#tom is asking him to feel his pulse

[bochedogmeat]

Pulse

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 5) - Never Have I Ever, Darling

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: what started out as a brilliant anon prompt turned into a potential minishot turned into this bonus chapter. Have at it, darlings.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Set after part nine. Some of our beloved cast members (Phia, Tom, Liv, Emma, Harry, Bethany, Fabs, Matty, Ewan, and the reader) are in different cities so they decide to have a mini online reunion. And - you guessed it - chaos ensues.

Ewan leans back in his chair, watching the grid of faces on his screen. The reunion call had been predictably chaotic from the start, and now, with everyone several drinks deep, things are getting even more unruly.

“Okay, I’m bored of all your faces now,” Tom groans, leaning back in his chair in mock annoyance. “How about we play a little game?”

You roll your eyes at Tom’s theatrics, but your lips twitch up. “Yeah, why not? I can’t say I enjoy seeing your giant mug either.” This only prompts Tom to shoot back with, “What, this mug?” He then shoves his face into the camera until his nose fills the screen. 

Ewan’s smile widens as he watches you lean in to match Tom’s energy, scrunching your nose at the camera. His heart gives an involuntary lurch. He misses you, and all your sharp and witty retorts. You can make him laugh without even trying. His mind flashes to what you used to have together, and it stings more than he cared to admit.

But then his eyes dart to the tiny square beside yours – Matt. His smile is effectively dampened. 

Phia cuts in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “We were thinking... Never Have I Ever? So you have to say whether or not you've done a thing. If you have, take a drink. And elaborate if you want.”

She winks at someone – or maybe a few someones – definitely not Ewan. He frowns. Something’s going on here. 

“Oh, I don’t do that,” Harry jokes. “I’m too young and innocent to drink!”

Emma beams at him, “That’s my good boy.”

Without missing a beat, Tom slides in, smirking, “Do I lose cool points if I also want Emma to call me their good boy?” 

“When have you ever been cool?” Ewan deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Ouch,” Tom dramatically presses a hand to his chest, “You roasted me in the show, and now you roast me in real life? Cold, mate. Cold.”

Fabien chuckles, but Ewan barely registers it. His focus drifts to you, laughing at something Matt just said in the chat. His chest tightens, and he heads to the kitchen to refill his drink. It is always like this. He could never decide if he was more annoyed with Matt for being so… Matt, or with himself for letting it get to him. But how can it not?

When everyone is settled back in their seats, respective alcoholic beverages in hand, Phia announces, “Alright, drinks ready? Let’s go! I’ll start.” She pauses dramatically before delivering her line. “Never have I ever… embarrassed myself at work.”

Ewan freezes, already knowing he’s about to be dragged into this. Your eyes flicker toward him, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I know who! Mr. Ewan Mitchell please take the stage,” Tom prompts, his voice ever teasing.

Matt raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer to the camera. “Yeah, mate. Let’s hear it.”

Ewan feels a pulse of irritation, but he forces a casual grin, raising his glass. “Fine. Fine. There was this one time… during an interview… where I got... distracted.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning wickedly as you catch his glance. “By what? A hard question?”

Ewan chuckles darkly, his gaze locked on you. “Nope. By a certain someone.”

The rest of the group catches on instantly, erupting in loud whoops and laughter. You laugh too, shaking your head, but the faint blush creeping up your neck doesn’t go unnoticed by Ewan.

“Ohhh, I remember,” Liv howls, her wine sloshing in her glass. “You'd go beet red! We even had a drinking game dedicated to those.”

"What?" Ewan asks, clearly confused.

"Nothing," Liv quickly mutters, but then she and Phia have to stifle their giggles.

You lean back in your chair, shaking your head. “By the way, I wasn’t distracting! I was just being professional.”

“Sure, love,” Matt chimes in, throwing a smirk your way. “You’ve always been very… professional.”

Ewan’s smile fades slightly as he watches the exchange. He tries to laugh it off, but there’s a knot forming in his chest that refuses to loosen.

Tom jumps in to keep the energy up. “Next one! Never have I ever... pretended to know something just to impress someone I liked.”

Matt and Ewan both freeze for a second. Tom’s eyes light up, knowing he’s hit something. Everyone else watches intently, waiting for one of them to crack.

Phia laughs, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, come on, boys. One of you’s gotta drink to this.”

Matt is the first to cave, lifting his glass with a sheepish grin. “Alright, guilty as charged.”

“Oh? And what was it?” Ewan asks, leaning forward, his tone sharper than he intended.

Matt shrugs, eyes flicking to you briefly. “Indie film. Thought I could impress someone by pretending I’d seen it. No idea what it was about.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Points for trying, Smithy.”

“Cheers to trying too hard, I guess,” Ewan icily mutters.

Matt doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens as he drinks. 

Phia, loving the growing tension, grins wickedly as she leans toward the screen. “Alright, alright. This one might be for the silly boys. Never have I ever... gotten flustered because of someone I’m attracted to on set.”

Ewan’s heart jumps into his throat, and he catches your eye. The group goes silent for a split second before exploding in laughter.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Tom says, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Ewan feels his face heating up, the alcohol loosening his control over his reactions. He tries to play it off, taking a deliberate sip of his drink, but he knows everyone’s watching him. Matt, unsurprisingly, is doing the same.

“Wait – both of you?” Emma teases, eyes darting between Ewan and Matt. “This is getting interesting.”

Bethany chuckles. “What’s this? A love triangle brewing? Well, I already know which side I’m on!”

Ewan can feel the weight of the question hanging in the air, even though it’s masked in humour. His heart pounds, but he keeps his face neutral. The laughter from the screen feels distant, his focus narrowing on you as you nervously sipped your drink.

Before anyone can linger on the moment too long, Tom jumps in with another devilish idea. “Next one: Never have I ever... met my celebrity crush.”

You sigh dramatically, lifting your glass. “Alright. Fine. I have.”

Matt’s smirk widens. “And who would that be?” 

You pause for a moment, glancing at Ewan briefly before you say, “Matt was my celebrity crush during his Doctor Who days.”

The group erupts into chaos – clapping, whistling, teasing jabs flying from every direction. Tom is practically falling out of his chair with laughter, clapping loudly. “Oh, that is brilliant! Drink up!”

Matt raises his glass, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Ewan forces a smile, the jealousy burning under his skin. Just when he thinks it might cool down, Liv drops another bomb. “Alright, here’s a cheeky one. Never have I ever... had naughty public sex.”

The group’s reactions ranged from laughter to playful groans, but Ewan’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes went wide, and you quickly glanced at him, clearly panicking.

His phone buzzes on the table, while the rest of the group is busy answering – and attempting to avoid – the question. He looks down and sees a message from you.

My Darling: Don’t answer that.

- Why not?

My Darling: They’ll figure it out

- My love, hate to break it to you but I wasn’t celibate before we met

My Darling: You know how they think

-  It’s not a big deal.

My Darling: Come on. Please?

-  Say the magic word

My Darling: I just did.

- No you didn’t

My Darling: PLEASE don’t answer that.

- Not what I’m looking for

My Darling: Oh for fuck’s sake.

- What do you call me?

My Darling: Don’t answer, Mitchell.

- Nope

My Darling: Ugh. Ok.

My Darling: Baby, don’t answer that. I implore you. Baby, oh baby. 

Ewan can’t help but giggle to himself at your barely veiled sarcasm, just bleeding off the text message. His silly girl.

- And we have a winner!

My Darling: I hate u.

- Enough to fuck my brains out in a semi-public place

My Darling: Shut up, Mitchell.

- You love me

You glance up from your phone, eyes meeting Ewan’s on the screen. He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream, clearly loving watching you squirm. He leans back in his chair, keeping his glass lowered. “You know, I think I’m going to plead the fifth on this one.”

Tom and Fabien erupt into loud boos, but the rest of the group is laughing, already tipsy and entertained by the spectacle. Ewan feels a rush of satisfaction watching you blush even harder.

“Oh, come on!” Tom scoffs, clearly annoyed. “You can’t plead the fifth. This is a mostly British group call.”

“I’m in LA,” Ewan shoots back with a grin. “I’m allowed.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Harry interrupts, his eyes wide with confusion. “I’m sorry, what does ‘pleading the fifth’ mean?”

Emma responds, “I think that means you can choose not to answer.”

“What?” Harry practically yells, and nearly slides off the edge of his seat, making everyone laugh. “So I could have been using that all this time?”

“It’s an American thing, mate,” Bethany clarifies, trying to stifle her laughter.

“But Ewan’s doing it!” Harry protests. 

“I’m in LA so…” Ewan shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Ewan has a point,” you chime in, coming to his aid – and yours. “Just let the guy plead the fifth.”

Phia then points to you, mischief in her eyes. “Alright, babe, your turn. No pleading the fifth. You’re not in LA.”

“What?” you freeze. In your efforts not to get Ewan to answer, you forgot you had to avoid the same problem. Ewan just stares at your flustered image on the screen, mouth parted in disbelief. You think for a moment, then blurt out, “But I… also plead the fifth!”

“You’re not in the US!” Tom declares. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Come on,” you retort, scrambling for an excuse. “I could be in the US right now, how do you know?”

“Love,” Matt smirks, “I just saw you yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say immediately. “That was my twin sister.”

“Then she’s every bit as gorgeous as you are,” Matt quips, relishing the moment.

“Alright, you two,” Phia says, feeling the need to intervene for Ewan’s sake. “Okay, babe, no more dodging. You have to follow the rules.”

“I… I… oh for fuck’s sake,” you sigh in defeat. “Yes.”

The group erupts into drunken cheers, the noise practically deafening through Ewan’s speakers. He watches you laugh, clearly embarrassed, but enjoying the chaos.

Then, just as the cheers start to die down, Ewan raises his glass with a smug grin. “You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll answer too. Yes.”

The group explodes again –  Fabien banging on his desk, Tom howling with laughter, and Liv nearly spilling her wine in delight. Meanwhile, Ewan’s eyes remain locked on yours, the tension between you undeniable.

Fabien, already catching on, cheers loudly. “Yes, mate!”

You cover your face with both hands, utterly speechless. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, trying to process the turn of events.

“Oh,” Emma starts, then repeats with more gusto, “OH! So you two…”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

A little something mainly for the Ewan girlies... 😉

Oh, and Liv hinted at a past bonus chapter if you can catch it ~

Anyhow - this was fun! At least Ewan seemed to think to so at the end there. 🥃🍷🥂

[rootedinrevisions]

To the Sky and Back

SUMMARY: After a falling-out with Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, reader tries to piece her life back together, avoiding every place and routine that reminds her of him. But when Bradley faces a high-risk mission, a visit from Natasha "Phoenix" shatters her fragile peace, forcing her to confront the depth of her feelings. With Bradley’s life hanging in the balance, she must decide whether to risk her heart again and let him know just how much he means to her before it's too late. A story of love, loss, and second chances, To the Sky and Back explores the courage it takes to hold on to what truly matters.

A/N: This was a combination of two different asks that I received! One was requested for the prompt and then the other was requesting some angst with Bradley where the angst is a little more prolonged. Thanks to both of the people who sent the request for this in! Hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT: "I'm sorry I'm not the person you want me to be."

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst. Some more angst. And then some fluff.

WORD COUNT: 7.4K

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck hummed with its usual Friday night energy. Glasses clinked, laughter rose in waves, and the jukebox crooned an old Tom Petty song. You sat at the bar, absentmindedly tracing the condensation ring your drink had left on the wooden surface. It had been four months since you’d seen Bradley Bradshaw—four long months of waiting, wondering, and overthinking. You couldn’t decide if the knot in your stomach was from excitement or the growing anxiety about what, exactly, you and Bradley were.

Your heart jolted when you heard it—the unmistakable low rumble of the Bronco’s engine pulling into the parking lot. Your pulse quickened, and you felt every nerve in your body go on high alert. Turning toward the door, you saw him.

There he was. Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, in all his casual, rugged glory. Light wash jeans clung perfectly to his long legs, paired with a simple white undershirt under an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. His aviators, always a part of his signature look, were perched on his face, but as he stepped inside, he slid them off, tucking them into his shirt pocket. The room seemed to dim around him, your focus narrowing solely to the man you’d spent countless nights thinking about.

His eyes scanned the bar, and the moment they found yours, a lazy, lopsided grin spread across his face. He didn’t break eye contact as he ordered his beer from Penny. Then, beer in hand, he made his way to you.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said smoothly, his voice low and warm, like a melody you’d missed without realizing it.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you slid off the stool, your arms wrapping around him instinctively. The tension of the last four months melted—if only for a second—as he looped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you in. He smelled of salt and sunscreen, the lingering scents of the ocean clinging to him.

“Missed you, sweets,” he murmured near your ear.

Your throat tightened at his words, but you forced yourself to play it cool, smiling up at him. “Missed you too.”

