietly.

Before you can answer. Your sister walks in, eyes narrowing as she sees you two sitting close.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” she asks Matt.

Matt's jaw tightens slightly at her question, his eyes flickering between you and your sister. "Nah, I'm actually not feeling great today," he says, his voice flat, maintaining his serious expression.

Your sister lingers, watching the space between you two. Her smile fades slightly. “Right…” The silence stretches. Her eyes narrow, just for a second. “Have fun doing nothing,” she says, voice clipped. Then she turns and disappears down the hall, her door slamming shut a second later.

The slam of her door leaves a hollow silence behind.

You and Matt just sit there. Neither of you says a word. The quiet stretches on, heavy and uncomfortable. You shift slightly in your seat, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. Matt stares straight ahead, jaw tense, leg bouncing.

It’s awkward. So much happened last night.

You finally break the silence.

“So… everything’s good with you guys now?”

Your voice is soft, but the question hangs sharp in the air. You don’t look at him when you ask it. You can’t.

Matt doesn’t answer right away. His jaw is locked tight. He stares straight ahead, like he’s trying to find the right words, or maybe just trying not to say the wrong ones.

Finally, he exhales, slow and shaky.

“No,” he says quietly. Then, after a beat, “That’s what she thinks.”

You nod slowly, unsure what to say. Your fingers keep fidgeting in your lap, and the silence between you feels too tight to breathe through.

Matt leans back slightly, dragging a hand through his hair. “She woke up this morning acting like everything was fixed,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You glance over at him. “And you just… went along with it?”

His eyes finally meet yours. “What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to start another fight.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t forgive her. I just didn’t want to make a scene. Especially not with you there.”

You look away again, heart pounding harder than it should.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”

You look at him, curious and a little frustrated. “Then why are you still with her? Why don’t you just break up?”

Matt’s eyes flicker with something unreadable. “If I break up with her now… it means I have to leave the cabin and go home.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “And I wouldn’t get to see you.”

The words hang heavy between you. You don’t know what to say next.

You look away, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. “Matt…” you start, voice soft. “She’s your girlfriend. My sister. This is… it’s wrong.”

Matt leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. “I know,” he says, voice low but urgent. “I know it’s wrong.” He pauses, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His confession hangs heavy between you, the words thick with implication. You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest. You should say something,anything… but the words stick in your throat. Matt leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re the only thing I want right now. Not her.”

You shake your head slightly, eyes stinging. “Don’t say that,” you whisper, even though part of you aches to hear it again.

Matt’s voice drops lower, filled with a rough edge. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

His words hang heavy in the air, stirring everything you’re trying to push down.

You swallow hard, cheeks burning. Your voice is soft, almost shaky. “Last night… it shouldn’t have happened.”

Matt’s eyes search yours, a small, teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you like it?” he asks quietly, his tone both playful and serious.

Your heart skips a beat. You hesitate, then nod barely noticeable, your breath catching in your throat.

Matt watches you closely, his smirk widening slightly. “Did you like my mouth between your legs?” His voice is low, almost unrecognizable, like he’s testing your reaction. Your cheeks burn hotter. You press your thighs together tightly.

"Did you like my fingers inside you?" He whispers the words directly into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hand moves to your thigh squeezing gently. "Because I loved it." His thumb traces patterns on your leg through your dress. "So much."

You whisper hoarsely, "Matt... stop." But your body betrays you by leaning into his touch instead of pulling away. Your hand covers his on your thigh, pushing it away slightly. Your eyes meet his intensely "This is wrong..." You remind him weakly.

Matt watches your body language carefully, how you push his hand away but spread your thighs slightly wider. He smirks slightly, knowing your denial doesn't match your actions. "You always say that," he mutters softly.

Your hand still rests lightly over his, not fully pushing him away anymore, but not pulling him closer either. Your breath trembles as you speak, voice barely above a whisper.

“What if… what if my sister finds out?”

The question hangs between you like a warning. Heavy. Real. The heat of the moment suddenly cooled by fear and guilt.

Matt’s eyes stay on yours, something unreadable flickering in them. He doesn’t answer right away.

Your question lingers in the silence, and when Matt doesn’t respond right away, something shifts inside you.

You slowly stand up, pulling your hand away from his. “I should go to my room,” you say softly, avoiding his eyes. Your voice wavers just enough to give you away.

The floor creaks under your steps. You feel his eyes on your back, but he doesn’t follow.

Matt stays there, alone in the quiet room, sinking back into the couch. He runs a hand down his face, mind racing.

Time passes. The house stays still, heavy with everything unsaid.

Then, the front door opens. Footsteps echo down the hallway.

Your sister’s voice calls out casually, “I’m back!”

Her footsteps head straight down the hall. A moment later, you hear her door open.

She’s back in the room with Matt.

You lie still in your bed.

Muted voices come from the other room. You can’t make out words, just the low murmur of your sister talking, and Matt answering every now and then, his voice quieter, duller.

You imagine her trying to cuddle up next to him, laughing, acting like everything’s normal.

Time drags. The house goes quiet again.

You’re just about to turn off your lamp to go to sleep when the door creaks open.

Matt steps in, quietly closing it behind him. His hair’s a mess, his face unreadable in the low light. He stands there for a second like he’s not sure what to say.

“Matt? What are you doing here?’ You ask in a whispering voice not wanting your sister to hear you.

"Shh," he whispers back, taking a careful step closer. His voice is thick with something you can't quite place - desire, regret, maybe both. "I can't fucking sleep knowing you're in here, next door." He runs a hand through his hair roughly, standing at the foot of your bed.

You swallow hard, watching him stand there in the moonlight streaming through your window. You're only wearing a thin tank top and shorts, your hair down and messy from sleep. Matt swallows hard too, watching you watch him. He takes another step closer. "Can I..." He pauses, clearing his throat.

You bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. "I… I don't know if it's a good idea." You whisper softly, pulling the covers up slightly to hide your body's reaction to him being here like this.

Matt nods slowly, like he expected that answer. But he doesn't leave. Instead, he takes another step closer until he's right at the edge of your bed. "I know," he whispers back softly. His eyes drop to where the blankets cover your chest briefly before snapping back up to your face.

Without another word, Matt carefully climbs into bed with you. He slides in behind you, pulling the blankets up over both of you. He's careful not to touch you, keeping a small gap between your bodies. But he's there. In your bed. His warmth seeping into your back despite the distance.

Matt leans in slowly, his breath warm on your neck. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to pull away if you want to. But you don't move. He takes that as a silent invitation and presses his lips gently against your neck, just below your ear.

His hand comes up to rest on your hip possessively as he kisses your neck again, this time opening his mouth slightly to suck gently. His fingers dig into your hip bone almost painfully. "Fuck..."

Matt's other hand reaches up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. He starts to leave a trail of sucking kisses down your neck, his breathing growing heavier with each one.

Without warning, he turns you onto your back and captures your mouth with his, kissing you fiercely. His hand moves from your hip to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss is deep, passionate, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw and neck again, his hands roaming over your body under the covers. His hand moves down to your tiny shorts, teasing you through the fabric. “Fuck, you’re not wearing any panties.”

You gasp softly at the sensation of his fingers pressing against you through your shorts. "Matt... we shouldn't," you whisper breathlessly, but your body arches into his touch despite your words.

Matt ignores your protest, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down in one swift motion. "Shh," he whispers against your ear, "You just gotta be quiet. She can't hear us… If you make any sound I’ll stop."

Matt's fingers find your center, slipping between your folds easily. He groans at how wet you already are. "Fuck, you're soaking." He starts to rub you slowly, his thumb pressing against your clit. His other hand covers your mouth, muffling any sounds that try to escape.

You bite down on his hand to keep from moaning as he adds a finger inside you, pumping it in and out slowly while his thumb circles your clit. He adds another finger, stretching you open as he kisses your neck harshly to distract you from any noise. "Shh..." He warns again.

His voice drops to a husky whisper near your ear, "You remember how good my mouth felt between your legs last time? Should I kiss you there again? Should I lick your sweet little pussy until you come all over my face?" He continues moving his fingers inside you while speaking, driving you crazy.

You whimper against his hand, your body shaking with need. You nod vigorously, your eyes pleading with him to do exactly as he suggested.

“But you gotta stay quiet, okay? You can’t make any noise.” Matt smirks against your neck before suddenly removing his fingers and sliding down between your thighs. He pushes your legs apart roughly but quietly before burying his face between them.

He starts licking you slowly, his tongue flat against your folds. He tastes you thoroughly, savoring the sweetness of your juices. His hands grip your thighs tightly, keeping your legs open as he eats you out like a starving man.

You try to keep quiet but your body betrays you when he finds your clit with his tongue and starts sucking it gently while flicking it rapidly. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as muffled whimpers escape despite yourself.

Matt's muffled groans vibrate against you as he continues eating you out hungrily - licking, sucking, gently until suddenly two fingers enter you again while his tongue stays focused on your clit." Keep quiet baby," he whispers against you between licks."Don't wanna wake her up."

Your body tenses and shakes as he finger fucks you slowly while sucking and licking your clit. You bite down hard on your hand to keep from screaming out as the pleasure builds and builds. Tears start to stream down your face from the effort of staying quiet. But you can’t, some soft moans escape your mouth.

Matt pauses for a moment, looking up at you with a stern expression. Without warning, he slaps his wet fingers against your clit, making you jump and gasp in shock feeling a bit of pain and pleasure. “I told you to stay quiet, didn't I?”

He goes back to eating you out with renewed intensity, his fingers curling up inside you to hit that sensitive spot. Every few seconds, he pauses to slap your clit with his wet fingers or bites down gently, making you squeak and bite down harder on your hand. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

"Look at you," he whispers against your thigh, before licking up your arousal that's dripping down. "Dying to come while trying to stay quiet. Is it turning you on more that we could get caught by your sister?" He pushes his fingers deeper inside you, curling them perfectly.

You throw your head back against the pillow, tears streaming down your face from both pleasure and the strain of staying silent. Matt's words and actions push you closer to the edge.

"Come for me baby," he whispers against your clit before sucking it hard into his mouth again. His fingers pump faster inside you while he uses his tongue expertly on that sensitive spot. "Let go," he commands softly.

Your body obeys his command, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your hips buck against his face as you come hard, your muffled screams turning into choked sobs. Your body shakes slightly as he continues to lick and suck your clit gently through your orgasm.

As the last waves of your orgasm subside, Matt slowly pulls his fingers out of you and wipes his face with the back of his hand. He gives you a smug smile, clearly pleased with himself. "That's a good girl," he whispers before leaning in to kiss you deeply.

He kisses you deeply, letting you taste your own sweetness on his lips. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You did so well staying quiet," he says softly, running a hand through your hair. Then he takes off his pants, letting out his hard cock.

You get a bit nervous as you see his cock for the first time. “Matt…”

"Shh, it's okay," Matt interrupts you softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "I know you’re a virgin… just let me rub against you, okay? I don’t have to put it in.”

You swallow hard, nodding softly. Matt smirks slightly, clearly pleased with your trust. "Just spread your legs for me baby," he guides your legs apart gently. He settles between them, his hard length resting against your soaking wet folds without entering you. He starts to grind against you slowly, his length sliding between your lips and hitting your clit with each motion. "Fuck…"

He keeps grinding against you slowly, his cock sliding between your wet folds and hitting your clit with each thrust. The head of his cock hits your entrance but doesn't push in, just teasing you. He reaches down and spreads your legs wider apart to get better access, making soft groans in your ear.

You let out a soft whimper as he hits your clit perfectly with each grind. Your hands grip his arms tightly. "Matt... it feels so good," you whisper quietly, your hips starting to move slightly against him instinctively. He kisses you deeply to muffle any louder sounds you might make.

He groans into your mouth, his hips moving faster against you. "You feel so fucking good," he murmurs against your lips. "Your little pussy is so wet and warm."

He continues to grind against you for a few more moments before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. His breath is ragged as he asks quietly between kisses: “Can I put just…the tip in?” He presses just slightly harder against your entrance without pushing inside yet.

You bite your lip nervously but nod slowly. "Okay..." you whisper softly. Matt gives you a gentle kiss before slowly pushing just the tip of his cock inside you. You gasp quietly at the sudden stretch and slight pain. He freezes immediately, giving you time to adjust.`"Shh..."

Matt leans down and whispers softly into your ear, "It's okay baby, it's just the tip... Fuck, you're so tight." He kisses you gently to distract you from any discomfort. He doesn't move any further inside you yet, letting you get used to the sensation of having him there.

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing slightly as the initial pain subsides. "It's okay," you whisper, "it feels... good." Matt smiles against your lips, clearly pleased with your response. He starts to move very slowly, pushing in just a fraction more but still only the tip.

Matt continues to move slowly, his hips moving in shallow thrusts.He keeps a close eye on your expression, making sure you're okay. "You're doing so well," he praises softly, his hand coming up to gently caress your cheek. "Such a good girl, taking me so well." Matt murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "You like that?"

"Mm-hmm," you whisper back, feeling a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort, feeling Matt's tip stretch you open. You're so wet and ready that he could probably push in deeper without much resistance.

Matt groans softly at your response, his hips moving in slightly deeper thrusts now. "Fuck, your little pussy is so fucking wet," he whispers against your lips. "It's pulling me in, trying to suck me deeper... Fuck."

Matt chuckles softly against your lips, his voice strained. "Shit, baby... I know I said only the tip, but fuck, you're so wet and ready for me... fuck, you're making it so hard to resist." Can I push in deeper? Just a little more?" He grinds against you harder, his cock throbbing at the thought of being deeper inside your tight pussy.

You bite your lip nervously, looking up at Matt with wide eyes. "Will... will it hurt if you go deeper?" you ask quietly, your voice shaking slightly. "I'm scared it might be too big..." You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly.