For a moment, you were lost in the way he looked at you, the warmth in his hazel eyes making your chest ache. But then, with a slight squeeze of your shoulder, he pulled away.

“I should go say hi to the gang,” he said, gesturing toward the pool table where Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote were gathered. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Of course not,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “Go catch up.”

He gave you another of his disarming smiles before walking off, his long strides carrying him toward his friends. You watched him go, heart sinking slightly as you turned back to the bar. 

The reality of your situation hit you again: you didn’t know where you stood with him, and the months apart hadn’t brought any clarity.

The laughter from his group reached your ears, and you sipped your drink to distract yourself. You wanted to be happy just to see him again, to feel his arm around you, to hear him call you “sweets.” But in the pit of your stomach, the question gnawed at you: What are we?

The night had deepened, and the cool ocean breeze filtered into the bar as the laughter and music continued around you. Bradley had been with his friends for most of the night, his easy smile and quiet laugh lighting up the group. You didn’t begrudge him the time to reconnect, but your heart weighed heavier with every passing minute. You couldn’t wait any longer.

When he came back to the bar to grab another beer, you saw your chance. Before he could return to the others, you touched his arm, stopping him.

“Bradley,” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the jukebox. His hazel eyes met yours, warm but questioning. “Can we talk? Just for a minute.”

His brows knitted slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

You gestured toward the patio doors. He hesitated for a beat, then set his beer down and followed you outside. The night outside was quieter than inside the bar, the faint crash of waves filling the space between you. 

Bradley leaned casually against the patio railing, but there was tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He seemed almost hesitant as he met your gaze.

“What’s on your mind, sweets?” he asked, his voice warm, though a flicker of unease crossed his features.

You exhaled deeply, gathering the courage to say the words that had been circling in your mind for months. “I need to talk about us, Bradley. I need to know what we’re doing.”

His expression faltered, confusion laced with discomfort. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “We’ve been doing this for a year. And I’ve been happy—really happy—with you. But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with not knowing where I stand. I need to know if this is going somewhere.”

He shifted his weight, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think we needed to put a label on it,” he said, his tone measured. “I thought we were good.”

“That’s the problem,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “I might have been okay with that before, but I’m not anymore. I want more, Bradley. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. Officially. Exclusively.”

He frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening as he crossed his arms. “I don’t see why we can’t just keep things the way they are. I like what we have. It works.”

“Does it work for you? Because it’s starting to tear me apart,” you shot back, your voice louder now. “I’ve spent the last four months not knowing if I was the person you missed or just someone to pass the time with when you’re here.”

Bradley’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes burning with something between guilt and frustration. “You think I don’t miss you?” he asked sharply. “You think I don’t care about you?”

“I don’t know what to think, Bradley!” you admitted, throwing your hands up. “You never tell me how you feel, and you keep everything so damn vague. I don’t even know if you’ve been with anyone else, because we’ve never talked about it!”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I haven’t been with anyone else. It’s only been you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, but it didn’t ease the tension coiled tightly inside you. “Then why can’t you just say it? Why can’t you call me your girlfriend?”

“Because it scares the hell out of me!” he snapped, his voice breaking slightly. He turned away, bracing himself against the railing. “I’ve seen what this life does to people. My dad left my mom behind, and it destroyed her. I can’t—” He exhaled roughly, his broad shoulders rising and falling. “I can’t do that to someone. To you.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You think you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length? You think it doesn’t hurt to feel like I’m asking for too much just to be something more to you?”

He turned back to you, his hazel eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’m not the person you want me to be.”

His words cut deep, and a tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swiped at it angrily, stepping back. “I’m sorry, too. Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending this is enough.”

“Wait,” he said quickly, reaching for your hand. “Don’t go. Please. We can talk about this—figure something out.”

You shook your head, pulling your hand away. “We’ve been ‘figuring it out’ for a year, Bradley. I can’t keep waiting for you to decide I’m worth the risk.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice breaking. He stepped closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “You are worth it—I just—”

“You just don’t know if you’re ready to admit it,” you finished for him, your voice trembling. “And I can’t keep waiting for you to be ready.”

The silence between you was deafening. He looked at you like he wanted to say something—anything—that would make you stay, but the words never came.

Finally, you turned and walked away, tears blurring your vision. 

“Wait!” Bradley called after you, his voice raw. “Let me at least drive you home. Please.”

You stopped but didn’t turn back. 

“No,” you said firmly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t follow me, Bradley.”

As you reached the parking lot, Jake Seresin stood leaning against his truck, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. When your tear-streaked face came into view, his expression softened.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Can you drive me home?” you asked, wiping at your cheeks. “Just drop me off and come back.”

Jake nodded, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere in sight. He opened the passenger door for you without a word, and you climbed in.

As Jake’s truck rumbled to life, you glanced back. Bradley stood on the patio, his hands on his hips, his face a mix of heartbreak and confusion. The sight of him cracked something deep inside you, but you forced yourself to look away as Jake pulled out of the parking lot.

The weight of what had just happened settled heavily on your chest, and for the first time in months, you felt the full brunt of the unknown you’d been living with.

The hum of Jake’s truck filled the silence as you stared out the passenger window, the cool night air brushing against your face from the barely cracked window. You gave him quiet directions when needed, your voice soft and distant. Jake didn’t press, didn’t ask what had happened right away, and for that, you were grateful.

But the silence couldn’t last forever.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked finally, his voice even but cautious.

You shook your head, your eyes still fixed on the darkened streets. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Jake glanced at you briefly, the furrow of his brow barely visible in the dim light of the dashboard. “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said carefully. “You looked pretty torn up back there.”

Your jaw tightened, and you exhaled sharply through your nose. “I’m fine,” you said, though the crack in your voice betrayed you.

Jake didn’t push, but he wasn’t ready to let the conversation drop entirely. After a moment, he said, “You know, Rooster talked about you while we were deployed.”

Your head turned sharply toward him, your stomach twisting. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jake said casually, his hands steady on the wheel. “Nothing too specific, but… you came up. Enough to know you were on his mind.”

The words stung more than they soothed. If you’d been on his mind, if he’d thought about you during those long months apart, then why couldn’t he just give you what you needed? Why couldn’t he make things official?

“Great,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “That makes it so much better.”

Jake glanced at you again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Look, I’m just saying… the guy cares about you. He might not say it the way you want, but he does.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Caring about someone isn’t enough if you can’t show it. If he cared, he wouldn’t make me feel like I’m asking for too much just to have some clarity.”

Jake didn’t have a response for that, and the silence returned, heavy and thick.

A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of your place. The truck idled quietly as you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice softer now.

“Anytime,” he replied, his tone sincere. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

You nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Jake didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll wait till you’re inside,” he said, his voice firm but kind.

You gave him a small, grateful smile before stepping out of the truck. The cool night air hit your face, grounding you for a moment as you made your way to your front door. You fumbled with your keys, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside.

As you turned to shut the door, you glanced back at Jake. He gave you a short nod before driving off, his truck disappearing into the night.

The quiet of your home wrapped around you as you leaned against the door, your chest tightening with the weight of everything that had happened.

For the first time in a long time, you felt completely alone.

The silence of your home was interrupted by the sharp buzz of your phone on the counter where you’d dropped it. You hesitated before picking it up, already guessing who it might be.

The screen lit up with Bradley’s name. The first message was simple, almost hesitant.

Bradley: Just let me know when you’re home safe.

You stared at it for a moment, your chest tightening. A second buzz followed.

Bradley: Can we talk? Please?

Then another.

Bradley: I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just—I didn’t know how to handle it.

And another.

Bradley: You can put the label on it. Whatever you want. I don’t care. Just… don’t shut me out.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing with each buzz. His words were frantic, almost desperate, but that only made the ache in your chest deepen.

He didn’t want the label because he wanted it. He wanted it because he thought it would keep you from walking away. That wasn’t what you’d asked for. You wanted him to want you, fully and without hesitation. But this? This was him trying to patch things up without really understanding what had broken.

The phone buzzed again, another message lighting up the screen.

Bradley: I care about you. You know that, right?

You sat down on the edge of the couch, the weight of everything settling heavily on your shoulders. Your thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to respond.

But you didn’t. Not to this. Not to him trying to fix things for the wrong reasons.

Instead, you set the phone down on the coffee table, face down, and leaned back, closing your eyes. If he really wanted to know you were home safe, he could ask Jake. The thought was petty, maybe even cruel, but right now, you don’t have the energy to be the bigger person.

You needed space. Time to think. And if Bradley wanted to prove he cared, he’d have to do more than send a flurry of panicked texts.

Your bedroom was dark except for the soft glow of a streetlight filtering through the curtains. You kicked the door shut behind you, your chest heaving with the weight of unshed tears.

Stripping off the shirt and jeans you’d worn to the bar, you rifled through your drawer for something comfortable. You yanked out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, tugging it over your head in a rush to get comfortable.

The scent hit you before the realization. That faint mix of salt air, pine, and his cologne.

Your heart plummeted.

It was his shirt.

You froze, staring down at the faded Navy insignia printed across the chest. A lump rose in your throat, thick and unrelenting. Without thinking, you ripped it off, balling it up in your fists.

The scream tore from your throat, raw and full of anguish as you hurled the shirt across the room. It smacked against the wall and slid to the floor like it had no right to exist, like it hadn’t just unraveled you completely.

"I hate you," you whispered, your voice trembling as you sank to your knees. "I hate you, Bradley Bradshaw."

But even as the words spilled from your lips, you knew they weren’t true.

You hated the way he made you feel. The way he held you so close but never close enough. You hated the way he smiled at you, like you were the only person in the room, and the way your heart betrayed you by falling for him.

You hated that you weren’t enough for him.

Tears streamed down your face as you pressed your palms into the carpet, curling over yourself. He wouldn’t put a label on it to protect you, but what good did that do now? You were already in too deep. The dates, the late-night conversations, the stolen kisses, and the nights spent tangled in his sheets—none of it had been casual for you.

God, you were in love with him.

The sob broke free before you could stop it, wracking your body as you crawled onto your bed. You grabbed your pillow, clutching it against your chest as if it could anchor you, and let the tears fall.

It hurt. It hurt because the label didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Whether he called you his girlfriend or not, it wouldn’t stop the fear you felt every time he flew. It wouldn’t protect you from heartbreak if he didn’t come back.

And yet, the label was everything. Because it meant he chose you. It meant he wasn’t holding back, wasn’t keeping you at arm’s length because of his own fear.

The pillow muffled your cries as you curled into the fetal position, trembling from the force of your grief. You hated him, but only because you loved him so much more.

The light from the morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting warm, golden hues across the room. You woke with a start, blinking against the brightness, your head heavy from the weight of last night’s tears. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, the remnants of your sobs still echoing in your mind, the sting in your throat lingering.

You sat up slowly, the tightness in your chest reminding you of how broken you had felt when you finally gave in to the exhaustion and let sleep claim you. You hadn’t expected to wake up with this much pain still sitting in your bones. The weight of everything felt heavier today, more unbearable.

Then you heard it.

A knock.

A sharp, insistent pound against your front door.

You flinched, the sound jerking you from your thoughts. Your gaze flicked to the alarm clock on your nightstand. Barely eight in the morning. Who would be knocking at your door this early? You pulled the blanket off your body and swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the dull ache in your limbs from the previous night’s emotional rollercoaster.

With trepidation, you padded down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet. Your mind raced with thoughts of what could be waiting for you on the other side of the door.

You reached for the handle, taking a deep breath before opening it.

And there he was.

Bradley Bradshaw.

Standing there, one hand raised in the midst of another knock, his eyes wide, full of uncertainty and something else. Something deeper. His jaw tightened when he saw you, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with the unspoken.

He was still in the clothes he’d worn to the bar last night, like he hadn’t bothered going home first. His expression was a mixture of regret and frustration, but there was something else too—guilt, maybe. Or maybe it was just that damned vulnerability that had always been so hard to read with him.

“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was softer than you expected, rough around the edges, like he’d barely slept.

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes flicking over his face, searching for something. What did he expect from you right now?

You weren’t sure you even had the energy to be angry with him. The night before had drained you, and the last thing you wanted was to face him again.

“I… uh, I wanted to talk.” His voice cracked, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, frozen, still not sure if you were ready to hear what he had to say. Last night had hurt too much, and you weren’t sure if you were willing to put yourself through more of it.

But, against your better judgment, your mouth opened. “About what?” You didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but the words slipped from your lips, laced with a bitter edge.

Bradley shifted his weight, his eyes dropping to the ground for a brief moment before meeting yours again. There was something desperate in his gaze now, something that mirrored the pain you’d felt last night.

“I screwed up. I know I did.” He spoke like he hadn’t planned the words but they’d come out anyway, raw and real. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want a label, but I get it now. I see that I’ve been messing this up for both of us.”