Matt cups your face gently, kissing your forehead. "Baby, I promise, it might feel weird and a little uncomfortable at first, but I'll go really slow, okay? And if it hurts, I'll stop right away. I'd never hurt you, sweetheart." He kisses your forehead again.

Matt takes a deep breath and slowly pushes in a little deeper, his cock stretching your tight pussy. He pauses, giving you time to adjust. "You're doing so good," he whispers, his voice strained with desire. He starts to move slowly, inch by inch, pushing deeper inside you.

As he pushes deeper inside you, Matt leans down and whispers in your ear, "Remember baby... gotta stay quiet." He punctuates his words with a gentle thrust, making sure you feel him fully now. "Don't want your sister to hear us now do we?"

You whimper softly, biting your lip to muffle the sound as Matt fills you completely. It feels strange and a little uncomfortable at first, but it also feels good in a way you can't quite describe. You nod your head, understanding Matt's words.

Matt starts to move slowly, his hips rocking against yours. He kisses you deeply, swallowing any sounds that might escape your lips. "That's it," he whispers between kisses. "Just like that... fuck, your little pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock." His pace picks up slightly but remains gentle.

You feel a mix of sensations, the stretch and fullness of Matt's cock inside you, the gentle rocking of his hips against yours, and the pressure building in your lower belly. You're so turned on that you can barely think straight. The forbidden nature of it all makes it even more intense.

"You're taking me so well, baby..." he whispers, picking up the pace slightly. "Can you feel how deep I am inside you?" He grinds his hips, hitting a spot that makes you gasp silently, his hand quickly covering your mouth. "Shh... quiet."

He starts to thrust a bit faster, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy. He hits that spot over and over, his hand still covering your mouth to keep you quiet. He can feel you getting wetter and wetter around him, making it easier for him to move inside you.

Matt's breathing becomes heavier, his thrusts more urgent but still controlled. He leans down to kiss your neck softly, his voice low and husky in your ear. "I'm gonna fuck you harder now baby... but you gotta stay quiet." He pulls out slightly before pushing back in deeper than ever.

You nod against his shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around him. He starts to fuck you harder, faster, his cock pounding into your pussy with each thrust. The sound of skin hitting skin fills the room but Matt's hand over your mouth keeps any noise from escaping.

Matt's hips slam against yours, his cock driving into your tight pussy over and over again. He can feel the pressure building inside him but he wants you to come first. He reaches down with his free hand and starts rubbing your clit in circles while he fucks you.

You bite down hard on Matt's hand, a muffled cry escaping your lips as he fucks you harder and rubs your clit with just the right pressure. Your pussy clenches around his cock as you get closer and closer to the edge. "Mmmph”

Matt feels your pussy tightening around him and knows you're close. He leans down to whisper in your ear, "Come for me baby... I want to feel that tight little pussy squeeze my cock." He thrusts harder and faster, his fingers working your clit furiously.

Your body tenses as the waves of pleasure wash over you. You muffle your scream into Matt's hand, your pussy convulsing around his thick cock as you come harder than you ever have before. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, drawing it out as long as possible.

"That's it... fuck yes..." he groans quietly, feeling your orgasm pulse around his cock. He slows his thrusts but keeps moving, drawing out every last tremble of your climax. His own release is building rapidly, his balls tight against him.

With a final, deep thrust, he pulls out of your sensitive pussy and wraps his hand around his throbbing cock. He jerks himself off quickly, hot cum spilling out and coating your pussy and inner thighs.

Matt's breath is ragged as he finishes, coating your pussy and inner thighs with thick ropes of cum. He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms as he tries to catch his breath. His hand remains loosely over your mouth, even though no more sounds are escaping.

He kisses your neck softly before removing his hand from your mouth. "You were so fucking perfect baby... I've been wanting that for so long." He runs his fingers through your hair gently before pulling out a tissue to clean up some of the mess he made.

You look up at him with wide eyes, still catching your breath. "Really?" You whisper nervously.

Matt smiles down at you warmly, his fingers tracing your cheek. "Really... I've been wanting this for a long time." He leans in to kiss you softly before pulling back slightly. “I mean I’ve always found you prettier than you sister…” he says as he starts leaving little kisses all over your neck and face. “And… kinder” he says in between kisses. “sweeter… cuter” he keeps saying in between kisses as his hands move to your sides to tickle you slightly.

You giggle softly, not making a lot of noise, trying to squirm away from his tickling fingers. "Stop..." you say playfully, pushing against his chest. "So you've always thought that?" You look up at him with innocent eyes.

Matt's eyes sparkle with amusement as he continues to tickle you, loving the way you giggle and squirm. "Mhm... always." He says between kisses on your cheeks and nose. "You're just so fucking adorable, I can't help myself."

He finally stops tickling you and wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close. "I think we should keep doing this... if you want."

You bite your lip nervously, your arms wrapping around his neck instead of pushing him away like you usually do when he gets too close. "What if my sister finds out?" You whisper softly, your voice barely audible. "She'll kill me..." You try to joke but it comes out shaky and nervous instead.

Matt chuckles softly, understanding your concern. He runs his fingers through your hair, trying to soothe your nerves. "She doesn't have to know." He leans in closer, his voice low and reassuring. "This can be our little secret."

Taglist pt 1:

@blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

@megamorgan44 @xaristhings @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack

@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

@sturniololover69 @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk

@lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah

@esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee

@sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt @lolastrniolo @pip4444chris @idrk2292

@strnilolover @2prcntmilkluvr @chrissbows @chrissweetheart @strvnolin

[smutmind]

Ryujin femdom

tags: bratty femdom, dominant female, sub male, blowjob, face riding, deepthroat, rough sex, size difference, bbc, pussy worship, riding, spanking, cock worship, orgasm control, begging, slapping, dom/sub dynamic, creampie, overstimulation, messy sex

The apartment stank of sweat, orange soda, and leftover fries.

You’re still peeling off your hoodie when she shoves the door shut behind you with her bare foot. Ryujin stands there in white micro-shorts and a pink tee that’s a size too small, riding just high enough to flash a sliver of taut belly. Her hair's chaos—tangled, dark, sexy as hell. Oversized glasses slide down her nose, giving her that dangerous librarian vibe.

That smile she wears? Trouble.

“Took you long enough,” she says, chewing her gum slow. Her voice has that curled-up edge of sarcasm, like she’s daring you to react. “What, had to jerk off before you came over?”

You flinch. "No. Just got off work."

She snorts and plucks the hem of her shirt, tugging it slightly lower, then changes her mind and lifts it. Just enough. Her belly ring catches the overhead light.

“Mm-hmm. Liar.”

She saunters past you, brushing her ass against your thigh on purpose, low-slung shorts riding up even higher. You hear the fridge open, the fizz of a can. She doesn’t offer you one. Just gulps it loud, then leans against the counter, eyes raking over you like she owns the lease on your skin.

“You gonna stand there looking like a kicked puppy, or are you gonna put that mouth to better use?”

Your throat clicks dry. "Ryujin—"

She steps close. Her hand slides up your chest, fingers splayed, firm. "Strip. Sit down. I want to watch you lose it."

You do as you're told. She kneels between your legs, tugging your pants down with a sharp, amused snort the moment your cock springs free.

"Jesus... no wonder you act like you’ve got something to prove. This thing’s stupid big."

Before you can reply, her glasses tilt with the force of her descent—lips warm, tongue insistent. She takes you into her mouth, messier this time, sloppy on purpose. Her spit glistens across your length as she fists the base and drives you deeper.

Your eyes roll back. She doesn’t let up.

“Mmmph... gonna cum already?” she teases, voice muffled as she strokes and sucks in tandem.

You groan. "Fuck, Ryujin—I'm gonna—"

She pulls back just in time, angling her face up. You explode across her cheek, her glasses, her lips. She lets it drip without flinching. One finger wipes a streak off her mouth so she can lick it.

“Good,” she smirks, standing. “But I’m not finished.”

She strips with no ceremony now. Shirt gone, shorts kicked off. Glasses still on. No bra. Nipples hard from the AC. She straddles you again, dripping wet, thighs slick. This time she doesn’t bother with teasing.

She lines herself up, lets your tip part her folds.

“You’re gonna stretch me all over again,” she mutters, breath shaky. “But I’m still in charge. Got it?”

You nod, dazed.

“Say it.”

“You’re in charge.”

She sinks down. Slower this time, every inch dragging a sound from her throat. She winces—but forces herself to take it all.

“F-fuck,” she gasps. “It hurts. But it’s mine.”

You reach for her waist—she slaps your hand away again. “No touching. I’m using you.”

Her hips start to roll. Her breathing’s ragged, teeth grit. “You feel it, right? How I’m breaking around you?”

You can only groan. She rides you, thighs trembling with the strain, her slick heat gripping your shaft like velvet.

She leans down, tongue flicking your neck. “Still mine.”

You want to cum again. She knows it. And she lets it build—grinding harder, riding faster, until she’s biting her lip to stay loud.

“Cum,” she hisses. “I want every drop. Now.”

You explode a second time, deeper, harder. She cries out as she milks you through it, shivering on top of you. Her body trembles, sweat-slicked and spent.

Your cum leaks between her thighs as she collapses to your chest, glasses askew, breathing heavy.

“Next time,” she pants, licking her lips, “I want it in my mouth first.”

[purpleprints]

20 Feet Underground

I live on the westside, never met my dad and my mom lived two lives. She wouldn't let me go outside much because she ran the streets. Sometimes I would wake up to her not even being here. yea, I don't see her for days. we did stay down the street from my uncle, but my mom lost that house and refuse to go back to grandma. Grandma don't even know where we stay now because she tried to call child services on my mom. living with grandma wouldn't have been no better. She just wants to get a check out of it. everything revolves around money.

I had a little brother, but he's also the first dead body I seen. his name was Maurice, his dad fought for custody for him and lost, when he heard from the cops Maurice got ran over by a car...he blew his brains out in his car. That was the day our big cousin Jude was watching us. Jude use to put a needle in his veins and drink until he fell asleep. He in jail now for child neglect. I'm 16 years old and she's never around so I be outside too. I used her Medicaid to get one of the flip phones they sell outside them tents, and when I found the key to the mailbox, I had a first check for SSI. I usually used it for food and hygiene.

We had some leftover milk so, I made some cereal and sat in my room. I heard the front door slam, and the vent in the kitchen came on. "Fatima", she called out. I rolled my eyes dragging my feet to the living room. " yes". I looked at her while she moves from one counter to the other. "Where the food come from? Did you go by your grandma? I stood quiet staring at her. " Oh, so you can't talk now?"

"Jehovah witness stopped by, they said, the food their walking around with are charity."

she just stared at me, crossing her arms. "Jehovah? them motherfuckers just want to be noisy. you just dirty, every time I see you, you're wearing them ripped up tights?

I looked down," I had these since I was 9...I'm sixteen".

She held her head down for a moment, I hope she's as embarrassed as me deep down inside, she lifted up a bag full of stuff in it and told me to bring it to my room. When I walked to my room she followed me. "Yes?' I said turning towards her.

"You been going to school?"

why she asked that shit,

"They say I need to come in better uniform", I said. I didn't want to look at her, but I know how much she love attention, so I just sat on my mattress and looked at her.

"Oh, so school a fashion show?"

she walked out my room and went into hers. fashion show? I hate going to school, I'm way different from the other teens. I tried to keep things clean but, this house dirty as the fuck, and we don't have soap powder. a knock came at my window, I turned around seeing Betsy. I met her like 3 weeks ago on the block somewhere near the corner store.

I raised the window up, " your stalking me now?"

"Girl, look. I need you to hold this bag down for me. I really need you."

"what's in the bag?'

"My work, and I'll put ya musty ass on if you take the bag"

" Fuck you," I said pulling the window down

"You fucking playing?'

I just stared at her, and rolled it back up, "I don't know about friends but a real one, would've gave me deodorant if she felt I was musty, and you know what I go through, ugly ass".

she smacked her teeth and threw the bag in my room, from the window. "Meet me on the street you see me on when you get off that bus. I'll be there at 1am. you do this, I'll show you a friend,"

I looked back at the bag, picked it up and when I looked back at the window, she was gone. I barley even know her for real; she just calls me pretty girl every time she sees me, we talk a little. I put the bag in my closet with my brother baby blanket over it.

Time went by, and I just looked out the window, my mom was still in her room. when I went in there, she was slob-Ing: laid out on her mattress. She been in there for 6 hours, I thought she was a dead body. her room has a dead bull lock on it. the drugs made my mom lose weight; she was almost as small as me. We have the same breast but Shes big at the top, and now small at the bottom. I need to have the right colors, because I have a dangerous block to pass up in order to meet Betsy. this my only chance to go in my mom bag of clothes and find something decent to put on. She barley had clothes herself, but I see some things I can fit.

After I found something, I rushed to the bathroom and ran some hot water and sat in it. I heard another slam at the door, I guess she is leaving for another three days. it's now 10:56. hours and hours of nothing but these walls and me. I got out the tub and ran to my room to air dry. I left my door locked and took a little nap.

(Gun shots)

I jumped up, out my sleep, heart just beating from my chest. the house is as hot as outside, so I'm sweating. All i can think about is, I hope it's not my mom...

I through on her clothes I borrowed and went to the front.

" uh uh... where the fuck you are going? and don't think I didn't hear you run that water long like that, you don't have a job bitch."

I froze when I heard her voice. yea, why not let you die in the street. even though my heart doesn't mean it. I turned around seeing she had company. " Hoe? is that my clothes?"