Your chest tightened. The familiar ache in your heart was back, that throbbing reminder of how close you were to breaking. He was standing there, telling you everything you needed to hear, but it didn’t change the fact that it was too late.

“I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t want, but if I’m being honest… I don’t want to lose you.” His voice softened, and there was a flicker of something that could almost be called regret. But the words didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel like they were coming from the heart. They felt like something he was saying out of guilt.

The silence stretched between you. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, feel the weight of the decision that had to be made in the pit of your stomach.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. It was all too much, too soon.

Bradley stepped closer, closing the space between you, his expression pleading now, vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache. 

“I want this with you, I do. But I—” He stopped himself, breathing out like the words were caught in his throat.

You looked at him, really looked at him. You could see the cracks in his façade, the uncertainty that was so unlike the confident man you knew. But even with that vulnerability laid bare, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all just words.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Bradley,” you whispered, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t want to be some maybe or could be. I need to know where I stand.”

Bradley’s face fell, his lips parting as if he were about to say something else. But nothing came. He just stood there, looking at you like he was piecing together what he should say next.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and for the first time, you saw the true weight of regret in his eyes.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the emotions that threatened to spill over again. “I don’t think you are, Brad. Not really.”

The air between you both thickened, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, you stepped back, closing the door gently in his face.

You leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you heard his footsteps retreat, his presence now a memory.

You were alone again.

And maybe that was how it was always meant to be.

* * * * *

The days dragged on in a haze of quiet frustration and longing. Each morning you woke, the weight of the night’s emotional unraveling clung to you like a second skin. The sun would shine through your window, the world would move forward, but you felt paralyzed by your own hurt, by the thought of Bradley, by the pain of what could have been and what never would be.

You tried to get yourself back on track. You tried to act normal, to resume your routine, but everything seemed to remind you of him. His absence was like a wound that wouldn’t heal, reopening with every corner you turned.

The grocery store was the first hurdle. You knew Bradley went every Monday, and it used to be something the two of you did together. It felt like some unspoken tradition, something that was both ordinary and deeply comforting. But now, it just felt like a reminder of everything that had gone wrong. So you avoided it, switching your shopping day to Tuesday. Even though you knew he wouldn’t be there, the thought of running into him in that same mundane space, where everything felt like a memory, was too much to bear.

The Hard Deck was the next obstacle. The bar where you’d spent so many nights with him, the place where you laughed, argued, and shared quiet moments between chaos. You knew there was more than a 50% chance Bradley was there any given night. The bar, the music, the dim lighting that you once enjoyed felt suffocating now. You could hear his laugh in your mind, could see the glint of his eyes as he grinned across the room. But you refused to risk seeing him, to risk letting the pieces of your heart shatter again. Even when you drove by a few nights, when his Bronco wasn’t parked in its usual spot, you still didn’t stop. What if he had caught a ride? What if he was inside, and you just didn’t know? You couldn’t take the chance. Not when every interaction with him had the potential to destroy you further.

And the texts… the texts never stopped.

At first, they were constant—his messages coming in one after the other, in a rhythm that mirrored his thinking. Morning, noon, and night. He texted like he couldn’t bear the thought of you not knowing what he was doing, where he was. He sent them as soon as he woke up, like he needed to remind you that he was still thinking about you, even if he hadn’t quite figured it out himself. Those morning messages were the hardest to read, because you knew he hadn’t forgotten you. He was still holding on in his own way, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t fought for you when it mattered.

And then came the late-night ones. The ones that were sent in the early hours, long after the world had gone quiet. You would wonder if he was sober when he wrote them, or if he had been drinking, a little too far into his own thoughts and regrets. Those messages were the ones that made your heart ache because they felt like half-baked apologies, like words spoken too late. They didn’t fix anything, they just twisted the knife.

But the ones that hurt the most were always in the middle of the day. The ones sent out of habit, when he was about to head into the sky, the ones that used to bring you a sense of safety, a quiet assurance that no matter what, Bradley always had a way of telling you what he was doing. “Hey, I’m headed up. I’ll be in the air for a couple hours, but I’ll let you know when I’m back on the ground.” It was something that had become routine between the two of you. You never asked for it, but you always appreciated it.

Now, those messages made your stomach drop. You hated the anxiety that came with the first text, the one that told you he was headed into the sky. And you hated the sense of relief you felt when the second one came, telling you he was safely back on the ground. It was stupid. It was pathetic. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop caring. You couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in your chest, the pull of wanting to make sure he was okay.

And that’s what drove you mad.

You hated that you still cared. You hated that despite everything, despite his distance and his indecision, you couldn’t make yourself stop thinking about him. You couldn’t make yourself forget Bradley Bradshaw.

Even as you tried to rebuild your life, to find new routines, new places, new things to focus on, it all felt like an illusion. Nothing felt normal anymore. Your world had become a strange, hollow echo of what it used to be. And no matter how hard you tried to avoid him, to erase the pieces of him from your day-to-day life, you couldn’t escape the truth.

You were still in love with him. And you were still waiting for him to make a decision.

But you knew you couldn’t wait forever.

You just didn’t know how to stop.

* * * * *

Two months had passed since that early morning when Bradley stood at your door, and in that time, you’d learned to carry on without him. It wasn’t easy—some days were harder than others—but you were slowly learning how to exist without waiting for his texts, without hoping for him to just show up at your door again.

You still thought about him. Not every day anymore, but almost. And that, you decided, was progress. It didn’t feel like much, but it was something. There were days when the memories of his laugh, the warmth of his hand in yours, didn’t sting quite as badly. And then, there were days like today, when the past came rushing back to you in a way you couldn’t avoid.

It was just a knock on your front door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and yet, when you heard it, you knew something was about to change.

When you opened the door, there she was—Natasha "Phoenix," standing in front of you. Her usual confident demeanor was a little softer today, like she was carrying something heavy that she didn’t want to talk about.

"Hey," she said, her voice low but steady. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping aside to let her in. Something about the way she stood at your door made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just the fact that it was her—it was what she was about to say. You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this anxious.

The two of you made your way to the kitchen, where you offered her a drink. She politely declined, settling down at the table. You sat across from her, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

"Everything okay?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure why, but you already had a sinking feeling that you weren’t going to like what was coming.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her eyes meeting yours. "There’s a mission coming up. I can’t tell you much—it’s classified. But I wanted to let you know that Bradley might be flying it."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You knew this was bad. You could feel it.

"Bradley’s been flying high-risk missions for years," Phoenix continued, her voice steady but firm, "but this one is different. This is the most dangerous mission he’ll have flown. The odds… they’re not good. It will take two miracles happening at the same time for him to get home safely."

You couldn’t breathe. You wanted to stop her, to tell her that you didn’t need to know all the details. But you couldn’t. The words had already come, and they were burning through you.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes serious. "But there’s something else. Something I need to tell you, woman to woman."

You swallowed hard, trying to brace yourself, though you already felt like you were crumbling.

"Bradley hasn’t been flying with a clear head," Phoenix said, her voice dropping to a more quiet, urgent tone. "Not since the last mission. He’s been distracted, pulled in a thousand different directions. And if he doesn’t fly this one with a clear head… I don’t think he’ll make it back."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your chest tighten, the air suddenly impossible to breathe.

Bradley hadn’t been okay. He’d been struggling, and you hadn’t even known. You hadn’t been able to help him, to fix whatever had been broken inside of him. But this… this was worse than anything you had imagined.

You stared at Phoenix, your mind reeling. All you could think about was the possibility—the reality—that Bradley might not come home. You had never imagined a world where that could happen. Where you could lose him forever.

And then it hit you—the realization that it was never just about the label. It was about so much more. About how, no matter how much you wanted to be enough for him, you weren’t the one who had mattered enough to him for him to put everything aside, to fight for you. And that was painful. But the thought of him not coming home? That ripped you apart in ways you didn’t know you could be broken.

"Please," you said, the words breaking through the suffocating silence. "Please tell me he’s going to be okay."

Phoenix didn’t answer immediately, her gaze shifting away as if she was trying to find the right words, the right reassurance. But there was nothing she could say.

"I don’t know," she finally said, her voice so low you could barely hear her. "I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I’m not sure. I don’t know if he’s going to be okay."

The words hung in the air between you, suffocating you in their weight. And all you could do was sit there, trying to grasp onto the fragile threads of hope that felt so far out of reach.

It was the hardest thing you’d ever had to hear. The thought of him not coming home, of him being lost to the sky forever—it made your entire world feel like it was unraveling.

You thought you were past him. You thought you could move on, heal, and put him behind you. But now, all you could think about was the future, the one where you would never get to see him again.

It was too much to bear. And you hated it. You hated that you couldn’t walk away from him, that you couldn’t turn your back on the love you had for him—even if it was unspoken, even if it was unfinished. You hated that you couldn’t fix him, couldn’t make him see you the way you needed him to.

But worse than anything, you hated that you might never get the chance to tell him how much you loved him.

Phoenix’s voice cut through the overwhelming weight of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "They’re getting on the aircraft carrier at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow," she said, her words steady but carrying a weight you couldn’t ignore. "I’m not asking you to come. I’m not asking you to talk to him. That decision’s up to you."

You felt a lump rise in your throat, the tightness in your chest making it hard to breathe. She wasn’t asking you to go to him, but she wasn’t telling you not to, either. The choice was yours, but it felt more like a trap than an option.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the fridge in the corner. Phoenix didn’t seem to expect anything from you, but you could feel the gravity of the situation pulling you under. You didn’t know what you wanted, what you were supposed to want. All you knew was that Bradley was flying, and there was a real possibility he might not come back.

You swallowed, blinking back the tears that threatened to rise. "Thank you for telling me," you said quietly, your voice betraying the emotional weight you were carrying. "I—I don’t know what to do with this. But I appreciate you coming to me."

Phoenix gave you a nod, her face unreadable. "Just make sure you take care of yourself, alright? Whatever you decide."

You didn’t know what that meant. Taking care of yourself? How were you supposed to do that when the person who had occupied every corner of your mind was potentially flying into danger?

She stood up, her movements deliberate. "I’ll leave you to think about it," she said softly, her tone still serious but warm. "Take your time. But just know, whatever happens tomorrow, you’re not the only one who cares about him."

You nodded, not trusting your voice enough to say anything else.

She left then, and the silence in the room was deafening. The weight of her words, the knowledge of Bradley’s upcoming mission—it all settled like a stone in your stomach. You wanted to scream, wanted to run to him and beg him to stay, to take care of himself, to put everything on hold until he could figure it out. But you didn’t know if that would even make a difference. You didn’t know if anything would.

You sat there for a long while after Phoenix left, staring at the kitchen table as your mind raced, desperately trying to put the pieces together. Could you let him go again? Could you really do it?

Your phone sat on the counter, and you found yourself staring at it, knowing the texts from Bradley would come soon. They always did. But you didn’t reach for it. Not yet. You couldn’t bring yourself to open that door again, to let him back into your heart when you were still so unsure of everything—of what he felt, of what you felt, of whether or not he’d make it home.

And then, as the evening wore on, you found yourself pacing the apartment. You didn’t know what you should do. You didn’t know what to feel. Should you show up tomorrow morning? Should you see him off? Should you do what you’d always done—pretend like everything was fine, like nothing had ever changed? Or should you face the reality of it all, admit to yourself that you might never see him again?

The decision was suffocating. You were pulled in two directions, unsure of what the right choice was. Every part of you ached to see him one last time, to tell him what you had never said. But part of you wondered if you were just chasing something that had already slipped through your fingers.

And so, you sat with it, the uncertainty eating at you, and waited. Tomorrow would come, and with it, the moment when you would have to decide whether you could let him go—or whether you would risk it all to see him one last time.

* * * * *

The morning air was cool, but the nerves gnawing at you kept your body warm as you pulled into the parking lot at 6:15. You wanted to be here early—too early maybe—but you couldn’t take the chance of missing him. It had been two months since you last saw Bradley, and now, you had no choice but to face everything you’d been running from.

The lot began to fill as you sat in your car, watching people say their goodbyes—families, friends, all of them hugging and holding on to each other a little longer than usual. Each goodbye seemed to break something inside you, a reminder of what could be lost, of what you had once had and might not again.

And then you heard it. The familiar rumble of an engine. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced to your right and saw it—the Bronco—pulling in next to you. You didn’t even have to look twice. You knew it was him.

For a split second, your eyes locked through the windshield, the kind of silent exchange that spoke volumes. Neither of you moved for a beat, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like a thick fog.

You didn’t know who moved first, but before you knew it, the car doors opened, and you were walking around the front of the Bronco to where Bradley stood.

There was a long pause, the air between you thick with everything you were both carrying. Your lips parted first.