I looked down at what I had on. " You, you said.... you called me dirty earlier and I outgrown my clothes,"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM"

I walked away, her guest just watched everything, people don't have inputs or wear capes. Shes probably just mad that I walked in on her, with small lines laid out on the counter. lines she created with the ebt we never use. She uses it but not for our home, this isn't even a home. being here is just like living with grandma, but grandma, wants to put her hands on you. I used to have marks on my skin, but that's okay because when I cry Remember all the time, I hog spit in her drink. I hate her, and cps, they already showed me early, ratting gets you nowhere. it gets you hurt, beat, even killed.

A knock hit my door, I forgot I had it on lock.

"And you think, you fucking grown bitch, take my clothes off.", she bust in my door grabbing me by my hair. She pulled me to the floor and kicked me in my stomach." you want to go in my shit without permission? you think you grown?' she start to tag at her clothes, and you can hear the cotton rip, and tears just flow out my eyes. when she kicked my stomach, she unraveled her hands out of my hair.

she walked out with some of the fabric in her hands, what I had on was now all ripped up. I went to the mattress and pulled my phone from out my pillow. when I first got the phone, I cut the bottom of the pillow open so I can hide it from her. I wish I had Betsy number. I relocked the door and went to the closet for the bag to see if she left a number. I walked back to the mattress and sat down to see what's in the bag.

My phone showed 12:48.

When I opened the bag I seen a white rectangle, solid white, wrapped in siren wrap. And some money. I put everything back in the bag and just when things couldn't get worse, I can see blood drip down my leg.I got up and seen a nothing but red on my mattress. I have to give her this bag. The tissue I took from McDonald’s bathroom a day ago, I balled it up and stuck it in my kitty. It hurt so bad . The paper itself is to tuff ,maybe that’s a good thing because that was a lot . I wiped myself with the rest of the fabric that was on me, pull the window up and headed out the window.

I went the back way, and kept my head down, cops was outside down the block where the shots came from. So I went around another backyard and jumped the fence. The cops pull me for a chat and take this bag… life over for me. Ion really even have a life . I looked at my phone seeing 1:15.

Allot of girls, maybe like 13-19 was walking , they had sexy clothes on. Some looked younger than me, some looked grown like 37 or 40 years old. I didn’t see Besty anywhere. So I walked up and down the block, it’s now 1:30.

“What you doing here? U see that blood on your leg?”

The girl talking to me looked more like a man, a pretty man.

“ umm. I’m looking for Betsy she told me to meet her here.”

His eyes widen, “Betsy.thats my baby. She was worried as fuck earlier. Last she went at was the store. “

I shook my head and started walking away.

“ wait come here”, I followed him to the side of a building . “ you smell like fish. I’m not trying to be rude or anything , I have to clean my ass everyday, and not the slang clean my ass like my body but my ass hole. I got these wipes. Wipe ur leg up . “

I wipe my leg up with the wipes, and threw it on the ground. “ do u have a tampon?”

“Do I have a pussy? Maybe a dussy.” He said smiling.

“Thank you, “ I walked away from him heading to the store. Outside the store was empty and so was inside. I kept walking and heard someone screaming . I walked to the alley hoping it wasn’t Betsy. I walked up and seen two girls, one had a towel on her lip, you can see water dripping from the towel as if it wasn’t rung out. &

“Bitchhhh. It’s 30 mins after! Wtf”

I just stared at her , with water in my eyes .

“ give me the bag” ,she said reaching her palm out. “That’s you smelling like that?”

I nodded my head and started to walk off, but a car zoomed right in where we were. All black.

A black Lincoln pulled up slow and silent, engine purring like a predator. The driver's door creaked open, and out stepped Marcellus "Mulah" Jones, draped in a crimson coat that swept the backs of his snakeskin boots. Wide-brimmed SnapBack, gold rings stacked like trophies,—his silhouette screamed business, not pleasure.

chewing a toothpick with a half-smile

“You know I don’t like two things, ,” he said, his voice was smooth. “Waiting , and searching.”

His skin was smooth, dark like rich mahogany, and his beard was trimmed to a precise line that sharpened the cut of his square jaw. No gold teeth, a chain with a woman on it . Just presence . Control.

“Give me the bag.” I reached him the bag. He looked at me up and down , and then looked at Betsy and the other girl.

[lukyan-chan-blog]

DP x DC Prompt Your children will die young.

Bruce thinks he's cursed, actually he's not, although he might as well be. Biological half-brothers Danny, Damian and surprise, there are three more!

it's my first post, I never learned how to use this but the ideas don't come out of my head and there's no one to talk to about this so I'm sorry for spouting my delusions and English is not my native language (I don't follow the cannon, I don't know, I don't know what it is, I'm going to ignore it, it scares me but I did see DP although I don't think it counts for much, honestly)

Batman is spiraling after a powerful trio of siblings join the Justice League. They attract attention with their bright, exotic and painfully young (terribly powerful) appearance.

Since he has discovered that he is most likely the biological father. He doesn't know how to tell them this, or that maybe all three of them died from a curse he deliberately ignored for years. He wants to obtain DNA samples but since they are now ghosts it is not likely that they will leave DNA that he can take for paternity tests.

Do all three have the same biological mother? They are identical! (Maybe they could be clones?) Should I search and desecrate their graves? Will they notice? Were they even buried? Did anyone cry for them? Did they have a funeral? Were they cremated? Did an illness, an accident or a murder kill them? (How can I not ask all that? I need answers!)

Every time he and his family look at them, they can only cry inside and become distraught.

Your children are dead! He has to break this curse, apologize and bring them home! They are children, so young!

(When Flash asked how Phantom was the oldest of the three if Wraith appears fully grown with his height and large muscles, it ended in some tears from the speedster, causing much of the nearby team to become depressed)

Meanwhile the trio of ghosts:

Phantom (heavy fighter like Superman and Captain Marvel), Wraith (diplomat who spends time with the GL in space), and Shade (infiltration and caos) try to avoid Batman by pretending they don't know anything.

Then Bruce has his moment of crazy nights before leaving university, an "ex-girlfriend" - a woman he dated only twice becomes obsessed with him - Bruce obviously becomes gets rid of her easily

(we just went out for coffee and lunch, I didn't even know it was supposed to be a date.)

When Bruce rejects her, she swears that she comes from a line of witches and will curse him, if he doesn't marry her all his children will die. Bruce still checks it, but what he finds is just a story of three generations of eccentric women, so he ignores it and moves on with his life.

During another one night stand, his anonymous date gets pregnant and since she doesn't really remember much, she doesn't go looking for him either. This woman doesn't want to keep the baby and the doctor treating her actually needed a baby to pass as hers. Sheila takes this baby that she wants to tie Willis up with, but Willis already married Catherine. She leaves this baby "Jason Todd" with Willis as revenge.

Fast forward a few years later, Bruce has another crazy night with a couple.The Fentons have no problem having this baby and forget to call Bruce.

Years later Damian Wayne introduces himself as his only blood son, he becomes Robin.

Damián, now 17 years old, gets along well with a new heroine who is the youngest of a new trio that has joined the Justice League. The trio of siblings leave a bittersweet and painful feeling to the league because they are dead children.

Danny “Phantom”- 14 years old

Dante “Wraith” - 13 years old

Ellie “Shade”- 12 years old

One day they want to go to eat at this new restaurant in Gotham but although Robin can buy food with the suit they would attract a lot of attention with Shade giving off her supernatural glow, Ellie tells him that he can take a normal living human form and thus go out to eat. Once everything is agreed, on a nearby roof, Ellie returns to her human appearance and Damian realizes that they are terribly similar, very similar! He asks her if that's really what she looks like in life and she says yes

(Ellie doesn't really notice)

During the disturbing dinner on the roof, Damian asks him about his other two brothers.

"oh them? Wraith is actually my completely biological brother, our mother was really crazy and we ended up like this, you know? Phantom is our older half-brother, ever since he found out about our existence he has been tormenting our mother even more for what she did to us"

Damian is secretly going crazy but keeps asking.

"Phantom has been dead for longer, he doesn't usually change his living appearance much although sometimes he does, Wraith looks older just because he really felt very bad being so young and I don't have problems with how I look, although in reality I'm a little older than you"

(Ellie is actually lying a little for Danny's peace of mind, she sticks to her false story) Ellie even shows him a photo of her brothers looking alive. Damian is looking at a photo of three people who look a lot like his father, him, and for some reason Todd.

Damian returns to the mansion looking for old photos of Todd (because they look so similar too?!) and spiraling because the three new members could be his dead half-Siblings.

The batfamily finds out about Damian's conspiracy theory and panics. After some analysis they discover that Jason is in fact Bruce's biological son

(Jason feels cheated because Sheila was not his mother either and died in his attempt to meet/save her and because he has Bruce as his father)

Tim "actually they all died young, Shade at 12, Wraith 13, Phantom 14, Jason 15 and Damian died for a while at 16, that means that Bruce's next child has to die at 11 or 17"

Bruce…..

Tim "although if you think about it, most of us here also died at some point, only for a very short time unlike Jason and Damian"

Bruce, in a mental breakdown over his possible children and his dead children.

Phantom, who was floating invisible was about to ask Jason if he wanted to hang out, hears the conspiracy and runs to ask Jazz. (Jazz says yes, his parents had a threesome with some young millionaire they forgot to call and then lost his number)

Danny, who has been escaping for years from being adopted by Vlad, refuses to be adopted by another millionaire guy who also seems like a different kind of vampire.

(it's funny because Batman could pass for a vampire and Vlad also looks like a vampire, they both wear capes, they have a secret basement and they both want to adopt some boy with black hair and blue eyes)

From here on it's nonsense and a lot of misunderstandings because:

Danny and company don't want to be adopted or reveal themselves or explain the issue of clones or because Dan has a 13-year-old human body but is from another timeline.

The Batfamily wants to hunt down these kids to bring them home, find out if the apparent crazy mother is in prison for killing her two children, where is Phantom's mother? Was he also murdered? Because his casual comments about his parents seem to understand that this is the case.

Tim again notices the pattern that all the children have died for their "parents" or relatives.

Bruce has another nervous breakdown.

Dick cries for his poor dead brothers.

Jason blames all of this on Bruce and is still confused.

Damian doesn't know how to feel about not being the only blood child or that apparently he and Todd were lucky enough to get back.

Steph wonders if her dying minutes count her as Bruce's daughter.

Cass is sad ):

Duke doesn't know if he wants to stay in this family.

Alfred has had enough for this week

[applekeu]

TAILSPIN — part one

〔 𝒾 〕 "I'm sorry that I can't be her," you say, tears interlaced with every word. You circle back to her endlessly, the loop remaining unbroken. The dead girl's footfall is everywhere, and you're breaking with every step she takes across Caleb's heart. "I'll never be. We both know that, but don't expect me to be waiting around for you to realize I deserve more than a man who looks at me and only sees a ghost."

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱𝐢𝐚 𝓍 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐦𝐜!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 8805 (estimated 20k for full story) ⋮ 18+ ⋮ angst with a happy ending, smut, canon divergent as mc dies in the initial explosion and not caleb (he still gets injured thus requiring his biomech arm), coworkers au, rivals to lovers, fwb, miscommunication + jealousy, semi-toxic dynamics, mentions of ptsd and grief, dom!caleb, semi-public sex, size kink, manhandling, gagging (glove as a gag aye), multiple orgasms, marking, dirty talk, degradation kink, "sir" kink, spanking, edging, overstimulation, oral (f + m receiving), cum-eating, unprotected sex, creampie

⌗ 𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── First story on this blog! I decided to release this first part because I'm so excited to post the first chunk! I hope you guys enjoy it because it was a pleasure to write. Shoutout to @tinycatharsis @xylatox @aeristudios @frenchkisstheabyss and @xomakara for reading this first part as well as @hyukalyptus for doing editing magic on it, I love you all so much ♡

Caleb doesn't know what to do about the dog tag.

The present is years old by now, but it looks the same as it did when he received it. It's not rusted or faded, and there are no dings or scrapes to buff out. The care of its owner shows with every gleam and glisten of the necklace in the sunlight. He hasn't taken it off, not once. Not until a few days ago. Not until the clasp came undone from the impact.

The only sign of wear on the jewelry is the missing gemstone at the center of the silver apple that rests next to the dog tag. It's ironic in a sense, but Caleb can't fathom how.

His and her friends sniffle and hiccup with every inch of dirt that's laid out over the coffin. Caleb insists on doing this part of the service alone, no matter how long it takes. The act stains his suit pants through the process of covering each square foot, but he doesn't care if he looks unkempt or not. Most things don't matter now, anyway.

The funeral home director suggested Gran’s and the hunter’s services and burials be over the course of two days—yesterday and today. “You’ve already been through so much,” he whispered with an authoritarian sympathy only elders possessed. “Take this one day at a time.”

One day at a time is hellfire, a kind of agony one only understands when life crumbles around you at once. The gut-punch of losing his caretaker would've taken enough time to heal from on its own. But Caleb doesn't understand how to navigate this additional pain that pales in comparison to the previous set of wounds, still fresh as the day they were inflicted upon him. “How does a person recover from the devastation of watching the girl he loves die right in front of him?

The Deepspace Aviation Administration's mandated grief counselor recommended grounding techniques for wandering thoughts, especially ones related to the accident. "It wasn't an accident," Caleb interrupted him when he used that word. "Don't mince words."

"However you see the situation, Mr. Xia, focus on what is in your current nexus of control when your mind spirals."

Following the doctor's orders, he takes a deep breath and tries to feel the ground underneath his feet. All the while, he clutches the dog tag around his neck tightly as the ceremony concludes.

She gave it to Caleb the day he left for Skyhaven. He promised her, foolishly, he’d return to their childhood home as often as possible. Time constraints of their everyday lives that kept them apart could not sever their bond; Caleb wouldn't let it. She might’ve been a hunter, and he a pilot, but their constant course was always back to each other, no matter how briefly those lines converged.