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words coming out choked and raw. “I’ve been… so messed up, Bradley. I’ve been pushing you away and—” You stopped yourself, your chest tightening as emotion swelled. “I didn’t mean it. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Bradley’s jaw clenched, his gaze turning hard with guilt before he stepped toward you, cutting you off.

“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he said, his voice low but raw, full of regret. “I took you for granted. I lost you.”

The tears you thought you had already shed seemed to fall again at the sound of his words, and before you could stop yourself, you felt the sting of them, hot and sudden, blurring your vision.

His hands were on you then, pulling you into his arms, warm and solid. He was trying to comfort you, but it only hurt more, the realization that he knew—he knew it was his fault. The pain you’d been carrying had finally broken through, and you couldn’t help it. You cried harder into his chest, unable to control it.

Bradley’s arms tightened around you, his own breath shaky as he pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You could feel the way his body shook with something deeper than just the coolness of the morning air.

And then, between sobs, you whispered it—the thing you’d been holding in, the thing you needed him to hear.

"I love you."

There was no hesitation. No stiffening, no pulling away, just him pulling you closer, if that was even possible. 

His voice was rough when he replied, “I love you too, sweets. So damn much.”

The world seemed to stop then, everything else fading into the background as Bradley’s words sank in. The walls you’d built around yourself felt like they were crumbling as the words you’d longed to hear washed over you, finally, finally making everything feel right again.

But even then, the worry gnawed at you, pulling you from the moment. Your voice trembled as you looked up at him, hands gripping his shirt tight, “Come back to me. Please… come back alive.”

His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. 

“I promise,” he said quietly, and you believed him.

But then, as if the weight of the moment suddenly hit him too, Bradley pulled back just enough to look at you fully. 

There was something in his eyes, something that made your heart beat faster as he asked, “Will you be here when I get back? Will you wait for me?”

You nodded quickly, the answer spilling out of you before you could even think about it. “Yes,” you whispered, breathless. “I’ll be here.”

Bradley’s gaze softened, a hint of relief flashing across his face, and then he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and filled with everything you both had been holding back for so long. His arms wrapped around you tighter, and before you could process what was happening, his hands were lifting you off the ground, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours.

You heard the whistling before you could think about it, the sound of someone teasing. Maybe it was Jake. Maybe it was Coyote. Maybe even Bob, though it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because all you could feel, all you could think about, was the heat of Bradley’s kiss, the way his arms made you feel safe and wanted, the way he was home in a way nothing else could ever be.

In that moment, there was no question—no more uncertainty, no more fear. You were with him. And that was all that mattered.

[heartmaddie]

somethin' stupid ft. akaashi keiji childhood friends to lovers , angst hurt/comfort to fluff ; 1.6k words note continuation of this ; thank you to the anon who requested this!

"the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get so red and, oh, the night's so blue , and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'i love you'"

his hands are a blur, drumsticks slamming down on the snare and toms with merciless intensity. each beat representing the pulse in his heart, the sound rippling through his earbuds as his arm cried in agony, his muscles burning, but alas, he forbade their relaxation. his phone’s left stray on the ground below him, slick sweat dripping down his face as he pants erratically. each cymbal crash hits sharp, cutting through the air with brutal precision. akaashi and the drums are one, he’s feeding off the sound, driven by it until there's nothing left but the rhythm and his own refusal to stop. what feels like hours pass by, and he doesn’t stray from his seat, that was until one of the sticks snapped in a neat half, flinging through the air before falling to the hard ground with a thump.

“fuck.” he mutters, standing up quickly and he’s immediately confronted by the pain which stemmed from his prior actions which lasted hours. he leans down to grab the broken wood, before his phone blaringly rings. there’s only one person who’d call him at a time this late. he picks up.

“keiijiiii” you coo into the mic, your intoxication obvious through the slurs, “my designated driver left without me,” akaashi could imagine your pout through the screen.

“hm, and what am i supposed to do about that?” he asks tightly, the impatience apparent on his tongue as he finds a stray towel to wipe his moist back and neck.

“come pick me up. please” you whine, and he’s already midway through pulling up black sweatpants. “and don’t text my mom like you did last time!” he slips a thin shirt over his head.

“you vomited all over my car last time,” he mumbles, rolling his shoulders as he grabs an extra towel for you, and his car keys. “where are you? i’ll leave now.” he steps out of his apartment and towards the elevator down to the car park.

“i don’t know.. check find my or something” you reply, still having a whingey tone as he sighs deeply.

“okay, drink some water while you wait.” he slides into the car and checks your location, “i’ll be there in ten.”

“thank you kei, i love you!” you call out before hanging up.

it’s cruel how those words can so easily roll off your tongue, unaware of how they rip him and his heart apart. his canines dig into the flesh of his mouth, sharp pain and metallic taste flourishing throughout. his slender fingers connect his phone to the car right before he accelerates quickly to get to your location promptly.

he hears the party before he sees it, the car approaching the obstreperous house before parking a couple of houses away. he slides out of the car, keys jingling as he walks towards the house, unamused by the immature activities surrounding him. the base was boosted to an invasive amount, and he could feel the music through his bones. as soon as he steps into the house party, a familiar warmth is flung around his waist.

“kei, you said fifteen minutes..” you mumble against his shoulder, clinging onto him as his hand wraps around your waist as well. your breath reeked of lychee soju and the contact made him scrunch up his nose.

“do you feel sick?” he asks, his voice characteristically soft as he leads you out of the house, taking you back to his car. he hums when your head shakes, but he still ensures that you’re comfortable in his passenger seat with a towel draped over your legs.

his gaze can’t help but occasionally flick over you on the way back. he’s driving slower, he’s more careful about the turns that he takes, and if it wasn’t you in his passenger seat, he’d be annoyed by how long it was taking him to drive what should only take ten minutes. you’re illuminated red by the traffic light so he takes a moment to observe you. even if you were nothing, akaashi keiji would still be hopelessly enamoured by you. he was amazed by your soft hair cascading over your closed eyes, and how you strategically applied your make-up to cover any blemishes, but keiji looks past that and admires the beauty you embodied naturally. he wonders if anyone else notices it too.

for the past two weeks he’s tried to distance himself from you, as whenever he saw you, his heart would swell unmeasurably to the point where it ached. he yearns for you, and it’s so cruel how you’ll always just be out of reach for him. he looked over at you and took a deep, grounding breath. this would be the last time he would see you for a while, he decided. his hand reaches to shake you awake once you reach the location of his apartment. you cling onto his side as he helps you out of the car and towards the elevator. how you aerate the air around his neck is quite distracting, and blood paints his cheeks.

it’s almost endearing - watching you stumble through his apartment, searching for the pajamas that you’d usually keep here. he walked into his bedroom and found you wrapped up in his sheets, still smeared in the make up from earlier that night.

“you’ll get bronzer on my sheets,” he mutters, not being able to control the blush which forms on his cheeks when you roll over and look up at him with drunken, exhausted eyes. he takes a cotton pad drenched in micellar water before swiping it against your face.

you gaze into his deep cerulean blue eyes, and you’re breathless. it was no secret that keiji was a gorgeous man (which is why you’d never introduce him to your other friends), but under the dimmed golden light of his bedside lamp, you have never seen someone so beautiful. there was an emotion that ignited within you with every small glance he’d send your way, something so intimate would sprout within your chest, a feeling found nowhere else. you stared into the eyes which didn’t meet yours as his fingers gently brushed against swollen skin. maybe if keiji akaashi wasn’t so dense, he’d realise that you reciprocated the feelings he felt so deeply as well. soon enough, your gaze snaps away from his and towards the ground, where you notice the small, broken twigs of wood on the ground.

“i thought you hated playing the drums now,” you said simply, looking up at him curiously.

“just felt like it,” he murmurs in response, pushing your hair behind your ears, ignoring the concerned look in your eyes, “i’ll sleep on the couch, text me if you need anything. goodnight.” he moves to leave, fingers squishing the damp cotton pad into a ball, but you stop him. your fingers curl around his slender wrist, and your strength is surprising for someone still a bit intoxicated.

“keiji..” the exhaustion was so evident through your tone, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around your waist and keep you close forever. “stay with me tonight..” you attempt to tug him towards the bed, but he anchors himself to the ground.

“no, you should rest by yourself.”

“what if i vomit and die like in breaking bad?” he lets out a soft chuckle,

“you’re not gonna die like jane in breaking bad.” he strokes his fingers through your hair.

“okay but what if i do?”

“you won't.”

“you’re not certain of that,” you argue, sitting up on the bed before he nudges you back down.

“fine, i’ll lie down for a bit.” he slides into the opposite side of the bed, surrounded by your warmth. he jolts in surprise when you pull him into your arms, his head resting above your chest, your nose buried in his black hair. he’s so grateful you can’t see him blushing ever so deeply.

“i love you keiji..” you mumble against his scalp. his heart clenches at what seems to be a platonic declaration of affection, but unbeknownst to him, it meant more than he could imagine. you thought he was stupid, how many times would you need to repeat those stupid three words in his ear before he’d stop just humming in response and repeat them right back?

keiji akaashi’s heart pounded within the confines of his chest, he wanted those words to fall off his lips as easily as they did yours, but they couldn’t. his tongue is tied, afraid that the romantic intention behind his words was different from yours, he’s afraid of losing you. but he’s been holding off on his true feelings for so long that he couldn’t deny them anymore, the guilt was catching up to him so quickly.

he looks into your eyes, taken aback by the sight of everything which was you, which was everything to him. the fear of rejection haunted him, but there was something about your intimate presence which grounded him, bringing him right back to reality.

his fingers weave between the silky strands of your hair, lulling you to the brink of sleep before you’re warmed by his soft, devoted words.

“i love you too, more than you know,” he mumbles sweetly against your temple, soaking in the accords of your expensive designer fragrance as you succumb to sleep. for the first time in a while, akaashi keiji fell asleep without pervasive emotions plaguing his mind.

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed :p divs by roseraris

© heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

18+ mdni, jealousy, enemies who fuck. Little bit of smut.

Part one here

💕

A slow pulsing rage fills Eddie as he watches Tom flirt with you for the second time this week. His hand tightens on the desk, eyes narrowed as Tom touches your shoulder and goofs around trying to make you laugh.

Were you seriously buying this shit? Surely this isn't something that you found cute right? When he can't take the sickening sight anymore, he turns to his fellow Hellfire members and rants about you.

"Look at this shit, jesus h Christ are they trying to make me bring up my lunch" when Gareth and Jeff start chuckling he gives them a withering look that silences them both.

"Who cares what those two are doing" Mike huffs exasperated, "We should be talking about the next campaign"

He reluctantly agrees but keeps an eye on you, jealousy gnawing at him. Even if he won't admit it.

💕

Eddie meets you at your usual spot under the bleachers, he's tense and barely interacting with you, just kisses you intensely, dragging moan after moan out of you.

"What's up with you?" You ask him when the two of you are finished making out, he ignores you and fishes in his jacket for a cigarette and his lighter.

"You sure that Tom won't be pissed you're missing out on him mooning over you. It's enough to make anyone nauseated" he retorts and you bite back a smirk. Ahh so there it is.

"Aww jealous Munson?" his eyes flash with annoyance, he scoffs and rolls his big brown eyes black. How can someone have such pretty eyes, it was another reason you couldn't stand him.

"I don't get jealous princess" yeah sure, you really believe him.

Then he's tugging down your jeans and panties and hitches you up so your legs are wrapped around his neck, his head is buried between your thighs and you jerk forward, hands in Eddie's hair as he takes his sweet time in making you come, teasing and bringing you to the edge then back again.

His eyes never leave yours and when the orgasm comes it's incredible and you cry out in pleasure. Eddie licks his lips and stands up, gently lowering you off him. "You coming to mine tonight? my uncle is working late" he murmurs and you nod, legs still shaky from the orgasm you just had.

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, "I'm going to make you come so many times you won't even remember Tom's name" you're breathless as he pulls away, and aching needs filling your lower stomach.

...

You're barely a few minutes into the trailer and Eddie has you both naked and you're on top of him, riding him so hard that the moans that leave his throat are sinful.

"Fuck, fuck you feel so good, so tight" he groans and you move faster, getting lost in the pleasure as it overtakes both of you.

When dawn breaks and the two of you riding the high of your final orgasms, you're utterly spent, legs like jelly and giddy.

"Well you certainly made good on your promise Munson" he grins cockily and traps you underneath him.

"Told you I would didn't I princess?" he moves to your lips and kisses you slowly, he pulls you closer and you sink into the kiss, then he pulls back and there's a moment between you, something different... His fingers trace over your cheek and your breath hitches.

Fuck. He clears his throat and moves away breaking the spell between you and you get up quickly, pulling on your clothes.

"Should really get home. My parents will freak out if they know I snuck out" Eddie nods and you rush out of the trailer, breathing heavily and a million thoughts running though your mind.