If only he knew their time together would run so short, too short for him to finally pluck up the courage to say he couldn't live without her. And now he has to make peace with the fact that that lost declaration is his new reality.

Without thinking, Caleb lets the metal dog tag pierce his skin. The necklace slices the inside of his palm open slowly. It takes ten minutes and the crowd around Caleb dissipating for him to notice blood running down his shirtsleeve. The loneliness gives way to an indifference that shields him from physical consequences. All he senses is the thrum of his heartbeat as the wind meets his open wound.

If nothing else, the hollowness will remind him it was real and he was once whole. That's what will keep him from spiraling ever again. From expecting the world to be kind to him now that his soul is irrevocably destroyed.

2 YEARS LATER

"And this is the loading bay for each squadron and their respective aircrafts. Yours will be around two dozen, and you'll meet your subordinates later on today once we establish your security clearances." Damien, your new boss and one of the many majors of the fleet continues with the tour of the base. His harping about the procedures and commandments is background noise as you navigate the space together. You're aware of what you can and cannot do as a Farspace Fleet member, even more so now with your new rank.

It's not as if lower-leveled privates don’t know their way around. You've been to the loading bay many times, taking the route to and from excruciating missions in the past year like clockwork. You could label each piece of a plane's equipment and list their purposes by heart if given the opportunity.

With your recently appointed title as First Lieutenant, you are well aware things will change. Subtly, for sure, but just enough to tilt you off your axis, hence the necessity of such a tour. "We need to show you what it means to be a part of the company with a fresh lens, so to speak," Damien had said curtly during the first hour of the tour, like you were a child on her first day of preschool. Maybe it was more for them than you, seeing as you already felt the shift in your previous colleagues' demeanor. Some of them were happy to see you move up in the world, while others sneered from the sidelines.

It didn't matter to you, regardless. Ty, your best friend and a newly appointed Second Lieutenant, is the only person you need beside you to face the career change. And she's even more elated than you are. It's been three days, but she's remained star-struck, especially by the glamour of her new badge and uniform.

"I can't believe this is actually happening," she repeats for the third time in two hours. "Wonder when we'll get to see our new guns."

"Seventy-two hours and you're already chomping at the bit for target practice," you comment with a smile. She's still playing with the golden stars on her coat as she walks, and you nudge her in the shoulder to remind her to stop.

"Don't pretend you're not antsy either. If the rumors are true and they have our names engraved in them, you're gonna shit yourself," she says with a wink.

"Fleet personnel are forbidden from tampering with company equipment, especially for cosmetic purposes,” Damien interrupts with his objective voice. “It's sanction number twelve if you need more clarification on the matter.” There's no admonishment in his tone, but no humor either. You and Ty look at each other, biting your lips to keep the laughter from escaping.

Damien proceeds with his lecture until everyone is at one side of the bay. Masses of opaque grey clouds melt into the surrounding concrete and you could almost forget you’re at work. The city without-a-doubt lives up to its name—the sky is your haven in every sense of the word. 

You always dreamed of flying away one day and it seems possible now more than ever.

That is until a masculine hand yanks you from the edge of the runway, the strength of his forceful fingers burning your right bicep. "Watch it!" a voice you've never heard before cuts through the air, domineering and deafening.

Within seconds, your face is inches away from Caleb Xia. The colonel’s violet eyes sear through your own while his shoulder-length hair blows in the breeze, letting the edges of his wolf-cut glint in the sunlight. 

The only information you gleaned on the colonel came from company paperwork and sultry whispers of nurses and comrades. Never expecting to see him in person, you took all the gossip as myths at worst and warnings at best.

Now, you see why the rumor mill spins with his name on each spoke.

"Did you forget this base is almost five thousand feet above Linkon? You could kill yourself if you're not careful." His voice is threateningly calm. On-lookers would say his demeanor is on the cusp of normal if it weren't for the intensity of his gaze, the heaving of his chest, and the tightness of his fingers around your upper arm. His grip loosens, but his stare remains staunch.

You gulp and respond in haste to avoid furthering your newfound embarrassment. "Apologies, Colonel."

Though his grasp releases, his gaze lingers across your face and you wonder what assumptions he's making in his mind. Have you already stunted your career growth before it's had the chance to bloom, like a seed plucked too quickly from the soil?

"Are these the new lieutenants for Squadron Eight, Damien?" Caleb says the words without looking at the major. His words come with an aura of mystified disdain, and your jaw clenches. Initially, you were nervous in his presence, but now you feel talked down to and rightfully agitated. One mistake during a first impression did not dictate your entire worth to the fleet. Ty sees your eyes beginning to blaze, and she pleads with her own for you to calm down.

You grind your teeth together to keep a response from leaving your mouth, but the second the next words come off of his tongue, it's over. "Looks like this one has to remember the boundaries of her bearings."

"Nobody asked you to remind me of my faculties, Colonel Xia. I'm more than capable of that responsibility."

Suggested edit: Preparing for Caleb’s harsher words—or even another death grip on another one of your limbs—he chuckles instead. The edges of it sting your pride once again. He beckons your group of three to walk alongside him. Only then do you realize his second-in-command, Gideon, is standing by and waiting for the colonel to finish his impromptu business.

Clearly, Caleb has other plans.

You remain close to Caleb's side as the other three in your party stay a distance behind, all of them clearly intimidated by the man at your left. You walk for a while before stopping a few meters away from a set of aircrafts parked on the opposite runway. They're painted with the classic fleet colors of gray, black, and red, along with their squadron numbers marked in white text on one side.

After clearing his throat, Caleb smirks. "If you're so aware of things, you must know the fleet wouldn’t exist without the power of our arsenal." He turns to face you head on again, expression hardening with a smile so bright it stuns you. "So, First Lieutenant, what was the original—"

Too easy.

"The C-5M Super Galaxy was the prototype for the fleet's F35s. Taken from the American Airforce until its dissolution in 3012, the bones of that plane are in use today across all our operations through the Deepspace Tunnel and beyond," you finish Caleb's eventual question seamlessly. 

But you refuse to look at him directly and instead train your gaze on the faraway planes, tracing the slopes and curves of their structures in a loop. "The only alteration the fleet made to the C-5M," you continue, "was lighter aerodynamic design so squadrons and cargo could move across the space-time continuum more efficiently."

You can't contain your smug smile or how wide it spreads before you turn to meet Caleb's eyes once again. "And that's just for our carrier crafts. Do you want the origins of our reconnaissance and bomber planes too, Colonel?"

In a move you don't expect, Caleb's expression softens. An emotion lurks beneath his irises; it refuses to let the smile meet his eyes. He still steps forward again to shake your hand, his touch much gentler than before. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. You may actually survive moving up the ranks."

Silently, Caleb motions for Gideon to make their exit. Damien stutters out a comment on needing to speak to the colonel further about a different matter, leaving you and Ty alone to reflect on whatever that intrusion was. Caleb doesn't look back once, but you sense the longevity of his purple eyes lingering over your form. The ghost of his presence still pierces past your muscles and buries deep into your bones, even as he continues further down the strip of pavement toward the fleet's headquarters.

"So, he seems like a peach," Ty comments first before a breathless laugh spills from her lips. "He is very attractive, though."

He's definitely something, you think to yourself. You're just unsure of what that something is.

"Firearm accuracy estimated as follows: ninety-four percent. Firing distance could be a factor in the remaining six percent deficit. Please practice again for an updated calculation."

The Shotbot's cheerful voice threatens you, or at least you think so. It wants you to throw its spherical body across the room with the way it taunts you. Back when you were too green, you might have. But you have to be better than that, calmer than you used to be. Quality results for a lieutenant don't come in haste, and definitely not with heightened emotions.

"Will do, bitch," you mutter, breathless from the exertive exercise. You kick a few spent shell casings on the training floor as you walk back to the practice bench, your hammering heart in tow. You place new bullets in the magazine, one at a time with quiet precision until it feels hefty in your palm again. The gun's weight lowers your frantic heartbeat, your rushing pulse steadying to an even tempo.

When chaos is all you’ve known, you make peace with storms and weather through until they’re over. Weapons make weathering those storms easier.

A deep chuckle comes from one edge of the training space, and you recognize it like a windchime above your front door despite only hearing it a few times. It holds curiosity with a sharp gleam. Its sound cuts through you like a knife as its owner waits to see if it's worth striking what's on the other end of the blade.

"Ninety-four. Is that your personal best?"

You laugh, but it's too airy to hold any emotion. It's more for theatrics than anything else. Your gun clanks sharply on the bench when you set it down.

You turn to see Caleb staring you down smugly in his tank top and sweatpants, training clothes immaculate in comparison to your crew shirt and spandex shorts drenched in sweat. You don't let his appearance faze you, though. You keep your spine straight and your face steadfast as you reply. "What's yours, Colonel?"

Caleb tsks, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I asked you first, bluebird." Seeing the surprise in your eyes, a laugh erupts from him again. "Don't freak out. It wasn't that hard to find your old code name."

"You were investigating me?"

He contemplates his next words with a pout. "Think of it as gainin' intel. It's a small part of my job description to oversee the new fish in our big pond. Especially one so close to drowning the other day."

You roll your eyes, leaning back behind you to grab your pistol. "I think we established that I can handle myself just fine."

"Prove it."

You quirk an eyebrow. "You want more oral history on the fleet? You could've just said so."

Caleb's smirk sits in contrast with the tick of his jaw. A million emotions flash across his face, but it's indecipherable past the two tells he's shown. He raises a hand, and your gun shoots out from your palm. It whips through the air until it lands in his own. "Hand-to-hand combat. I'm curious to see if your accuracy is better in this facet of battle strategy."

Damn him and his gravity evol.

Many comrades of yours who fought with him on the frontlines commented on his physical manipulation of guns, melee weapons, and even body parts that left them stunned. He clearly knows how to use it to his advantage, particularly in times like this to humor himself.

"Will you be using that trick of yours when we fight?"

He shakes his head, crossing his heart with the hand not holding your weapon. "Promise," he responds, but you don't trust it. Not until you see him in action.

Caleb can't figure it out.

He's dodged most of your combos, your left fist considerably weaker than your right. Has to be her stronger hand, he thought when he cleared another punch aimed for his jaw. He even landed a small jab to your ribs after one too many exertions left you open in a reckless move.

Yet you're still standing.

You remain stubbornly active in the fight all the same, throwing more hits out and blocking where you can like you haven't exhausted enough energy already. Caleb has to respect the moxie you possess. It's admirable for any soldier to continue on in the presence of an opponent who outnumbers them in a multitude of ways.

You won't win; he knows this. But the hope in your eyes—coupled with the thought that you still believe you can—confuses Caleb further.

He likes your eagerness to find his weak spot in the fight, the vulnerable point that will give you the upper hand. It begs the question of what he still has yet to learn and admire about you. This then leaves him in a stalemate with his original set of unanswerable questions: Who are you? What is it about you that's pulling me in? Why do you remind me of someone I don't want to remember?

Caleb's questions turn into frustration as the fight carries on. He regrets starting this at all. He wishes now you would concede and admit defeat, throw down your arms and stop stirring up the contents of his heart that have sat comfortably untouched for so long.

He could finish this dance and let all of it go, accepting the fact his curiosity will peak here with no definite resolution to his inquiries.

Still—

"Damnit, just quit already," Caleb barks. He hits and blocks faster in an attempt to drain what's left of your stamina.

You laugh, the sound deflated from your fatigue but still possessing a spark of challenge. "That'd be too easy."

Caleb doesn't recognize he's pinned you down to the floor with both his body and gravity evol until he feels the rubber of the floor mats against his calloused fingertips. You gasp in surprise when you fight to get up with no success, his evol keeping you supine. Your reaction spurs more of his irritation to the surface, the emotion rising faster than he's prepared for.

"You have no self preservation, do you?" he asks with bite. His body is equal parts taut and tense above you. Both arms rest on either side of your face as he tries regaining his composure. His chest bumps yours with every respective inhale and exhale you both take.

You smirk up at him. "Just enough, Colonel."

A metal bard pricks Caleb’s side, thankfully not yet piercing his skin. With each inch pressing harder into his skin, it cuts through his tank and the threat of it puncturing his skin is unnerving. But you don’t let it, not when you’re the one controlling it.

Caleb may not know much about you, but he estimates you won't go so far as to kill him during the first week on the job. At least, he doesn't think you will.

He huffs a breath of surprise, his interest spiked more than before. "Your file never said anything about an evol."

A corner of your mouth quirks up, and his breath catches. "Nobody ever asked."

He feels like a teenager again, caught sneaking out by his Gran or flunking a big exam. To name the ticking in his chest feels impossible. The time bomb is indecipherable, one Caleb doesn't know the wiring for.

"Ninety-seven."

Your eyebrows quirk, the skin between them folding. Caleb commits the expression to his memory without meaning to. It's too cute, somehow. "What?"

"My accuracy. It's ninety-seven," he whispers. His lips are a few feet away from yours that are molded into a small grin. Both of your sweat-covered faces sit a handful of breaths apart.

It's unprofessional, his behavior. From using his company clearance to dig into your file to training with you like this, he sees every misstep he's taken to get to this point and recognizes what an idiot he is. He should pull away quickly before he moves any closer, and he knows he will.

But an unnameable force tugs him down, holds him there in the moment for a little bit longer. He's helpless; the damn weighted bomb in his chest won't let him escape.

You look around the room in a clear display of nerves, unsure how to continue. "I need to get back to the armory. Ty will be looking for me."

Caleb nods like he's ready to let you go. His own survival skills kick in, telling him to sit up and step away from you. "I'd say," he starts while recollecting himself, "your evol would be incredibly useful in battle. I'll update your file to reflect this fact and consider your potential for upcoming missions."