What the hell was that?

[theodorenmyth]

Heyyy!! Idk if you might see this one but I wanna request reader who has this ability to only do fire spells. Like oh they could make a fire dragon appear and stuff. Some might say reader can’t possibly survive the wizard world doing fire magic, but their boyfriend Tom riddle ☺️☺️☺️ thinks other wise (Tom is hot asf)

Play with Fire

Pairings : Tom Riddle x GN! Reader

Summary : You have a unique gift for fire magic, which others at Hogwarts doubt. However, your boyfriend, Tom Riddle, sees your true potential. He encourages you to hone your abilities, leading to a powerful display of fire magic in the Forbidden Forest. Despite others' skepticism, Tom's unwavering belief in you strengthens your resolve. Together, you train in secret, forging a bond based on mutual ambition and power. With Tom by your side, you feel unstoppable, ready to reshape the wizarding world and prove everyone wrong.

A/n : HI WILLL and so true! Your fucking request is amazing. When I saw this, I immediately thought of Eleven from Stranger things except R! can do fire except telekinesis. I also suggest listening to "Play with Fire" while reading. Enjoy! (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Warnings) : nothing!

Word count : 1.5k+

The whispers started the moment you stepped into Hogwarts, a buzz of curiosity and skepticism that never seemed to fade. "How can someone survive the wizarding world with only fire magic?" they sneered. Your classmates doubted your abilities, but you paid them no mind. You knew your power, and so did your boyfriend, Tom Riddle.

It was a sunny afternoon when Tom asked you to meet him in the Forbidden Forest, far from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. You navigated the dense trees, feeling the familiar warmth of your magic pulsing in your veins. It was a part of you, as natural as breathing.

"You're late," Tom's voice echoed through the forest, smooth and commanding.

"Apologies," you replied, stepping into the clearing where he stood. "I had to deal with a few... curious eyes."

Tom's lips curled into a smirk. "Curious, or doubting?"

"Both," you admitted, shrugging. "But it doesn't matter. I can handle them."

"I know you can," Tom said, his eyes darkening with an intensity that always made your heart race. "That's why I brought you here. I want to see your magic, all of it."

"All of it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's a lot of fire, Tom."

"I can handle the heat," he replied, stepping closer. "Show me."

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and centered yourself. You felt the magic swell within you, a roaring inferno begging to be unleashed. With a flick of your wrist, flames burst from your fingertips, swirling around you in a mesmerizing dance.

Tom watched, his gaze never leaving you. "Impressive," he murmured. "But I know you can do more."

You smiled, the challenge igniting your spirit. Raising your wand, you channeled your magic, envisioning a dragon made of fire. The flames obeyed your command, coalescing into the shape of a magnificent dragon that roared and soared above you.

Tom's eyes widened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of genuine awe. "Magnificent," he breathed. "And you can do this without a wand?"

"Watch," you said, lowering your wand and raising your hand. The dragon obeyed, diving and weaving through the trees, its fiery form casting long shadows on the ground.

Tom stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the dragon. "They don't understand you," he said softly. "But I do. Your power is unique, formidable."

"They think I'm limited," you said, your voice tinged with frustration. "They don't see the potential."

"They're fools," Tom replied, his voice hardening. "In a world where power is everything, they fail to see yours. But I don't. I see it, and I will help you hone it."

You looked at him, his determination matching your own. "Why do you care so much, Tom?"

He smirked, his eyes gleaming. "Because power recognizes power. And together, we can achieve greatness."

You couldn't help but smile at his confidence. "You're ambitious, I'll give you that."

"And you're extraordinary," he replied, stepping even closer until you could feel the heat of his breath. "Never let anyone make you doubt that."

You felt a surge of gratitude and something deeper, something that made your heart beat faster. "Thank you, Tom. For believing in me."

"I don't just believe in you," he said, his voice low and intense. "I need you. Together, we can change the world."

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, you knew he meant every word. Tom Riddle was not one to give empty promises. His ambition and determination were as fierce as your flames, and together, you were unstoppable.

"Alright," you said, your voice steady. "Let's change the world."

Tom's smirk turned into a genuine smile, a rare sight that made your heart flutter. "That's the spirit," he said, taking your hand. "Now, show me more. I want to see everything you can do."

With a nod, you let the fire within you blaze brighter. You conjured fireballs, whips of flame, and even a fiery phoenix that soared into the sky. Tom watched with an intensity that bordered on obsession, his eyes drinking in every movement.

"You are incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "They don't know what they're missing."

"Maybe one day they'll see," you replied, the fire dragon circling around you protectively. "But for now, it's enough that you do."

Tom's gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw something vulnerable in his eyes. "I will always see you," he promised. "Always."

You believed him. In Tom, you had found someone who understood your power, who saw your potential and wanted to help you reach it. Together, you were a force to be reckoned with, and nothing could stand in your way.

As the sun set behind the trees, casting long shadows across the forest, you knew that this was just the beginning. With Tom by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And with your fire magic, you would burn brighter than ever before.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

That night, back in the Slytherin common room, you and Tom sat by the fireplace, its flames a comforting presence. The room was quiet, most students having gone to bed, leaving you both in a rare moment of peace.

"Have you ever thought about what you could achieve with your magic fully honed?" Tom asked, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

"Sometimes," you admitted, leaning back against the plush sofa. "But it's hard to imagine when everyone else only sees the limitations."

Tom reached out, taking your hand in his. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce ambition that usually radiated from him. "Their opinions are irrelevant. You have a gift that surpasses their understanding."

"And you're the only one who sees it," you said softly, squeezing his hand.

Tom's gaze intensified. "Because I know what true power looks like. And you, my dear, have it in abundance."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the crackling fire the only sound. You felt a sense of peace, knowing that Tom's belief in you was unwavering. His confidence bolstered your own, making you feel capable of anything.

"What do you think we could achieve together?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Tom's eyes glinted with excitement. "The possibilities are endless. With your fire magic and my... talents, we could reshape the wizarding world. Imagine the influence we could wield, the changes we could bring."

His words filled you with a thrilling sense of anticipation. "You really believe we can do that?"

"I do," Tom said, his voice firm. "But it will require dedication and secrecy. Not everyone will understand our vision."

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes," you said, your resolve strengthening.

Tom's smile was one of approval. "Good. We'll start with honing your abilities further. I want you to become so powerful that no one can ever question your place in our world."

"And what about you?" you asked, curious. "What's your role in this grand plan?"

Tom's expression grew contemplative. "I have my own goals, my own paths to power. But rest assured, our fates are intertwined. What benefits you will ultimately benefit me."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken promise between you. "Then let's make sure no one underestimates us again."

Tom's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and ambition. "That's the spirit. Together, we'll be unstoppable."

As the night grew deeper and the fire's glow dimmed, you and Tom sat side by side, envisioning the future. With every passing moment, your bond grew stronger, forged in the heat of your shared ambitions. And with Tom by your side, you knew that your fire would never be extinguished.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The following weeks were a blur of training and secrecy. Tom pushed you to your limits, encouraging you to explore new ways to channel your fire magic. You practiced in hidden corners of the castle, away from prying eyes, your confidence growing with each successful spell.

One evening, after an intense training session, you sat together in a secluded part of the library. Tom was engrossed in a book about ancient magic, while you practiced controlling a small flame that danced on your palm.

"You've improved significantly," Tom said without looking up from his book. "Your control is much more precise."

"Thanks to you," you replied, extinguishing the flame with a flick of your wrist. "I wouldn't have come this far without your guidance."

Tom finally looked up, his expression serious. "You've always had the potential. All I've done is help you see it."

"Still," you said, smiling. "I appreciate it."

Tom's gaze softened, and he reached out to take your hand. "You don't need to thank me. We're partners in this, remember?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with your magic. "Partners."

As you looked into his eyes, you realized just how much he meant to you. Tom Riddle was ambitious, cunning, and often ruthless, but he had a soft spot for you. He saw your worth when no one else did, and that meant everything.

"I'll always be by your side, Tom," you said softly. "No matter what."

Tom's eyes held a rare tenderness. "And I, yours."

In that moment, you knew that together, you could face anything. The future was uncertain, filled with challenges and obstacles, but with Tom by your side, you were ready. Together, you would burn brighter than the fiercest flames, leaving an indelible mark on the wizarding world.

[starrykirsche]

Holaa can you write a short fic based on the headcannon you wrote ab tom (this one: Gets turned on by cuddling with you, but lowkey blue balls himself so that he doesn’t disturb you )

Like hes cuddling reader and gets rlly turned on but wakes her up by like accidentally moaning in her ear or something and reader is just like "tom are you hard??" and hes so embarrassed

I just think that would be so cute +++ i love ur work!!

god i love this ty for the req !!!

here’s the link for the tokio hotel cuddling headcannons this fic is derived from!

Sleep Well?

a Tom Kaulitz cuddle fic

content: cuddling, smut, self induced edging, fluff

synopsis: you and Tom are cuddling, you fall asleep in his arms and, Tom being Tom, gets himself in a pickle… because of his pickle

Tom gives you a loving squeeze from behind you and you smile softly. With your back firmly pressed against his chest, he holds you in his arms for dear life. A movie plays in the background, one that the both of you stopped watching a while ago. You can feel yourself growing more comfortable in his arms— and therefor sleepier too. The warmth of Tom cocooning you in himself has lulled you half to sleep, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. You feel a little kiss pressed onto the back of your neck by those all too familiar lips, decorated by a metal ring. Letting out a wayward sigh, you let your eyes shut.

It doesn’t take long until Tom realizes that you’ve grow still in his arms. “Schatzi? You asleep?” He mumbles gruffly, squeezing your arm. When he gets no response he lets out a little sound that almost sounds like a whine, and buries his face in your neck. Tom can feel the already palpably throbbing sensation below his belt grow. But he doesn’t dare do anything about it. This isn’t the time, he reminds himself. You’re the most important thing to him, he wouldn’t even think about disturbing you right now.

The seconds feel like minutes to him, but Tom makes the most of it. Having you in his arms is all he really needs… but the pulsing of his erection is hard to ignore. He shifts around a bit, oh so careful not to wake you, and presses his face against the back of your neck. Kissing the skin there, to try and distract from the stiffness at his crotch, he groans again. Biting the side of his lip that isn’t pierced, he tries to fill his thoughts with all the lovely things about you. He pets your hair and very quickly realizes that even the most un-explicit things make him squirm.

Slowly rubbing his hand up and down your upper arm, you shift in your sleep. Pressing yourself against his hips, he lets out a little strangled sound. Clutching onto you like his life depends open it as his erection presses up against your body.

It’s a painful, yet exhilarating few minutes of Tom’s huffing breaths and shaking hands on your body. He lets out a moan, one much louder than he anticipated and you find yourself groggily waking up. The first few things you feel as you awaken once more are the warmth of Tom’s body, his heavy breath against your neck and…

“Tom are you hard…?”

His body becomes stiff behind you, his previously panting like breathing becoming hitched.

Tom clears his throat, “How’d you sleep?” He asks, instead of answering. His cheeks completely flushed from embarrassment.

You press against his clothed erection, it’s hard to miss.

“Tom, are you hard?” You ask again, more definitively this time.

He sighs against your shoulder and gulps down a wave of nervous shame, “I didn’t want to wake you,” Tom mumbles. He lets out a shaky little sigh and presses his face against your shoulder.

“Cute.” You giggle as you turn around to look at him.

Tom blushes and looks down at you nervously,“What..?”

“That’s cute.” You clarify, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling your chests flush. He wraps his arms around your body. Feeling you settle against him, he grows antsy to fix the… lingering problem downstairs.

“Um… hey..” He mumbles as he traces his hand down your back.

“Oh! Right, right,” You say, kissing Tom’s cheek before you duck beneath the sheets.

“Fuck—“



[hollowed-theory-hall]

i remember you mentioned Harry loves spending time with Diary bc of his connection with Voldemort (or i think so) but what about Voldemort in his head? does he loves it or not? i also think after death-and-rebirth he kinda feel more lighter and even sad about it

Like, it's canon Harry likes to just hold the diary becouse he feels drawn to it, even before knowing how it works:

Harry couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he didn’t just throw Riddle’s diary away. The fact was that even though he knew the diary was blank, he kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it were a story he wanted to finish. And while Harry was sure he had never heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Riddle was a friend he’d had when he was very small, and had half-forgotten. But this was absurd. He’d never had friends before Hogwarts, Dudley had made sure of that.

(CoS, Ch13)

That's an actual quote from the book.

Also, later on, Tom has to literally spell out that he's Voldemort because Harry was just completely unwilling to accept that his new BFF Tom who he might have a baby crush on is evil:

“Tom — Tom Riddle?” Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face. “What d’you mean, she won’t wake?” Harry said desperately. “She’s not — she’s not — ?” “She’s still alive,” said Riddle. “But only just.” [...] “Are you a ghost?” Harry said uncertainly. “A memory,” said Riddle quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.” He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Harry [...] For a second, Harry wondered how it had got there — but there were more pressing matters to deal with. “You’ve got to help me, Tom,” Harry said, raising Ginny’s head again. “We’ve got to get her out of here. There’s a basilisk . . . I don’t know where it is, but it could be along any moment. . . . Please, help me —” Riddle didn’t move. [...] But his wand had gone. “Did you see — ?” He looked up. Riddle was still watching him — twirling Harry’s wand between his long fingers. “Thanks,” said Harry, stretching out his hand for it. A smile curled the corners of Riddle’s mouth. He continued to stare at Harry, twirling the wand idly. “Listen,” said Harry urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny’s dead weight. “We’ve got to go! If the basilisk comes —” “It won’t come until it is called,” said Riddle calmly. [...] “What d’you mean?” he said. “Look, give me my wand, I might need it —” Riddle’s smile broadened. “You won’t be needing it,” he said. Harry stared at him. “What d’you mean, I won’t be — ?” “I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter,” said Riddle. “For the chance to see you. To speak to you.” “Look,” said Harry, losing patience, “I don’t think you get it. We’re in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later —” “We’re going to talk now,” said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry’s wand. Harry stared at him. There was something very funny going on here. . . .

(CoS, Ch17)

Like, it takes Harry forever to get to the realization something is wrong even though Tom steals his wand and says mysterious evil shit because Harry was so desperate to keep Tom as his friend.

I mentioned here, how Harry does like his mental connection to Voldemort in DH in a way because it gives him a sense of purpose.

Harry is the one to decide they should be wearing the locket after he sensed life from it:

“Can you feel it, though?” Ron asked in a hushed voice, as he held it tight in his clenched fist. “What d’you mean?” Ron passed the Horcrux to Harry. After a moment or two, Harry thought he knew what Ron meant. Was it his own blood pulsing through his veins that he could feel, or was it something beating inside the locket, like a tiny metal heart? “What are we going to do with it?” Hermione asked. “Keep it safe till we work out how to destroy it,” Harry replied, and, little though he wanted to, he hung the chain around his own neck, dropping the locket out of sight beneath his robes, where it rested against his chest beside the pouch Hagrid had given him.

(DH, Ch14)

He's also the one of the trio that insists they should be wearing the locket even after they learn of it's effects, while Hermione suggests that maybe they really shouldn't:

“Hmm,” said Hermione, looking down at the heavy gold locket. “Well, maybe we ought not to wear it. We can just keep it in the tent.” “We are not leaving that Horcrux lying around,” Harry stated firmly. “If we lose it, if it gets stolen — ”

(DH, Ch15)

Ron is also against wearing Horcruxes, while Harry didn't seem to mind keeping the cup in his pocket:

Harry pulled the Horcrux from the pocket of the wet jacket he had just taken off and set it down on the grass in front of them. Glinting in the sun, it drew their eyes as they swigged their bottles of juice. “At least we can’t wear it this time, that’d look a bit weird hanging around our necks,” said Ron, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

(DH, Ch27)

So, yeah, I think Harry definitely could feel his connection to Tom and the various Horcruxes.

I do think, once he comes back to life, he feels emptier, like a part of him is gone in a way. He'd feel lighter like a weight was taken off his shoulders, but I think he'd also feel off and aimless. I talked about it more here.

It's why I think Harry should've gone back for 8th year, I think getting his NEWTs and the familiar environment at Hogwarts would do him good after everything. Give my boy a break.

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 5)

Summary: You don't understand why you're unsettled by your seemingly perfect life with Tommy until the family gathers together at Christmas.

Author's Note: There's one more part to come!

Warnings: pregnancy, flashbacks

Part 4

Tommy wrapped his strong arms around your waist and hips protectively, placing a kiss to your midsection. "You're perfect," he praised against the slight swell of your stomach, voice muffled in the plush velvet of your gown.

You stroked the shorn sides of his head and down his neck in slow, soothing strokes. However, the gesture was mostly to calm yourself. Unsure if it were the hormones or the house full of relatives waiting downstairs for Christmas dinner, your body hummed with nervous energy.

Sensing the slight tremor in your hands, Tommy placed his palm over your fingertips to still you as he murmured. "It's going to be different this time."

Pulling back from him, you stared intently into his crystal blue eyes. "What do you mean, Tom?"

Growing serious, he stood to meet your eyes, cupping your face in his palm as he instructed, "You're to look after yourself. Follow the doctor's orders to stay home and avoid exertion." He stressed the last part and you bit your lip as you nodded slowly in understanding.

“Yes, I know. The dizzy spells..." Looking away from him shamefully you added, "I know I shouldn’t have been on the stairs when I was unwell.” You recited the words you’d been told repeatedly since your hospital stay to prove you'd listened to the advice, even when it left a bitter taste on your tongue.

"That's my girl," Tommy beamed, offering his arm to escort you downstairs. "Now shall we announce the good news?" he asked jovially.

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

The shouts of congratulations had barely died down when Frances appeared with a message. "Sir Mosley is on the line, Mr. Shelby," she informed your husband quietly.

A look of bewilderment crossing your face, you objected, "But it's Christmas!"

"I won't be long. Open the champagne," Tommy said placing a kiss to your temple. Watching him stride away to his office, Ada distracted you by asking, "Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?"

"I hadn't thought about it," you admitted, fidgeting with your wedding rings.

"If Polly were here we wouldn't be having this discussion at all, would we?" Ada joked with a wistful laugh.

An inebriated John threw his hand up in protest. "Pol didn't always know best," he interjected. "Remember when we had the twins, Es? Two boys she said!" As he turned to his wife, you found yourself drifting from their conversation, eyes wandering across the hall toward your husband.

Watching him absently swirling the whisky in his glass, a sense of deja vu struck you like a bolt of lightning and your limbs suddenly froze. Your eyes slowly swept from his hand to his face as a distant voice echoed in your head like a faded record. "Pol didn't always know best. She wanted me to make an honest woman of ya... I wish I'd just gone on paying you for it."

You inhaled a sharp breath as a rush of memory came over you all at once. You felt your pulse quicken, heart knocking against your ribs as you recalled Tommy's humiliation of you in the parlor followed by a frantic rush to pack and then the confrontation on the stairs. Doubling over, you clutched the back of the sofa to conceal your unsteadiness. However, you couldn’t hide the look of horror in your eyes as you relived every hateful word, stomach lurching with the final memory of crashing down the stairs. "Even if you die, you die mine."

"Y/n? Are you alright?" Ada asked, touching your forearm gently.

"Just a bit dizzy," you mumbled the half truth.

"Oh, that's right. Your condition. Have you found anything that helps?" she asked, viewing you with sisterly concern.

"I think I know what to do about it now," you said, cutting your eyes back at Tommy and feeling the spite grow within you.

Part 6

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

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[kittysarchive]

Peeping Tom, Sunoo

*perv sunoo

He held in moans in. Teeth clenched shut, fisting his cock in his hand. Through the ajar door, you lay there in your prime. Touching yourself, fully naked, fingering off to a porn video.

Being brought to the family, he pushed away the thought of being step siblings, right now he needed to cum.

Holding it in, he held a tight grip on his cock. Tears sliding down, he couldn't hold any longer. How were you still going? Home alone with you, he hoped no one came early, seeing him jerk outside you bedroom door. Hearing you slow down, he prepared to release with you.

"I know your there Sunoo" His heart thumped. His name pulsed in is head. Did.....Did you know he was there. Hearing a groan and a creak of the bed, he quickly pulled his pants up, trying to walk away. Feeling a grasp on his shirt, he was yanked backwards.

"Did you think I would let you run off with what you heard? Run off to jerk off?" You laughed, still naked as you pulled him into your room, locking the door. Sunoo stood their frozen. Face red as his eyes stared at your body.

"I...." Sunoo stumbled to find the words. He wanted to fuck you so badly, he wanted to cum so badly but most of all, he wanted to hide badly. Laughing, you approached his trembling form. Gripping his jaw, you leaned in for a kiss.

Unable to kiss back, you lips danced on his. Pushing his body closer to yours, his lips started to dance with you. Pulling away, you smiled. Kneeling down, in front of his bulge.

"The video I was watching......Was a blow job" Your eyes travel to his. Sunoo gulps hard. Then....why were you ouching yourself? Not wanting to ask that, Sunoo feels your soft hands slide his pants down.

"W-what are you doing?" He hands landed on yours, stopping you from going further.

"You obviously want something...Luckily for you I learned a new skill today" You push his hands away, forcing his boxer down. Pulsing, leaky tipped and in need of a release, your mouth latched onto his head.

"H-Holy shit" Sunoo cried out, feeling your lips on his shaft. Sucking in tightly, he threw his head back. Hands squeezing his pulsing cock, you took in more of his length. Sucking harshly as you bopped your head up and down.

Sunoo had never....done anything like this before. But your lips felt so familiar on his shaft, like they belonged there. Gagging slightly, you popped from his mouth, licking him like a lollipop.

Sunoo's eye shut tightly, he couldn't hold back. Your mouth re placed itself on his head when he came. Having to quickly swallow it, you pushed your head further down his shaft, not wanting any to slip out.

"No...." Sunoo cried out. Yes he was dying to cum but he didn't want this to end.

"No...." He repeated as you unlatched your mouth from his member, wiping your lips clean as you stood up.

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Dark Side

Tom Riddle X Reader

Tom is aware you have come from a school where the dark arts are taught. He knows you can help him and he knows just how to convince you

Warnings: slight manipulation, dark arts

The restricted section of the library was quiet. Tom watched you scan the shelves, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You were so focused, so intent on finding something in these dusty old shelves. He knew what you were searching for, even if you didn’t know it yourself yet. Power. Knowledge that Hogwarts would never hand over to you willingly.

He let the silence stretch before stepping forward, making sure his footsteps were just loud enough to be heard. Predictably, you spun around, masking the flicker of surprise in your eyes almost as quickly as it appeared. A good sign. You were sharp, quicker than most, but Tom wasn’t worried about that. If anything, it made this more interesting.

"Looking for something forbidden, are we?" he murmured, keeping his voice low, watching you like a hawk. He saw the slight shift in your expression, the hint of wariness. Perfect. You were already on guard, already trying to figure him out. Good, he thought. Be curious. That’ll make this so much easier.

“Tom,” you replied, your tone carefully neutral. “Didn’t expect anyone else here.”

He smiled, just enough to put you off balance. “Ah, yes. You wouldn’t,” he replied smoothly, moving in closer, careful to make his steps calm, unthreatening. He had a knack for knowing when to press in and when to pull back, a skill that had already gotten him access to more knowledge than any other student his age. This was no different.

As he approached, he let his gaze drift to the book you’d picked up, one you’d clearly grabbed on impulse. The wrong choice, but he’d let you realize that on your own. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, amusement in his voice. "Interesting choice,” he said lightly. “But I’d think someone with your background would be interested in… other texts.”

He saw the faint flicker of unease in your eyes, the way you adjusted your grip on the book. So, he thought with a flash of satisfaction, it’s true. Your dark arts training didn’t fade as quickly as Dumbledore had hoped. He watched your expression carefully, knowing that his mention of your past would strike a nerve. It always did. People who came from the darker schools always felt that edge of suspicion in places like Hogwarts, the feeling of being an outsider, of hiding something.

“Maybe I am,” you replied, cool but not defensive. Not bad, he thought. You were trying to keep him at a distance, trying to keep control of the conversation. But you wouldn’t last long. He’d made sure of that.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he said, a hint of intrigue in his voice. He let his tone stay casual, almost amused, but not enough to hide the curiosity in his eyes. He’d learned early on that interest was a powerful tool; people always responded to the thrill of being noticed. “But Hogwarts might not have what you’re used to. Not openly, anyway.” He watched you closely, seeing the way his words drew you in. “Still, you know the things taught where you are from aren’t forgotten here. If anything, they’re just… hidden better.”

The way you studied him then, the hint of resistance, it was clear you weren’t going to give in easily. He almost smirked. Good, he thought, his pulse quickening. It’s always more interesting when they resist.

“And why are you so interested in my old curriculum?” you asked, your voice still light, but he could hear the guarded edge.

He leaned back a little, letting his posture go easy, almost dismissive, knowing how much more effective that would be than anything intense. “Oh, I’m not interested in that,” he said, shrugging slightly. “I’m interested in you.” He let that sink in, watching as the idea took root. “A student who actually knows what magic can do beyond the harmless charms and tricks we’re taught here. I’d think you know spells and techniques that others couldn’t even imagine.” He paused, just long enough to watch your expression shift. “Which, naturally, would make you quite valuable.”