You rub your sore arms and wrists as you acknowledge his words. "Noted, Colonel. Thank you."

He clears his throat suddenly, hiding the blush of his cheeks behind his fist. "Caleb is fine, Lieutenant. I think we've skipped the need for titles when we're in situations like this."

"And what situations are those?" you jest.

Caleb chuckles. You ride the ebb and flow of his emotions like a wave, your banter a match for his without much effort. He likes that, too, maybe a little too much. "When we're alone, I guess."

You giggle too, so softly he thinks he imagines the sound. You stand up from the floor with weak limbs, but you manage to extend a hand to him in agreement. "Also noted, Caleb."

Caleb may not understand it or you just yet, but once he does, he'll be able to put it to bed for good without issue. Only then will he feel less tepid, less like something inside of him has just cracked.

Caleb wasn't kidding when he said he would consider you for future missions because of your evol. It was only a month into your new position when your squadron became a staple of the fleet's recent set of cleanup jobs and intergalactic conquests. You liked to assume it was by your own merits and not due to the glowing recommendation Caleb passed to his higher-ups, but you knew better.

Slowly, you proved you were capable of more than even Caleb anticipated. Despite your efforts, it didn't stop conspiratory eyes passing over you when you and the colonel were in the same vicinity. He sure gets close whenever she's around, don't you think?

The murmurs of your comrades couldn't keep you from doing your job, though. It may have chipped at your patience day after day, but you could only show so much of your crumbling resolve. You initially believed the fleet was all about space travel and battlefields. Now, you realize it's a tightrope of commands and surface-level courtesy, a constant rotating door of fighting and pony-showing.

The return to Skyhaven for a few days is necessary, to say the least.

Exhausted and drained, you slept in until noon the first day you arrived home and ate takeout alone for the first time in months. You could do as you see fit, with nobody to answer to or have under your wing. Your apartment is as messy as you left it, but you prefer it that way. 

And now, walking through the city via the intricate skyway bridge, your battery recharges with every step. Almost thirty hours ago on the aircraft you called your second home, you were on the verge of fraying from the ever-present spotlight. Now, you can be a silent spectator without a title or set of responsibilities. It may be for only a few more days, but it's enough.

As you watch the cotton-candy clouds adorning the dusk sky, your mind wanders around the same unrelated subject. What’s Caleb doing now? Is he enjoying time off? Did he opt out of a home visit? Is he still working?

Maybe you shouldn't be thinking of your boss's boss in this manner, but you have to assume it's normal given how much time you spend together. Besides, neither him nor anyone of importance is around to tease you, so what does it matter?

"Galileo, wait!"

The second before you’re given the chance to shout, a gargantuan German shepherd tackles you, forcing your back to the ground with her forepaws. The pup, apparently named Galileo, brushes her brown and black fur against your cheeks, sniffing and licking your face as you sit up by your elbows. Why she opted for kisses as a greeting to a random stranger instead of a bite, you don’t know. 

But you recognize the owner in question like the back of your hand. He runs up to the both of you, his eyes blazing with horror. "Shit—Gal, come here!"

At Caleb’s command, Galilea jumps off your lap, circles around him, and sits perfectly in front of him with a pleased expression. Her tails wags as she awaits Caleb’s behind-the-ear scratches. Clearly, she loves him, letting you finally release the chuckle caught in your throat from meeting her. 

Caleb joins in on your laughter with his own. This time, it's not accompanied by the cockiness or calculation you're used to. It's carefree, light but stuffed with pleasant surprise.

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. "Is this how you charm women? Stick your dog on them?"

He extends a hand out to you, chest still rumbling with humor. "Only the pretty ones. Can't help Gal for knowing the difference."

You're about to bite back with a snarky comment—Oh, so you think I'm pretty, Colonel Xia?—until you flinch.

You feel the burn from your palm coming into contact with his, realizing your skin is covered in scrapes from the fall. What felt like nothing from the fall now feels like the sting of a thousand papercuts.

"Damn," he exclaims. "You need to disinfect those now." He helps you up by the elbow rather than the hand, so gently you think he's mistaking you for a feather instead of a full-sized adult. His gaze lands on the towering apartments at the bottom of the bend. "We need to get you back so you can get cleaned up."

"Yeah, I have a first-aid kit in—" A sudden realization cuts your sentence short. "Caleb. Did you look up where I live in your intel-gathering mission?"

Caleb smirks. "Gotta be thorough, right?" He releases you to tug on Galileo's leash, signaling for her to start walking again. As you both follow suit, Caleb says, "Besides, you can't be upset at me. That's no way to treat your neighbor."

Some time after the two of you make it to Caleb’s door and you stand by as he rifles through his cabinets, he appears from the bathroom with bandages and ointment in his hands, his steps quick and deliberate. "This won't take long."

You giggle to yourself, stifling the laughter with the back of your hand. When a crease forms in his brow, you say, "Why do I get the feeling you've said that line before?"

Caleb chuckles and brushes you on his way past you, patting the spot next to him on the couch once he sits down. "Careful, Y/N. I don't think it's wise of you to make assumptions."

Caleb's apartment in the building opposite of yours is immaculate, not a speck of dust or any embarrassingly opaque stains in sight. He expects absolute precision when you're on the base, so it shouldn't be a shock he's as regimented in his everyday life.

Galileo settles near Caleb's feet as he inspects the wounds on your hands. "They're really shallow. Shouldn't need more than a few days of bandaids and antibiotic cream."

You huff a breath. "Didn't think you could pass yourself off as a doctor, too."

He rolls his eyes playfully. "I know a guy, who actually is a doctor. Taught me a few tricks before I joined the fleet."

You hiss when the first splash of ointment coats your cuts. The pain ebbs once Caleb rubs the cream in, the numbing agent working quickly. "Better?" he asks.

"Much. Thank you."

He hums, pleased by your gratitude. He takes a bandage and begins unwrapping it, careful not to tear the plaster. Your eyes flit across his living room as he works on your hands. Many see him as an enigma, an uncrackable puzzle. But sitting between his legs as he mends the cuts still spotting with blood, you realize there's two men in Caleb Xia that only few people get the opportunity to witness.

This fear-inducing colonel, someone who you initially found to be far too patronizing, is one half of him. He takes no prisoners, does not ask before he does, and seems to chill every man below him to the bone. Yet, this part, the Caleb that is often hidden from public view, intrigues you to no end.

He has few friends yet clearly dotes on his dog, many chew toys on the floor the only form of disarray in his space. He plays his role in the sky with domination and smugness, yet has shown intense care for you that goes well beyond normal boundaries. And, funnily enough, he seems to be incredibly efficient at assembling airplane models, many plastic aircrafts lining his bookshelves.

You don't know this Caleb like you do the colonel, and yet it feels like you could figure out what makes this version tick easily if given more time. And you want to discover those ticks, so much it rattles you. Maybe it's because some part of you recognizes his framework, his ease with being comfortable alone. Or maybe it's because he gives you the same inquisitive stares you're starting to throw his way.

Is he as curious to understand you, too?

"Wanna share your thoughts with the class?" Caleb asks with a close-mouthed grin. A dimple pops out from his cheek, one you didn't notice before.

"What made you want to join the fleet?"

Caleb laughs, but it's entirely artificial. It's too measured, more careful than careless. You can tell the difference by now. "I thought I would find answers to this thing that happened to me a long time ago. And once I realized I wouldn't, that it was a dead end that didn't really have a resolution, it was too late to turn back. Now, I like the shiny attire and equipment."

You giggle at the tail-end of his answer. "Is that why you climbed up the ranks so quickly? Because you were on a search for something that mattered to you?"

"That, and I'm devastatingly handsome. Who wouldn't want to see me in a colonel's uniform?"

The smile on your lips doesn't wane, but the remainder of his answer comes back to the forefront of your mind. His need to repair what broke him a long time ago flicks at one of your subconscious nerves viciously, although you don't show it on your face. He senses it though, looking up at you with those violet eyes brimming with curiosity. You know he wants to know how you would answer without him having to repeat your question back to you.

"I wanted to belong," you confess. "I've always been very out of place, no matter how hard I tried to fit in. At school, at the foster home…" You trail off, immediately regretting sharing such a private part of your life. Caleb may be friendly, but is he truly a friend, someone more akin to Ty than Damien or Gideon? "The fleet's always given me structure, a purpose to fulfill, friends that understand what it's like to struggle and succeed together. Ty used to think it was crazy to like being on the brink of death all the time, but—it's better than being alive and alone."

You hoped Caleb wouldn't laugh at you or craft a funny comment in response to your honesty, but you're more than relieved to find your hope in him wasn't misplaced. All he does is nod and continue fixing up your hand, a solemn expression dressing his face. "I didn't grow up in a traditional home, either. I had a caretaker and…a sibling, but…" The muscles in his face tighten, his jaw bone practically protruding from the skin. He has to be biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from going completely over the edge. You've never seen him like this, skating past his usual composure to leave himself incredibly open.

You shake your head at him, unable to see him torture himself further. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I thought since you told me the truth, it's only right to do the same."

The smile Caleb gives you in response upends all the contents of your stomach, stuff that has to be the makings of both butterflies and livewires. As he takes your bandaged hand in his, his breathing regulates itself as your skin touches. He rubs the outer edges of your palm with his thumb, and your previous regret eases a little. It makes you believe the needle is moving closer to friendship, to being safe in your vulnerability. Maybe even something more. You've never been good at emotions or letting them fly freely, but with him, you want to be.

And that makes a piece of you shift back into a place, a piece you believed was buried way before you could give it a home.

An hour into the gala, Caleb's ready to go home.

The liquor tastes too cheap for him to be drinking on purpose. The rooftop venue overlooking the entirety of Skyhaven isn't anything special, sans the twinkling lights surrounding the bar and dance area. And Caleb's schmoozed more than half of the current partygoers a million times before this event, so there's nobody worth impressing tonight.

Worse yet, the person Caleb wants to put his effort into talking to hasn't shown up, and most likely won't.

"Parties aren't my thing," you told him a few days ago on the aircraft, taking you both home for another mandated break. "Besides, it's for some brigadier general's retirement right? Nobody will notice me missing."

Caleb does, though—so much so that your absence twists in his gut.  In every search he's done across the sea of faces for your daring eyes and smart mouth, he grows more restless. Does that not matter to you by now?

"Smell this," Gideon interrupts Caleb's thoughts with a drink an inch from his face. The younger guy practically dumps all the liquid onto his boss's jacket in the process of…whatever he's doing.

Caleb sets his whiskey sour down on a nearby glass table. "Man, kiss my ass."

"Seriously! That battlefield medic Anya gave it to me, and I can't tell if it's laced with a love drug or something."

Caleb sniffs the rim lightly. Nothing out of the ordinary to report, but it's cute how inept his subordinate is to this stuff. "Smells like a classic strawberry margarita to me."

Gideon huffs. "You say it like I shouldn't be concerned."

"Because you shouldn't be. Be grateful someone's interested in buying you a drink in the first place."

"Says the guy who hasn't gotten any since his DAA days," Gideon spits back before taking a sip of his margarita.

Caleb has the next barb on his tongue, prepared to strike Gideon like a viper eager for an easy kill, but it disintegrates. He can't be bothered with a comeback now, not as he loses all sense of gravity seeing you walk through the double doors like a vision.

Your dress, bordering between modest and suggestive, is the richest red Caleb’s ever seen. Like a ripe apple ready to be plucked from a tree. The silk hugs your curves while the drop sleeves show off your shoulders and neckline—a mouthwatering view. 

Caleb shouldn't look at you like a dog with a bone dangling in the air in wait, but he doesn’t remember why. Even if he did, would it matter? He’ll gravitate back regardless, the instinct to admire you like second nature. It’s easy, letting you to steal every coherent thought from his grasp. All that matters right now is you and the garment that's inducing his lust-filled eyes and dry mouth that begs for some form of relief.

No— not just any relief. Caleb knows this, knows the name of the remedy he seeks. But he doesn't know if it's worth it to cross that line, lay himself bare for you when he's been burned before.

Then again, he was burned for not risking anything back then. Perhaps he should do the opposite this time.

Just as he's about to greet you, he sees an underling that he knows too well creeping over to steal the honor first.

Caleb's body has to be on fire from the way the sight in front of him eats at his flesh. Jace Lee, a major above your rank but leagues away from Caleb, pulls grins and giggles from you like a charlatan with a cheap magic trick. And you feed into his ploys, entertaining a man that isn't Caleb with no hesitancy.

He wants to scream, kiss the idiot's jaw with his fist, and pull you away from this place without a second thought. The feelings that bubble to the surface are almost foreign. He hasn't felt this way since…well…

He downs his whiskey in a few sips before excusing himself from Gideon's side. He saunters to you and Jace, and he sees your demeanor change. It's a lot clearer now, the curtain lifting with every step. Jace is a courtesy, a polite conversation you have to entertain. But when you see Caleb coming over, your amiable smile becomes one of challenge and eagerness just for him.

It can't be in his head what he's witnessing change before him. "Jace, pleasure to see you. Apologies for missing you before." Jace eagerly takes the higher-ups hand. Caleb lets the idea of clenching down with a vice-grip level of strength pass across his brain. He can't be an asshole right now, not when you're this close.

Caleb then takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, his own action creating an electric tingle in his spine. "You clean up exceptionally well."

Trying to hide the new color on your cheeks is of no use, but he finds you captivating all the same. "Thank you, Colonel. Actually, Jace and I were talking about a new carrier mission planned for next month. Can I find you later?”

As if you needed to ask.

Caleb retracts his hand and nods all the same. His heart rests in his mouth as he walks away to leave you to your conversation. It remains there, heavy and pulsing, when he walks to the bar to order a glass of vodka. 

Caleb shouldn’t feel jealous right now. He thought his jealousy ended with the thoughts he had long ago about MC, his heart a tangle of emotions he had no words to justify unraveling back then. Now, you’re the cause for his undoing, and he’s unsure how to reconcile the war in his heart.

He orders another drink with a shot of tequila. The alcohol burns as it slides down his throat, but it doesn’t matter to him. He’ll drink anything if it helps to take the sting away from his racing thoughts and unkempt feelings.

Caleb stirs in his bed with the urge to rise quickly and find you. He’s unsure how he’ll get up with a dull ache in his skull from all the drinks he consumed, but all he knows is that he can't take it anymore—the unsaid words, the tension in every sinew that he’s composed of, the way he yearns for you.

In the haze of liquor, he remembers your arms wrapped around him on your way into his apartment, body hefty but his thoughts heavier as he came through the door.

“You looked really pretty tonight. I forgot to say so. I mean—You always look beautiful, but this dress is…” He ran his fingers over the material, each passing of his hands against the silk torturous.

“Thank you, Colonel.” Your giggle caused a deep knot in his chest.

 “I wanted to kiss you the second you walked into the bar,” he confessed, bashful despite the boldness of his words. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, actually.”

Your body tensed as you dropped him on the bed, but you still ran your fingers through his hair, admiring each gold-spun strand like a treasure.

“Sleep it off, Caleb.” You looked at him so gently; it drove him crazy to not press his lips to yours then and there. “Tell me all of this when your head's clear in the morning.”

Nothing could have kept him from remembering every word and action. He’d say it all again on a loop if you wanted him to. He tossed and turned in his bed two hours after that, willing the fog of alcohol to clear from his brain. If he waited and saw it pass, then he could do what he's wanted to this entire frustratingly slow night. 

He definitely can’t wait until morning. That's not possible.

Now, with a semi-sober head and a chest overflowing with desire, right now, he needs to know for sure what you want before he goes any crazier.

He tiptoes into the living room on bare feet, trying to stay quiet but still focused on his mission. His heart clenches seeing you belly-down on his couch, snoring lightly with no blanket or pillow to provide you comfort.

The guilt creeps down his body for leaving you in this state while he was buzzed, but relief runs straight past it once he realizes you didn't leave for a reason.

You wanted to stay; he can't imagine the pain he would've felt if you hadn't.

He sits on the ottoman nearby and runs his fingertips over your cheek, his feelings firm on his palate yet partially stuck in his throat. Saying the words came so easily with liquid courage, yet repeating them is like walking through quicksand.

"Wake up, bluebird," he whispers. The only other sounds outside of his voice are your gurgles and whines from being pulled from your dream.

The minute your eyes open, a hazy smile creeps past your teeth. He feels his heart ease and jackhammer in the same second.

You rise from your spot with a yawn. "How are you—"

Caleb doesn't give you a chance to continue your question. He presses both hands to either side of your neck and acts rather than thinks, slamming his lips down onto yours.

The moan that slips past his mouth when he presses his tongue to the roof of yours is instinctual; it's too good to keep quiet about. He presses you into the cushions behind your head as he kisses you deeper and longer without reservation. Maybe the key to the courage he needs is savoring every bit of you he can before releasing it all verbally.

When you part, a string of saliva connects your mouths together, and he almost groans again at the sight. He wants to go back to kissing you breathless and forgetting the rest of the world around you both exists, but he needs to say the words again so you know he means it.

“You told me to tell you this when I had a clearer head," he whispers. "And I think it’s more than clear now.”

One breath to focus on the present moment. Another to quiet the fear. And one more for good measure.

"I want you. I've wanted you for weeks, and I can't stop myself. So don't ask me to…unless it's not what you want." A piece of his heart withers at the thought that your first kiss could also be your last, but he continues on. "I'll do my best to walk away and we can stay friends, but if you feel the way I do, let me give you all of me. Because it's killing me not to."

By the end, he isn't sure if he's breathing. With the quiet contemplation on your face, he's questioning if you're breathing as well. Dying on that couch in front of you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks, forever eager to know the thoughts swimming in your mind. If he has to go out that way, so be it.

Then, one side of your mouth quirks up, and he thinks he might see another day of existence. "Show me how much you want me."

Your words are his wreckage and his freedom.

In a flash, your dress is draped over the ottoman like it’s worthless. Caleb's an inspector by nature, a pilot who looks on all sides before committing to a course of action. He has to admire each line of your body with a kiss. Take his time with each pass or squeeze of his hand on your skin.

He pays great attention to your chest specifically, kneading one breast as he keeps the opposite one's nipple in his mouth. Sucking, biting, tugging. He's not innocent, and you should've known the second you met him. But it's another thing to experience the sin he's eagerly providing, and he doesn't mind teaching you every lesson he has to offer.

You're incoherent by the time his hands rest on your hips, mumbling and moaning in a language he gathers isn't English. He's itching to take your panties off, but is too enraptured by the wetness that's soaking through the fabric to do so.

"You're drenched, sweetheart." Caleb kisses the damp spot on your underwear, your puffy clit thrumming from the sensation of his lips, even through the cotton barrier. "This all for me?"

You nod like it's all you know how to do, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "Only for you."

He chuckles darkly and pulls the panties to the side. His tongue licks a fat stripe across your folds, taking its sweet time on the trail up to your clit. A wanton sigh escapes your lips from the sensation. 

Another laugh escapes him from your eagerness to meet his lips with your center. “You’ve never felt this way before, have you, sweetheart?” he asks between more licks and slurps. “Nobody’s ever touched your pussy like this?”

“Shut up,” you respond breathlessly. He continues on, lost in lust and admiration for your body. Why did it take so long to get to this point?

"You like it, beautiful?" Caleb asks rhetorically, knowing the answer in the way you raise your hips to meet his face. "Do you like how my tongue feels?"

"Yes, yes—oh fuck—yes." It must be hard to form logical sentences once he slips a finger through your wetness. He sets a pace meant to scissor you open thoroughly. What will it be like when his cock is inside of you? It makes him ache between his lungs thinking about it.

His mouth wraps around your clit as your walls clench around his digit, eager to keep it inside when he retracts. "You’re sucking me in so well." Caleb admires the view, his hand exiting and entering you like it's where it's always meant to be. "Maybe I'll keep you like this forever. Never let you leave and fuck you stupid every second of the day." Another drag of his tongue against your clit, and your breath hitches. "Do you want that beautiful? Want to be here with me?"

"Of course, please," you plead. "Oh god, please let me be yours, Caleb. Will you let me?" Most girls confessing such a thing would blush something scalding, but you don't care an inch or a mile. You just want him to let you fall apart, and he senses it.

The urge to whine threatens your lips as he pulls himself off you, but it dies when he yanks his suit pants and underwear down in one swoop. Pre-cum coats the tip of his cock, the skin of his length red and throbbing. He's ravenous by now, his patience up to this point kept him at bay to prepare you for what's been coming. What he's been so eager for the second he pinned you down in that training room.

"I want to feel you around me when you come," he whispers before taking another kiss like a thief in the night. You curse at the taste on his tongue and he hums, pleased in knowing it’s your own arousal. 

Tapping the head of his cock against your clit, he coats it in your arousal like he’s dipping a finger into a pot of honey.

When it presses against your gummy walls, Caleb almost comes right there. He doesn't know how he's survived up to this point without knowing how you feel. If this was what was waiting for him all this time, he's a fucking idiot for denying himself. His hip bones press to yours when he's fully inside, sheathed completely despite the tightness encasing his cock.

He wants to move, but he's too busy staring into your twinkling eyes  already glazed over from pleasure. Thinking back to your earlier question makes him pulse against your heat. 

Will you let me?

He needs to give you the answer before he loses himself in you again. "You never had to ask, beautiful. We've belonged to each other for a long time now." He swallows your resounding cry with his mouth as he thrusts his hips.

It's heavenly, better than any plane ride he's ever taken, the funniest jokes he's ever heard, and all the desserts on the planet combined. It's just the two of you, your bodies glistening in the moonlight and his soul being wrapped up in you like he's wanted it to be since the start.

If this is what it's like to fall, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to hit the ground when it's all over.

He moves at a faster speed, thrusting in and out of you with a precision that is just as sharp as his marksmanship. You bite down on his neck to stop from screaming out in pleasure, and Caleb laughs like he's still drunk. He likes his skin between your teeth more than he imagined.

"That's it, sweetheart," he says between two brutal thrusts. "I want all of it."

All of it you gladly give. Running your nails along his back, you mar the skin there in your quest towards your high. You thrust up and into him with your own hips, and Caleb almost loses it then. You're too good at this, too perfect for even his fantasies. "God, sweetheart, I'm gonna come if you keep it up."

"Do it," you murmur. "Fill me up, Caleb. Give me all of it so I never go without you again."

That does him in, like Icarus flying too close to the sun. He falls without protest or trepidation. And you fall with him, clinging to his shoulders as ropes of his cum coat your insides white. It's warmth, heat, desire overflowing past maximum capacity.

Caleb clings to you in the aftermath like a life preserver, chin in the crook of your shoulder and his hands tightly wrapped around your middle. You feel spent and sticky, but he still litters kisses all over your skin like you're the oasis in the middle of a desert. You've never looked more beautiful.

And when you stare into each other's eyes coming down, your shared arousals seeping out from where you two meet, you both know everything has changed.

"Caleb, I can't breathe. Loosen up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

The ends of his sweat-soaked hair tickle your neck as he nuzzles in closer. "I can breathe for the both of us just fine."

"Caleb!" You turn in his hold to protest further, but he steals another kiss from your lips before you can gladly give it. Once again, like a bird called back to its flock, you're lost in him. And, in you, he's found.

He's freed from the fear you're going anywhere without him. The physical reminders you're here keep his doubts at bay.

They keep him from admitting how much of a liar he is. How he's keeping a part of his life from you. How he'll always tuck away the fraction he's certain will make you run from him without a second thought.

── .✦ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 (𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘):

@filmnings @innocygnet @prkhaven @frenchkisstheabyss @xomakara @tinycatharsis @pinkjellyz @bambiihee @xylatox @asiatic-apple @humanjarvis

© 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗞𝗘𝗨; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌!

[formulafanfics13]

oscar is mad af after silvo. you've seen him be angry before but never this much. he's taking out all his frustration on reader and is literally hyper focused and i mean dead set on making sure reader's legs are shaking by the time he's done with her. she could cum 3 times back to back but if she can still stand properly then he's not satisfied, he needs this victory after not having the racing one yk?

Showing an Emotion - OP81 🔥

Masterlist

summary: silverstone should've been his. he raced flawlessly. controlled the field. led the damn thing. and then the stewards fucked him. now oscar piastri is furious - not outwardly, not loud, but ice-cold and razor-sharp. and the only way he can process it is by turning that precision and rage on you - by making you cum so many times your legs give out and your body begs for mercy.

warnings: angry dom!oscar, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, power play, psychological domination, leg shaking, semi-rough sex, possessiveness, light restraint, emotionally charged smut, reader is unnamed/undescribed, post-race fury release, dark tone

The door barely closes before he's on you.

No words. No kiss. Just Oscar - stormy-eyed, jaw clenched, still wearing his team kit, and vibrating with something dangerous. His fingers are on your waist, in your hair, tugging your body into his like he needs proof you're real. Like he needs to break something.

You gasp his name. He doesn't answer. Just backs you into the hotel wall with cold, surgical calm, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding between your thighs like he already knows you're wet for him.

Because you are. You always are. Even when he's like this. Especially when he's like this.

"You saw it," he mutters, voice low and deadly. "You know I had it."

You nod, breathless. "I know, baby. I know."

He still doesn't kiss you. Just stares at you. Like he's studying the weak points in your armor. "They took it," he says. "They gave it to him. After everything."

You don't say Lando's name. You don't say anything.

Oscar's fingers push past your underwear, and you gasp as he finds you already soaking.

His mouth twitches. Not a smile. Something meaner.

"Of course you're wet," he murmurs. "Always so ready to let me use you."

You moan. He doesn't soften.

"You're gonna take it all," he growls. "Every bit of frustration. Every second of what they stole from me."

He sinks to his knees. His tongue is relentless. No teasing. No warm-up. Just full pressure against your clit while two fingers thrust deep inside, curling with mechanical precision.

You cry out, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto. His arm locks around your thigh, holding you open, keeping you steady while he devours you like it's his final fucking lap.

"Gonna cum?" he murmurs between strokes. "Already?"

You nod, sobbing. "Please - I'm gonna - Oscar - fuck -"

He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. Your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train and he holds you through it, mouth still locked to your cunt, tongue never letting up.

You try to move. To breathe. He drags you down by the hips onto the bed before you can recover.

"I didn't say we were done," he mutters.

You barely have time to gasp before he's inside you. He fucks you like he's chasing redemption. Not rushed - controlled. Precise. Brutal. Like every thrust is part of some internal strategy, some quiet revenge.

Your legs shake. Your body quakes. You've already cum again and he knows, he feels it, and he doesn't let up.

"You think I'm satisfied with that?" he snarls. "You think one little orgasm makes this better?"

You can't speak. You're sobbing his name.

He grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to his.

"You don't get to rest," he whispers. "Not until your legs give out. Not until you can't fucking stand."

You nod. You'll take it. You'll take everything.

He flips you over, takes you from behind with ruthless control. His hand snakes between your thighs again. His fingers slide over your swollen clit, and you scream.

Your third orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave. You collapse forward, arms trembling.

Oscar pulls out. Stares down at your shaking thighs.

"You still standing?" he asks.

You don't answer. You can't.

He flips you again. "Good."