Valuable. That word always worked. It was true, after all, though not in the way you might have thought. Tom’s mind was already racing, already calculating how he might use what you knew, what you dark school had taught you. And the best part was that you wanted this power, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it to yourself. That hunger—it was just under the surface, buried behind all the polite airs and restraint you wore. He’d seen it in the way you looked at certain spells in class, the ones that made the others shrink back in fear. He knew exactly how to draw that side of you out.

“Valuable?” You raised an eyebrow, keeping your tone casual. “And you think you’re the one to show me how?”

He almost laughed. Predictable, he thought. You wanted to believe you could see through him, that you weren’t impressed. But he could see it in your eyes, that flicker of curiosity. He tilted his head, letting his gaze sharpen, his expression just serious enough to make you feel like he was seeing something no one else could. “I think you have a potential that most at this school couldn’t even comprehend. Power that few would understand.” He paused, as if measuring his words carefully. “You could accomplish so much, if only you'd... let go of certain reservations.”

He watched as your expression shifted, and he knew he’d struck a chord. Yes, he thought, his pulse quickening again. Let that sink in. It was always the first step. Plant the seed, make them doubt their limitations. After that, it was only a matter of time before they came to him willingly, before they were willing to do anything he suggested.

“I know you don’t believe in the rules, not really,” he continued, his voice calm and coaxing. “And Hogwarts isn’t giving you what you need. Not truly. They’re holding you back, but you’re far too intelligent to let the Ministry’s silly morals stand in your way.”

He could almost see the thoughts racing in your mind, the way you were weighing his words, considering the possibility of everything he was offering. Yes, he thought, pleased. Think about it. Let it fester.

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii! this request is based off of ur last one but can u pls do one where reader and tom are at a club or whatever and yn is the one getting rlly drunk and tom has to look after her 😭

love ur stuff btw baby, ur an awesome writer

TAKE CARE OF YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after you get a little more drunk than expected, it’s up to tom to take care of you - but you aren’t making it easy for him.

content: fluff

a/n: thankyou so much, i hope you like it!!

“baby, don’t you think you’ve had enough of that?” tom asks, reaching over and attempting to take the drink out of my hands. i quickly move away, shaking my head and putting the straw to my lips, the taste burning my throat as i swallow the liquid, the feeling only fuelling my excitement, a low buzz swelling my insides as all i want to do is smile.

the music pulses through my eardrums, lights flashing around the club as people messily dance to the beat whilst tom and i watch from a sofa tucked away in the corner, his arm loosely wrapped around my shoulder, his thumb stroking the bare skin, the spaghetti straps of my small black dress providing next to no coverage. our friends were somewhere within the crowd, tom not feeling like joining in, which meant that, much to my annoyance, i was stuck with him. he refused to leave my side the whole night, his protectiveness only increasing once i started to get a little tipsy.

i was now far beyond the point of being just a little bit hazy - i couldn’t even count how many drinks i’d had anymore, the alcohol pumping through my system the only thing on my mind, not considering tom’s growing worry as i become even more wasted.

“pleaseeee can we go dance?” i beg, looking upwards at him and trying my best to convince him, planting a small kiss on his neck as he sighs, looking downwards at me, shaking his head slowly.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea, you’ve had way too much to drink schatz. i’m only trying to look out for you.” he replies gently, placing a small kiss on my forehead and tightening his hold on me. my shaky hand reaches for the tray of shots in the middle of the table, grabbing whichever one was closest to me, not caring what was in it - i just wanted it in my system.

“love…” tom starts, trying to stop me from taking it, leaning forward and placing both his hands on my shoulders.

i move away from his touch, downing the liquid and feeling it run down my throat before he can stop me, shivering slightly at it’s bitter taste. “stop treating me…like a fucking kid tom. let me have a drink and just, loosen up a little for fucks sake.” i slur, my words harsh as i roll my eyes and turn to him, his face slightly hurt, lips parted.

“i’m just trying to take care of you liebe, stop fighting with me.” he replies calmly, attempting to pull me back into his embrace, leaning backwards into the sofa.

“i’m going to dance.” i mumble, standing up as my body sways slightly, showing how wasted i really am. not giving tom any time to try stop me, i quickly walk towards the dance floor, though i hear him calling my name, the music soon drowning out his voice once i near the crowd of drunken bodies, beginning to sway my hips to the music. a grin takes over my expression, my arms swaying freely in the air, the alcohol controlling my every move. my head throbs, my body becoming sweaty, yet i tune it out, focusing only on the music, until i feel two strong arms wrap their way around my waist, their hold slightly foreign.

i turn around, expecting to see tom, but the deep blue eyes that are staring into mine take me aback, my hands roughly trying to pull his grip off of my waist with little success, the alcohol taking away the small strength that i had.

“get the fuck off of me! are you crazy?” i say, trying to sound as sober as i can, but my words are almost incoherent, the guy chuckling at my struggles.

“don’t be like that. what’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, hm?” he asks, his hold on me only tightening as i begin to feel like a complete idiot for not listening to tom. if i had just stayed with him and appreciated his efforts to keep me safe, then i wouldn’t be in this situation.

“i have a boyfriend fuck off-” i begin, but my voice is soon cut off by the guy being roughly pulled away from me, all too familiar black braids soon coming into my view.

“you ever touch my girlfriend again and i swear to fucking god i will kill you.” tom threatens, holding the guy’s shirt until he scoffs, letting him go and watching him walk away.

tom’s attention soon turns to me, pulling me closer to him, holding my shoulders whilst he frantically checks my body, looking for any signs that the guy had hurt me. his eyes are glassy, lips parted as ragged breaths escape from them, his hold on me strong, yet he makes sure to not hurt me, attempting to study my expression. all that is clear to see is that i am wasted, my eyes empty, not even completely processing what has just happened, my mind only longing to carry on dancing.

“are you okay baby? did he hurt you?” he asks, sighing in relief when i shake my head, quickly pulling my body into his, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and refusing to let go.

“i’m fine tom, i promise.” i say, genuinely telling the truth.

“we’re leaving now. and don’t try fight me on it, okay?” he asserts, taking my hand in his and leading me out of the bar, my walking all over the place as the alcohol is still strong in my system.

despite what had just happened, i long to be back in there, tugging tom’s arm slightly, causing him to stop and turn around, waiting for me to speak.

“can we stay? just a little longer, please tom?” i plead, pulling him towards me slightly before he reaches the doors. his eyebrows furrow, confused at my question as if i had asked something completely crazy, because to him, i had.

“really? you want to stay, even after all that? you really are absolutely shitfaced.” he replied, lacing his fingers in mine once again. “we’re going home, it’s not safe for you to be here, not when you’re this drunk.”

“you’re so boring tom.” i mumble, having no choice but to leave with him, my body too weak to put up a fight, knowing that he would win and be able to carry me out of the club, which was an option too embarrassing for me to consider, even in this state.

“if wanting to keep my girlfriend safe makes me boring then fine, whatever baby.” tom sighs, opening the doors as the cold immediately hits me, the night bringing on a chilling breeze as the dress i am wearing gives me practically no warmth. i let go of tom’s hand, trying to warm myself up by wrapping my arms around my frame. tom picks up on this, taking off his oversized black jacket and slowly placing it on me, threading my arms through the material and holding my hand once again.

“better?” he asks.

i nod my head, not bothering to think of a quick remark, the throbbing in my head only increasing as the high i was on begins to wear off, leaving a nauseous feeling to spread in the bit of my stomach.

he guides me to his car, opening the door for me and gently placing me in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt and stretching it around my tired frame.

“you okay?” he asks, his hand resting on the end of my seat to hold himself up as his upper body hovers over me from putting my seatbelt on, his brown eyes looking into mine. i nod my head, and he smiles, pecking my lips slowly before bending down to climb out of the car, walking over to the drivers side and hopping in. his hand rests on my thigh, his thumb comfortingly grazing over the soft skin, his other on the wheel as he pulls out, driving home through the empty streets, the early hours of the morning dawning over us.

my eyes falling shut, on the brink of falling asleep, i feel a strong grip lift me from the car, tom using his hands to wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me inside. he slips my heels off whilst still holding me, my head resting on his shoulder. he takes his own shoes off, placing his keys on the table and walking us upstairs.

“tom?” i say, my words muffled into his t-shirt, his jacket still draped over me.

“hm?” he says, moving one of his hands to rub my back.

“i don’t feel too good.” i admit, feeling the urge to throw up as he gets the hint, carrying me into the bathroom and switching the light on. he quickly sets me down as i hunch over the toilet, finally releasing the alcohol from my system. he holds my hair in his hand in a makeshift ponytail, using the other hand to comfortingly rub my back.

“you’re okay, i’m here.” he whispers, bent down beside me as i practically throw my guts up, regret quickly taking over as i wish that i hadn’t drank as much as i did.

i lift my head upwards, feeling completely sober now, tom looking at me sympathetically. he opens his arms for me as i fall into them, wrapping my arms around his torso.

“i’m sorry.” i mumble into him.

“why are you sorry baby?” he asks, running his hands through my hair, brushing out the knots the best he can.

“you’ve had to take care of me the whole night and now i’ve just thrown up and it’s all my fault!” i complain, my eyes welling up as i find myself becoming strangely emotional.

“don’t be sorry my love, that’s what i’m here for.” he begins, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “now let’s get you ready for bed, yeah? you must be exhausted.”

i nod my head as he pulls me upwards, walking me into our bedroom. i fall into bed, completely drained, not caring that my makeup is still on, or that i’m still in my dress. tom however, does, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently lifting me upwards.

“not yet, come on let’s get this off.” he says, pointing to my dress.

“you do it.” i mutter, too tired to even form complete sentence.

he nods, turning me around so that my back is facing him. his hand reaches for the zipper, pulling it downwards slowly, moving the straps off of my shoulders and getting up, grabbing one of his t-shirts and some fresh underwear for me. he pulls the dress off me and folds it neatly, putting it to the side.

“lift up.” he says, and i obey, allowing him to put his t-shirt on me. the material hangs from my frame, reaching my knees. he passes me my panties, and i put them on lethargically, my body almost passing out in exhaustion. tom gets up, saying nothing and walking to the bathroom, coming back with some makeup wipes.

“you go to sleep baby, i’ll do the rest.” he softly says as i fall backwards into the sheets, feeling him gently wipe the makeup from my face, making sure that he gets everything off, taking extra care to not apply too much pressure and hurt me. he puts the used makeup wipes in the trash, my body on the verge of falling asleep. he takes his clothes off, climbing into bed in his boxers and pulling me closer to him.

“thank you for taking care of me. i love you.” i whisper, my eyes still closed.

“i’ll always be here to look after you. even when you don’t want me to be.” he chuckles, kissing my forehead.

i smile, snuggling closer to him as he wraps his arms around my waist.

“goodnight schatz. i love you.” he says, his voice the last thing i hear before i fall asleep.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 7

SUMMARY: As the final day of filming wraps, Glen takes a chance and asks you to be his date to the cast and crew’s wrap party. Dressed to impress, you both arrive together, careful to keep things discreet—at least at first. But as the night progresses, it’s harder to hide the growing connection between you. A shared dance on the floor, lingering touches, and knowing glances from friends make it clear: something special is blossoming between you and Glen.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I

PART 6

WARNINGS: Implied alcohol consumption. Otherwise just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The hair and makeup trailer is a quiet refuge as the last day on set winds down. You’re tidying up your station, placing brushes in their designated slots, and wiping down surfaces. There’s a bittersweet feeling in the air; it’s been an intense few weeks, and while you’re proud of the work you’ve done, a part of you is reluctant to see it end.

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear the door open, and your pulse quickens when you see Glen stepping inside. He’s still in his flight suit, hair tousled from the day’s scenes, with that familiar, easy grin that seems to brighten the room.

“Hey,” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning casually against the counter. “Got a minute?”

You nod, smiling as you tuck a few stray tools back into your kit. “What’s up?”

“Tom and the producers are throwing a wrap party tonight. Rented out a restaurant for the cast and crew.” He pauses, his gaze holding yours a little longer than usual. “I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.”

A soft smile forms on your lips. “Like… as your date?”

Glen’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint you’ve come to know so well. He nods. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

You don’t even need to think about your answer. “I’d love to.”

He steps closer, that playful look softening as he gazes down at you. “Perfect,” he murmurs, and before you know it, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The warmth of his touch and the light pressure of his lips make you forget everything else for a moment.

When he pulls back, he’s still smiling, his fingers lingering near yours. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

* * * *

The hotel room is quiet as you stand in front of the mirror, putting the final touches on your makeup. You smooth down the fabric of your dress—a simple but elegant piece you’d packed, just in case. The soft, flattering lines and deep color bring a touch of glamour that feels perfect for tonight.