It takes four. Four orgasms. One from his mouth. Two from his cock. One from his fingers again while you're already overstimmed and twitching and begging him to stop.

When you finally go limp, legs trembling so hard you can't even kneel, he sighs like he's finally been released from hell.

Then, finally, he kisses you. Gentle. Soft. Like you're breakable. Like he hasn't just torn you apart.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your mouth. "I just... needed something. Needed a win."

You stroke his hair, still breathless, heart still pounding.

"You have me," you whisper. "That's a win."

He closes his eyes. And for the first time since Silverstone, he exhales.

[glowettee]

✧・becoming the girl they can't touch but can't forget・゜✧

post 1 post 2

hey lovelies! welcome to the third part of the siren syllabus series!!

i've been really into presence lately. not just being physically present somewhere, but that quiet magnetic energy some people carry that makes them impossible to ignore. you know those girls who walk into a room and somehow shift the air without even trying? the ones who leave conversations and somehow linger in people's minds for days after?

i used to think those girls were just born with something special. some magical fairy dust that made them unforgettable while the rest of us blended into backgrounds. but lately i'm realizing it's not magic at all, it's actually a subtle alchemy of self-possession that any of us can create.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the moment i knew i needed to change ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

last week i was at this coffee shop working on an essay when this girl walked in. nothing flashy about her, simple white tee, jeans, messy bun. but she moved with this quiet certainty that made me stop typing mid-sentence. she wasn't performing for anyone. she wasn't checking to see who was looking. she just existed fully in her skin, ordered her drink without that apologetic tone so many of us use, then sat down and pulled out a book.

i couldn't stop watching her (not in a creepy way i promise). she wasn't conventionally perfect or trying to be the main character, she just fully inhabited herself. and it was magnetic. the way she tucked her hair behind her ear without checking her reflection, how she laughed at something in her book without glancing around to see if anyone noticed. there was something almost otherworldly about someone so completely at ease with themselves.

i want that. not to be watched or admired necessarily, but to exist with that level of self-containment. to be so at home in myself that i don't leak energy seeking validation or apologizing for my existence. to become the kind of presence that lingers in a room long after i've left it.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the quiet practices of magnetic girls ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

i've spent months studying these effortlessly magnetic people and experimenting with little shifts that are slowly changing how i move through the world. here's what i've discovered works:

stop explaining your choices

when i say no to plans, i don't follow with a paragraph justifying why. when someone questions a decision, i don't scramble to make them comfortable with it. my choices don't need defense attorneys. this was honestly terrifying at first (recovering people pleaser here) but the discomfort passes quickly, and what remains is this unexpected feeling of sovereignty.

try this: next time someone asks why you made a choice, simply respond with "it felt right to me" and then let the silence be. notice how uncomfortable it might feel at first, but how powerful it becomes with practice.

take yourself on intentional solo dates

not the performative instagram kind where you stage photos of books and coffee to prove you enjoy your own company. actual dates where i treat myself with the attention and curiosity i'd give someone i was falling for. museums where i linger at whatever painting pulls me in without worrying if i'm boring anyone. restaurants where i order exactly what i want without considering if someone wants to share. movies in empty afternoon theaters where i can fully disappear into stories.

the girl who enjoys her own company without needing to broadcast it has a certain gravity to her. she's not alone because she's unwanted, she's alone because she's complete.

speak with quiet conviction

i used to have this habit of downplaying my thoughts, peppering everything with "maybe" and "i think" and "i could be wrong but." now i say what i mean directly. not unkindly, but clearly. it's amazing how people respond to this, how they actually listen more when you speak with quiet conviction.

practice removing qualifiers from your speech for one day. instead of "i think maybe we should try this approach?" try "this approach would work well here." feel the difference in your body as you speak.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･selective mystery ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

there's something soooooo irresistible about a girl who doesn't reveal everything at once. not in a calculated, playing-games way, but in the natural unfolding of someone who understands that intimacy is earned, not given freely to everyone who asks.

create intentional boundaries around your energy

i've started being much more selective about where my emotional energy goes. not everyone deserves access to your deepest thoughts, your vulnerabilities, your dreams. share these precious parts of yourself only with those who have shown they can hold them with care.

this isn't about being cold or distant, it's understanding your own worth. the girl they can't forget knows that her inner world is a garden with a gate, not a public park.

presence over performance

in a world obsessed with performing for invisible audiences online, there's something revolutionary about being fully present in your actual life. i've been practicing putting my phone away when i'm with friends, making eye contact during conversations, really listening instead of waiting for my turn to speak.

presence is magnetic in a way that performance can never be. the unforgettable girl isn't the one with the most followers. she's the one who made you feel truly seen in a conversation months ago that you still think about.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the contrast ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the most magnetic people i know contain beautiful contradictions. they're warm but selective with their energy. kind but firm with their boundaries. soft in their approach but uncompromising in their values. there's an intriguing tension in someone who can't be easily categorized.

selective vulnerability

being vulnerable doesn't mean emotionally exposing yourself to everyone. it means having the courage to be seen fully by those who have earned that privilege. i'm learning to share my deeper truths with a chosen few rather than seeking validation through constant emotional disclosure.

maintain your own sacred rituals

develop practices that are just for you, not for content, not for sharing, not for anyone else's consumption. maybe it's a morning writing ritual, a special place you visit alone, a playlist you only listen to when you need to reconnect with yourself. these private anchors give you a sense of self that exists completely independent of external validation.

the strangest part of all this? the less i grasp for attention or validation, the more i seem to linger in people's minds. the girl they can't touch but can't forget isn't trying to be unforgettable, she's just fully embodied in her own life.

it's not being untouchable in a cold way. what i'm saying is having boundaries that come from self-respect rather than fear. it's about being warm and open while remaining firmly rooted in who you are.

who are you when you're not trying to be liked? what would it feel like to move through your days without seeking external validation? that's where the magic lives, in that quiet certainty that you are enough exactly as you are, not performing for anyone, just existing fully in your own skin.

and isn't that the most magnetic thing of all?

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[madebycloud]

STAY

rumi x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary．workaholism is practically her middle name. rumi works to the bone day in, day out, always putting her work before everything else… and that includes you. (requested by @remmia) warnings/themes．light angst and fluff, argument, happy ending words．2.0k

Rumi was supposed to come home at 9pm, according to her.

11:14pm. She's two hours late.

You tried calling her, but it just rang endlessly. No answer. Texting her was no use either, as she rarely replied to your texts these days.

She's busy.

She's just busy.

Too busy for you, at least.

Too busy to spend time with you. Too busy to pay attention to you. Too busy for the person she's supposed to come home to every day. 

It wouldn't bother you so much if it hadn't happened so often... late nights, lack of responses, missed calls, canceled dates. Sometimes it feels like Rumi puts her job before anything else. The fans, the fame, the work, the music. Everything, except you.

You've been patient. You've been understanding. You've tried to support her in every way. You've tried to be the best partner you could possibly be. 

It's not like you're asking for much, is it? just a text to say she's running late or a call to say she missed your call. Anything would be better than the silence you're constantly met with. 

Rumi promised. She promised she'd make time for you. 

And yet...here you are. Sitting alone in the apartment, waiting for a girl who's always too busy to give you any of her time.

And waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Eventually, you hear a click as the door opens slowly, spilling light from the hallway to flood into the space.

“Oh... babe, you're still up.”

You scoff in response, not meeting her gaze. “I am. been waiting for you to come home.”

Rumi closes the door behind her, taking off her coat and shoes. She then turns towards you, sighing. “Babe... please, let's not get into this right now...” she says, stepping cautiously into the apartment. “I'm tired, okay? It was a long day—”

“A long day, huh?” you interrupt, standing up from the couch.

It's always the same excuse. 'Too tired.' 'Work was busy.' 'We'll talk tomorrow… I'm sleepy...' Yet, here she is again, showing up late and expecting you to simply accept it without complaint.

Rumi walks over to you, reaching out to take your hand in hers, but you bat it away. She frowns. “You know how it is. The company's got a lot of big projects coming up… I had a lot of things to take care of today.”

You look at her incredulously. “And how many times have you said that exact same thing in the past month— in the past three months?”

“I… I just… I can't always control my work schedule, you know? Babe—”

You cut her off again, pointing a finger at her. “You know you can control when you answer my calls. You can control when you send me a freaking text back—”

“I was busy, okay? I tried my best to respond whenever I could, but work—”

“Work, work, work! That's all you ever care about these fucking days. You never have time for me. I'm not asking for much, just a call or a text or ANYTHING!”

“Why are you so angry about this?!” she snaps back, throwing her hand to the side. “You know how important my job is to me. It takes a lot of my time, and I'm trying my BEST to juggle everything— the company, the comebacks, the fans, and you! I'm trying to do it all, and it's not easy—”

“Not easy?” You laugh bitterly. “Is it difficult for you to send a ten second text to your partner? To give them a quick call just so they know you actually remember they exist? What's so hard about giving a few minutes of your time every once—” You swallow. The knot in your throat tightens. “When was the last time we even went on a date, Rumi? when was the last time you even told me you loved me? Is that how you prove you're 'trying?'”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” Rumi's voice suddenly rises over yours.

You step back instinctively, eyes brimming with tears. “I just want some of your attention, Rumi. Is that really too much to ask for...? Just show me that you CARE about this relationship— that you CARE about ME. I just want—” You pause, inhaling deeply, wiping away a tear that rolls down your cheek with a trembling hand. “...I just want to feel loved... by you.”

Her features soften instantly. Guilt creeps into the corners of her eyes when she sees your tearstained face, noticing the vulnerability that you rarely showed.

Rumi exhales slowly, steps towards you, and pulls you into a tight hug. You rest your head against her shoulder, arms remaining limp at your sides. 

“I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry...” she whispers. “I don't mean to neglect you. I just get really caught up in my work. There are music shows, performances, fans, and a million things happening at once... it's not easy, babe.”

You don't hug her back. Her words don't comfort you; her touch doesn't ease your worries. She's just saying what she thinks you want to hear, what she has to so you'd forgive her.

“If it's not easy for you, Rumi... if you find it that hard to make time for me. Then maybe... maybe we should just... end this... whatever this is.”

It's not that you actually want to leave Rumi...but you can't keep living like this. Constantly ignored, constantly feeling unloved. You deserve better than this—to live in a shadow, to feel so little but to give so much. 

“No. No, wait, no— babe, please... please don't say that.” Rumi pulls back to look you in the eye, grasping your face between her hands. “You're just upset... you don't mean that.”

“I am upset, Rumi. I'm tired. I'm hurt. I'm so fed up. I just feel like you've forgotten that I even exist. I can't keep going like this, Rumi... and I don't think you want to either.”

The words seem to stab straight into Rumi's heart. Her hold on your face trembles. “You're not thinking straight right now...I'm tired, you're tired, and it's late. Can we just go to bed, please? we can talk about it tomorrow, I promise.”

She's right about one thing: you are tired. Not just from the late hour or the emotional strain of the argument. It's the weariness of putting up with this situation for so long, hoping that things would somehow change.

So you don't protest as she leads you towards the bedroom, gently pushes you onto the bed, and don't resist as she climbs on top of you, laying on your body, not wanting to be apart from you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm so stupid, so selfish. I'll be better. I'll—” Her voice falters. “I love you. I love you so much... I'm so sorry.”

You lift your arms as if to push Rumi off, but your gesture changes midway, folding around her quivering frame, cradling her against your chest. The warm wetness seeps from her eyes onto your skin.

There you stay. Rumi sobs into your neck, hands tightly clenching fistfuls of your clothes. She'll probably be back to ignoring you when the sun rises. 

But for now, for just these few stolen moments while she clings onto you with all her might...

...you want to believe her and hope that come morning, things will feel different.

───────────

Morning arrives. Your mind slowly pulls awake, but your eyes stay closed. Hands instinctively reaching out to your side in search of a familiar warmth. Except... the only thing your hand manages to find is a cold, empty space.

Wait. Cold? Empty?

Your eyes snap open, the sleep clearing from your vision in an instant.

There's no Rumi. No warm body, no messy hair on the pillow, no comforting weight pinning you down in place. The covers beside you are ruffled but already cold.

Sitting up, your eyes drift to the small clock on the bedside. 9:15am.

You throw the covers off yourself, standing up. The hardwood floor is cool under your soles as you leave the room. 

The apartment is silent. No sounds of water running or the hum of a hairdryer.

No sign of Rumi.

What were you expecting? for her to actually keep her promise? ...How pathetic, desperate, stupid, and gullible you are. 

Just when you're about to wallow in your own self-loathing, the sound of the front door opening suddenly catches your ears.

There, in the doorway, stands Rumi, dressed in sweatpants, cropped hoodie, holding a plastic bag filled with groceries. “Morning..,” She then shuts the door and walks towards the kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter. “I went to the supermarket early to avoid the rush. Got us some things we needed, a few extra snacks I thought you might like—”

“I thought you'd be at the studio right now.”

Rumi pauses, stalling as she begins unpacking the groceries. She doesn't turn around when she says, “I took a break...for a month.”

You blink in disbelief.

She continues as you approach the kitchen. “I told Bobby that I needed some time off, and the company agreed. I won't be going into the studio for a while or having any schedules. So we can spend some time together.” 

“What about the girls?”

“Mira and Zoey are also taking time off to take care of their own things. It's just you and me. No work, no studio, no interruptions to deal with. Just us. For an entire month.”

Did you hear her right? Rumi, who's always working, always busy, always has no time to answer her phone, took a whole month off? For...you?

“Where do you want to go? I was looking online earlier, and I think going to Jeju would be nice. We could get a small rental car there and just drive wherever, or if you'd rather stay in Seoul, we could—”

You don't realize you've closed the distance between you until you're standing right behind her, arms encircling her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. 

You've missed this. Holding her, feeling her, being with her like this. It's like...you can breathe again. 

Rumi stiffens at the sudden contact, hands freezing around the milk she just grabbed, then lowers it back into the bag before slowly melting into your embrace, leaning back as her hands cover yours on her stomach, thumb tracing over your knuckles. 

Neither of you speaks for a while, simply content to stay in the other's arms after such a long time.

A month off. 

No distractions. No late nights. No schedules. 

Just the two of you. 

To try. To fix things. To fall in love again. To make up for lost time. To simply exist in each other's presence. 

“I'm sorry.” Rumi tilts her head to rub her cheek softly against yours. “I know I wasn't the best girlfriend to you...and— and I messed up. A lot. I've hurt you. A lot. I can't promise I won't screw up or be able to fix the mistakes I've made, but...I promise I'll try. For us.” 

You don't reply. Can't reply. Not when your heart is stuck in your throat and the words are choking you from within.

So instead you hug her tighter. Hold her closer. Hoping that this time it'll be enough. That after all the hurt, heartache, tears, pain, things will finally work out as long as you both try.

It's then that your stomach decides to make its presence known, rumbling loudly. Rumi laughs, her own stomach following suit, gurgling as if on cue, earning another laugh from both of you.

Your laughter dies back into a chuckle, Rumi turning in your hold to look at you with a small smile. “Do you want an omurice?”

You nod, mirroring her smile. You haven't had her omurice in so long.

She then presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Rumi.”

Both of you end up making omurice for breakfast, and despite the fact that the eggs get slightly overcooked and you make a bit of a mess while rolling the omelette, your heart is lighter than it's been in months.

[stevesgother]

hi lovely! i have some requests from one taurus to another 😽😽

if we could combine the stop flirting with me/ i can’t i like seeing you get flustered and 16 from the smut prompts (the sunscreen one) that would be so amazing of you

maybe reader is robins friend who’s got it bad for steve (and the feeling is mutual) but they’re both being idiots about it and steve finally invites her over to the pool to listen to music or something, or maybe they’re on a group trip idk you decide

MWAH thank you and happy birthday 🩷🧁

ok i've finally gotten around to this and i'm so excited MDNI! fem!reader, smut, piv, bathroom sex, language, cocky!steve a little bit bc he knows he's your crush and he loves it

sex on fire

"Is he going to be there?" You ask hopefully. Pathetically.

Robin points out as much, "Oh my god, you're actually pathetic,"

See, Robin Buckley has two best friends-- whom she loves very much-- but God, they will not stop talking about each other to her. She has to physically swallow down the bile that rises in her throat at the mental image of the two of you bumping uglies nearly every day.

"He's going to be there, but--" she sees the glint in your eye and immediately begins talking faster, "I do not want to spend my one afternoon not trapped inside a stale family video watching the two of you make heart eyes at each other. Got it?"

You salute her, straightening your posture in mock seriousness. You were going to give her request an effort, really. But now that you know he's going to be there, it's all you can do not to think about the straight slope of his nose, or the moles that dot in abundance all over his tanned, olive skin. You can already picture the broad expanse of his shoulders and the thatch of hair that starts at the top of his pecks and disappears beneath the waistband of his swim trunks. God, you want to find out just where that trail leads--

"Hey!" Robin snaps her slender fingers in front of your face, "You're literally already drooling."

"Rob," you raise your right hand, "I solemnly swear that I will be on my best behavior."

"It's not even you I'm really worried about," she groans. Already conjuring the mental image of the man she's seen Steve morph into around a woman he finds attractive, like a male bird during mating season. And what's worse is that he doesn't even just find you attractive-- that would be one thing. Steve wants to take you out to get greasy diner food after a night of barhopping and dancing; he wants to hold your hand during horror movies and wake up to you in his bed. Steve wants to do all kinds of things that aren't fucking you stupid anywhere and everywhere that was technically legal.

The entire friend group was gathered together around Steve's ridiculously well-maintained inground pool on the hottest day in July. Maybe the hottest day of the year. You'd nearly been late because of how much time you'd spent picking out a swimsuit. Something that wasn't too slutty but still didn't leave a lot to the imagination.

Steve, evidently, had the same idea. You've never seen men's swim trunks with such a short inseam that wasn't a Speedo; though you've seen Steve in that, too. Thank you, Hawkins High Swim Team!

Robin had never technically told you that Steve had a huge, honking crush on you; but you had your suspicions. It was in the way his eyes darkened a little when he watched you take off your sundress to step into the refreshing water of the pool. He tried to hide behind his Ray Bans, but he wasn't slick. Everywhere you went, Steve was never far behind. Opting to get you a drink, to sit at the empty seat beside you at his picnic table on the patio, or using whatever pool float that you weren't.

You started to feel the unmistakable ache of a sunburn on your shoulders around an hour into the party as you realize with a stark clarity that you never put on sunscreen. Idiot.

Robin must've packed some in her tote bag; that's what Robins do, right?

After scouring through the contents though, you come up empty.

"I'll be back in a minute!" You yell to the rest of the party as you head inside the sliding glass door. You make your way to the only Harrington bathroom you could locate and start tearing through the linen closet. How is there not a single bottle of sunscreen in this whole damn house--

"Looking for something?" A charming, tenor voice asks you from the doorway.

You jolt and feel your face go red for an entirely different reason that has nothing to do with the hot ball of fire in the sky, "Uhm, yeah, sorry I--"

"Oh," Steve tsks when he takes a glance at your shoulders, "lookin' a little burnt, huh?"

"Yeah-- that's--actually why I'm in here. Looking for sunscreen." He makes you so stupid and syrupy it's infuriating.

Steve reaches over you into the top shelf of the medicine cabinet that had been right in front of you, disguised as a mirror.

"Here," he smiles and holds it out for you to take like you hadn't just gotten the most delicious whiff of his deodorant and natural musk; like you hadn't just gotten a front row, unobstructed view of his perfect biceps flexing.

"Th-thanks." You stutter, hating yourself for it.

"Hey, no problem," he winks. Asshole. "Can you reach your back though? That's where you're gonna need it," his tone would suggest he's actually concerned, but you know better.

"Stop flirting with me," you warn, impossible to take seriously with the way your voice shakes.

"Can't," Steve says, lifting the bottle of sunscreen and flipping open the cap with his thumb, "I like seeing you flustered,"

A cold dollop of sunscreen hits the warmed skin of your back, then Steve's gentle but calloused hands spreading it evenly over the expanse of your shoulders. His thumbs dig and knead at the tense muscle there, it causes your breath to hitch in your throat.

"Haven't been able to stop looking at you all day," Steve whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath fanning your neck. He smells like mint and summer and chlorine.

"I know," you choke on your breath.

"Bullshit," his hands have suddenly moved lower, your shoulders forgotten. Steve's mouth connects with the supple skin of your jaw; the imprint of his grin on your neck. His fingers hook beneath the waistline of your bikini, snapping it back into place with the harsh sound of wet fabric meeting skin. You can feel the hard outline of him against your ass, hardly any layers separating you with how both of your swimsuits are still a little damp. You don't dare to imagine what it would feel like if the two of you really were stripped bare.

You tilt you head back to grant him easier access to continue his assault on your neck, "Eck-" Steve says suddenly, breaking your focus.

"What-- is everything okay?" You ask worriedly, afraid you'd done something to disgust him and not even known it.

"Got sunscreen in my mouth," he smiles sheepishly, the first time since the two of you have been trapped in this tiny half-bath that Steve has dropped his cocky vibrato. You liked the shy look on him.

"Oh," you giggle and turn to face him, bracing your hands on the cool ceramic of the sink, "Maybe kissing me would help get the taste out of your mouth?" His cheeks flush. Checkmate.

Steve Harrington might appear to be all smooth smiles and charming sentiments, but its a rouse. Behind all of that arrogant bullshit is a boy who wants to be liked-- wants to be wanted. It takes almost nothing for him to crack.

His breath stutters as he leans in, trying to take some of the power back that he'd momentarily lost. The kiss is hesitant at first, his lips soft and plush. He pushes when you pull and he slips his tongue between your lips when you part them for him. Predictable. Easy.

"I like you, Steve," you admit quietly against his lips. He pulls back to look at you, properly doe-eyed.

"But if we do this, I want to go out with you. Really go out. On a real date. No more of this 'will-they-won't-they' shit." You continue.

"Of-of course." He stutters, "Anywhere. I'd take you anywhere." and he means it. Not just because he wants to get his dick wet now, and not because more sex might follow a successful date.

"Okay," you breathe, leaning in again.

"Okay." Steve breathes back.

His lips collide with yours more hungrily now, with the knowledge that this could really happen again. His hands pull your pelvis flush to his by your waist, a moan escapes you at the press of his dick against where you've been throbbing for him since the moment you stepped foot on the Harrington's back deck.

His hips grind rhythmically against you as one of his hands finds the back of your neck at the same time that your fingers begin carding through his chlorine soaked hair.

"Can I take these off?" Steve pants, referring to your bathing suit bottoms.

"Yes," you even lift and shimmy your hips to help the tacky fabric move down your legs and onto the tiled floor with a heavy plop!

Steve's fingers find your clit in record time-- Seriously, who would've thought?-- and he rubs consistently tight circles over you. You're positively falling apart in his hands, and you might've been more embarrassed if you weren't so horny.

You pull the tie of his swim trunks loose and watch them fall to his ankles; his cock bobbing deliciously against your stomach with the close proximity. It was surreal getting to see it somewhere other than in your wet dreams.

Steve falls to his knees like a man worshipping an ancient being, spreads your thighs with two huge hands and licks a long stripe up your centerfold. It all happens so fast, you don't have even a second to catch up. Your hips buck once into his mouth, but he takes it like a champ-- licking and sucking in all the right places with just the right pressure.

"Steve," you gasp, taking a fist full of his hair to guide him exactly where you need him. He loves it, revels in it, even. He hums in encouragement as you continue to ride his face in earnest, the beautifully straight slope of his nose proves its more than just for show as it bumps deliciously against your clit every time Steve moves his head.

His mouth is too busy to do anything but make choked noises of gratification before slipping his index and middle finger into your soaked core. There's not even an ounce of resistance.

Steve continues pumping in and out of you, rests his cheek on your thigh, "Gotta get her ready f'me, baby," he tells you, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the junction where your leg meets your hip.

Steve stops suddenly. It takes literally every ounce of composure you have left not to whine and cry like a child over the loss of stimulation.

"Wait." Steve says, looking up at you from his knees; his mouth shiny with spit and your arousal, pupils nearly all the way blown.

"What?" You ask exasperatedly.

"I don't have any condoms--"

"Steve!"

"I'm sorry! I've been having a dry spell, forgive me!" He defends but it's useless. No amount of unbridled, pent-up horniness is going to convince you to let this a man fuck you raw, especially when you're not on the pill.

"Just--" You rush for an idea. Any idea. "Fuck my thighs then?"

"Fuck your-?" His eyebrows quirk and it'd be cute if you weren't so desperate to get the friction back.

"Yes, just," you huff, help pull him to his feet, turning yourself around to face the bathroom mirror, "Like this." You guide his heavy cock in between the wet mess of your thighs, and the unexpected touch causes Steve's hips to jolt and an embarrassingly pathetic whine to tumble from his lips.

Steve gets the hang of it quickly, moving in slow languid strokes while his eyes boar into yours in the mirror's reflection. It's way hotter than it should be.

You push your hips back to meet his thrusts in time, signaling him to speed the rhythm up a bit. You needn't not remind Steve Harrington twice. For all his cocky vibrato, he's been shockingly quick to fall to your will.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and forces your head back to keep eye contact with him when your neck feels too weak to hold it up yourself, "Want you to keep lookin' at me, baby. That's it." There's that cocky vibrato again.

The feeling of his fist at the base of your skull is perfect, but not enough. You grab his hand and gingerly bring it around your front; he gets the memo. His index and middle fingers quickly resume the brutal pace Steve had previously set with his tongue. Between that and the mouth-watering friction of his cock sliding along the inside of your plush thighs, you're not far from the edge already. The pretty little noises he's making in your ear don't help either.

You're not even sure Steve knows what he's saying, just breathy whispers of praise as he ruts filthily against you:

Yeah, baby. That's it, so beautiful like this. Gonna make you come all over my cock, huh? Fuck, you feel so good. God.

The specifics don't matter; you're just praying he doesn't stop.

Before you know it, you're right there. "Yes, Stevie, don't stop! That's so good, baby."

Steve's mouth parts in a cocky grin, "Yeah? Right there?"

"Yes!" You gasp; mouth parted in a silent scream.

You're not sure what compels you-- you're not usually quite as vocal in bed. Or, in bathroom. "Good boy." You pant as your orgasm washes over you, knuckles white against the marble countertop of the Harrington's pristine half bath.

Steve comes immediately with a sharp gasp and teeth sunk into your shoulder to stifle whatever guttural noise would've escaped him if he hadn't. Oh. Steve Harrington has a praise kink. Dually noted.

The sink in front of you, his hand and your thighs are all covered in his release. Genuinely. There's so much.

A rough hand grasps your jaw, pulls you into a searingly hot kiss; deep and languid. Your breath mixes as you pant into each other's mouths.

A pounding on the door snaps you both from your reverie. It's Robin. She doesn't have to say anything, you just know.

"Hey, dickheads! Care to come help with dinner or are you guys content to keep sucking face all evening?"

Steve exhales a frustrated breath through his nose, "Jesus, Robin. We'll be out in a second. You hear her receding steps as she stomps off towards the kitchen once more.

Steve smiles at you, tender. Kisses your temple with soft, sweaty lips.

"This isn't over," he mumbles into your hairline.

"You're right. You still have to take me out on a date."