As you swipe on a final layer of lipstick, a knock sounds at the door. Heart fluttering, you cap the lipstick and head over to answer. When you open the door, there stands Glen, leaning casually with a warm smile. His outfit—a pair of gray dress pants and a fitted black button-up shirt—compliments his relaxed confidence, and there’s an appreciative gleam in his eye as he looks you over.

“Wow,” he says, letting his gaze linger. “You look stunning. That dress suits you.”

You feel a blush creep up, smiling back as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Shall we?” He motions towards the hallway with a little nod, stepping aside so you can lead the way. You gather your small clutch and step out, feeling a flutter of excitement as he falls into step beside you. 

* * * *

The restaurant buzzes with the sounds of laughter and conversation, as cast and crew mingle in small groups throughout the softly lit space. You and Glen step inside, the warmth and lively atmosphere instantly welcoming you in. Heads turn your way, and you’re aware of a few knowing glances exchanged between people as you both walk through the entrance together. Even though there’s no hand-holding or any outward display of affection, the energy between you and Glen seems to say it all.

Glen catches a few of those looks and smirks, clearly amused, but he doesn’t let on as he leans close and murmurs, “I’m going to grab a drink. You want anything?”

You tell him your order, a casual smile exchanged as he nods and makes his way to the bar, blending into the crowd with ease. 

As he goes, you take a breath, willing yourself to stay composed despite the subtle attention. It feels surreal to be here with him like this, even if things are still discreet.

Spotting a group of your colleagues from the hair and makeup team near the far side of the room, you make your way over to them. They greet you with warm smiles, already in the middle of discussing the wrap party and the relief of finally reaching the end of a long, demanding shoot.

One of them nudges you playfully. “You and Glen, huh?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

You manage to keep your smile relaxed, laughing it off. “Oh, we just rode over together,” you reply casually. “Just figured we’d save on an extra ride, you know?”

They nod knowingly, exchanging glances with one another, but they don’t press the subject further. You’re grateful for that. You settle into the conversation, chatting and catching up, feeling yourself start to unwind. Across the room, you catch sight of Glen waiting at the bar, glancing back your way with a small smile that makes your heart skip.

It’s a small, private look just between the two of you—one that makes you feel like the only two people in the room, even if you’re playing it low-key for now.

Glen weaves through the crowd with two glasses in hand, his gaze focused on you. When he reaches your side, he hands you your drink with a warm smile, his fingers brushing yours briefly. You murmur a thank you, taking a sip as he joins the small circle of your coworkers.

With that effortless charm, he thanks the hair and makeup team, nodding to each of them with genuine appreciation. “Really, we couldn’t have done any of this without you,” he says, glancing around at everyone. “The work you all do—the attention to detail, the early mornings—it’s all part of what makes everything come together.”

One of them, Linda, nudges you with a teasing smile, saying, “Well, we’ll miss you too, Glen. It’s a shame filming’s wrapped up. We won’t be able to keep you looking so good on set anymore.” Her eyes flick between you and Glen with a hint of suggestion, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Glen doesn’t miss a beat. He chuckles, glancing sideways at you. You feel a slight blush rise to your cheeks, unable to suppress a smile as Glen’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer. 

Your colleagues exchange a few sly glances among themselves, clearly picking up on the connection between you and Glen. And while you’re careful to keep things discreet, there’s something thrilling in the unspoken understanding between the two of you.

Just as you and Glen exchange a glance, a voice over the restaurant’s speakers announces that dinner is about to be served. People begin shuffling toward their tables, glancing at place cards to find their seats. Glen leans toward you, just close enough so only you can hear him over the chatter.

“I’ll catch up with you later?” he says softly, his eyes holding yours with a quiet warmth.

You smile, giving him a small nod. “I’ll be here.”

With a grin, he heads off toward the cast table, joining Miles, Lewis, and a few others who are already joking and laughing, welcoming him over with waves and claps on the shoulder. You watch him for just a second, a faint flutter of excitement lingering, before making your way over to your own table with the hair, makeup, and costume team.

Sliding into your seat, you’re greeted with smiles and friendly chatter, everyone buzzing with excitement as the celebratory energy of the evening settles in. You settle into the familiar warmth of your friends and colleagues, sharing stories of the production and laughs over some of the more chaotic days on set, but there’s an undeniable thrill in knowing that, across the room, Glen is watching for his chance to find you again.

As the dinner plates are cleared away and laughter fills the room, the soft background music fades, replaced by something more upbeat. You’re in the middle of a lighthearted conversation at your table when someone clears their throat behind you. Turning, you see Glen standing there, hands in his pockets, his usual grin lighting up his face. He nods toward the makeshift dance floor where a few couples have already started to sway to the music.

“Care to dance?” he asks, his voice soft but playful.

You glance around the room, a mix of excitement and uncertainty washing over you. Your eyes dart to the people still lingering at their tables, wondering if this is a good idea, but Glen catches your hesitation and chuckles, leaning in closer.

“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice low. “Just one dance.”

You feel your heart skip, a smile tugging at your lips as you give a small nod. “Alright. Just one.”

He reaches out, and you slide your hand into his, feeling his fingers close gently around yours as he leads you over to the dance floor. The room fades slightly as he turns to face you, one hand slipping to your waist, the other still holding your hand. You’re close, but just enough to keep it innocent. As you move together, the song fills the air, each beat pulling you a little closer to him, and you can’t help but let out a small, contented laugh as he guides you in time with the music.

“See?” he murmurs, glancing down at you with a soft, teasing smile. “Not so bad, is it?”

You shake your head, the laughter still in your voice. “Not bad at all.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and the rest of the room falls away—nothing but Glen’s steady gaze, his hand at your waist, and the gentle sway of the music surrounding you.

As the upbeat song fades into a slower, softer melody, Glen’s arm around your waist tightens just a bit, gently pulling you closer. You feel his chest press against yours, the warmth between you deepening as he bridges the last small gap. Instinctively, your head falls to his shoulder, and for a second, you let yourself melt into the quiet, intimate moment.

But as you open your eyes, you catch sight of a few colleagues at the edge of the dance floor, glancing over with raised eyebrows and soft, knowing smiles. A wave of nervousness ripples through you, and you lift your head, glancing up at Glen, who’s still looking at you with a gentle, contented smile.

“People are watching,” you murmur, searching his eyes.

He lets out a quiet, almost mischievous chuckle, his gaze steady. “I know,” he replies, unfazed, his voice low and calm.

You hesitate, studying his expression. “Aren’t you worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, still holding you close, his thumb brushing gently over your back. “Not really,” he says, the warmth in his eyes sincere. “I’ve spent half of filming pretending like I don’t want to be this close to you. Now, I just want to enjoy spending time with you.”

The conviction in his words settles any lingering nerves you have, and a smile finds its way onto your face. With the music wrapping around you, you let yourself sink back into the dance, resting your head against his shoulder once more. This time, you don’t care about the glances or whispers; it’s just you and Glen, lost in the music, letting the rest of the room fade away.

As the night winds down, you find yourself caught up in a lively conversation with Miles Teller and his wife, Keleigh. Miles is recounting some of his favorite memories from the shoot, and Keleigh is laughing, chiming in with her own playful commentary. You’re fully immersed in the moment when you suddenly feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Before you can react, an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into a familiar embrace. You glance up and see Glen beside you, a soft smile on his face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as he nods toward the door. “You ready to head out?”

You smile back, a warmth spreading through you as you nod. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

You both turn to say your goodbyes to Miles and Keleigh, who give you knowing smiles as they wave you off. Miles raises his glass in a silent toast, and Keleigh winks, her gaze flicking between you and Glen.

Glen reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you out of the party. As you step out into the night, the hum of the party fades behind you, leaving just the quiet sounds of the city around you. Glen glances down, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand as he holds it tightly.

Walking side by side, there’s a feeling of contentment, a quiet excitement that lingers between you. With every step, you feel the weight of the evening’s shared glances, the unspoken promises, and the joy of finally being able to enjoy each other’s company openly. As you head back to the hotel together, it feels like the perfect end to the night—and the beginning of something even better.

[nanamincreampie]

Dormmate Geto part 2

Geto Suguru x Black plus size reader

( part 1) (part3)

Warnings: mutual masterbation, voyeurism (kinda), nipple play ( small mentioned), fingering, jerking off, Suguru being a peeping tom, mentions of teasing and begging

Later that day, you both decide to make lasagna for dinner. You sent out Geto to grab some missing ingredients, and when he returned, he was ready to dive into the meal prep. But as soon as he stepped inside, he froze. There you were, curled up on the couch, shoulders hunched and silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

He dropped the bags and came to your side in an instant, his voice soft and full of concern. “Hey… what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting down beside you. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks and whispering shakily that your date had just called to break up with you.

“He said…he was only using me for my body,” you choked out, averting your eyes. “He said…all he saw was that.”

Geto’s fists clenched, but he softened his expression as he took your hands gently in his. “I don’t know how anyone could say something so cruel,” he murmured, his gaze warm and unwavering. “You’re…you’re incredible. Every part of you.”

You sniffled, looking up at him, and he continued. “Your eyes,” he began, voice tender but unshaken, “they have this light to them, like you’re seeing the best parts of people… even when they don’t deserve it.” He squeezed your hand gently, his gaze roaming over you with a mix of admiration and appreciation. “Your body…all of it…is beautiful. Your thighs, soft and strong.” He let his hand graze your arm, lingering just a bit, his touch reverent. “And that gorgeous ass that just makes me lose my focus every time you walk in the room.” His voice dropped, deep and low. “Your skin…” He let his fingers trail along your shoulder, admiring the contrast of his hand against your warm, rich tone. “It glows. I’ve never met anyone like you, someone who makes the world feel… brighter.”

For a moment, you both were quiet, lost in each other’s gaze, until he leaned forward, heart pounding, and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. You gasped lightly against him, and he pulled back for a split second, staring at you in wonder before he leaned in again, deepening the kiss. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth moved with yours, slow and intoxicating, a mix of tenderness and barely-contained passion.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, faces flushed and eyes wide. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a flustered, “Uh, maybe we… should focus on the lasagna?”

Geto nodded, chuckling nervously. “Yeah… yeah, definitely.”

The kitchen felt warmer than usual as you both worked on the lasagna, and every time your hands brushed or your shoulders touched, it was like a spark reignited. The tension was thick, almost electric. His hand would linger on the countertop where yours rested, and whenever you reached across him, he’d pause, catching the faintest whiff of your scent that left his pulse racing.

Dinner was delicious, but neither of you spoke about the kiss. After you both said goodnight, Geto lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the kiss replaying in his mind over and over. He couldn’t shake the feeling of your lips, the warmth of your skin, and the look in your eyes after he’d pulled away.

He shifted restlessly, letting out a sigh. “Did I go too far?” he murmured to himself, remembering the vulnerability in your eyes as you’d opened up to him, only for him to…well, kiss you.

But it hadn’t just been some impulsive reaction. He’d been wanting to do that for longer than he’d admit to anyone. The thought of you, hurt and doubting your worth, had shaken something loose inside him. And as much as he tried to reason it all away, the feeling of your hand in his, the softness of your lips—it all left him wide awake, heart still pounding.

What if I made her uncomfortable?

A touch of regret creeping in, mingled with longing.

But somewhere in the mess of thoughts, a small hope flickered. He wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you had felt it too.

Geto returned home earlier than usual, his lecture ending much sooner than expected. He relished the thought of having some quiet time to himself but was caught off guard when he heard soft moans drifting from the hallway. Curiosity piqued, he followed the sounds, slowly making his way to your room, the door slightly ajar. His heart raced as he realized the moans were unmistakably yours.

Inside your room, you had your back against the plush headboard, one hand buried between your thighs, fingers moving in a rhythmic dance, coaxing yourself toward that sweet release. Your other hand fondled your breast, teasing your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. The sight was nothing short of mesmerizing. The way your hips moved with each delicate stroke, your skin glistening under the warm light, made Geto’s mouth go dry, the tension coiling tighter within him with every sound that escaped your lips.

As you moaned out, “Geto, please,” it ignited a fire in him, pure and uncontrollable. He was helpless to the urge that overtook him, his body responding before his mind could catch up. His hands instinctively pulled down his pants as he started to stroke himself, trying to match the pace of your fingers, every glide a desperate attempt to connect with you in the only way he could. Thoughts of what you looked like, how your body felt under his hands, and the taste of your skin swirled in his mind, making it difficult to think straight.

He imagined your soft thighs wrapped around his waist, the warmth of your skin against his as he teased you. He envisioned lowering his head, kissing along the insides of your thighs, inching closer to your entrance, the sweet scent of your arousal intoxicating him. His mouth would find you, teasing your most sensitive spots with tantalizing flicks of his tongue while you squirmed beneath him, begging for more. “Please, Geto… don’t tease me,” you would whimper, your voice a breathy plea that sent shivers down his spine.

The way your thighs squeezed together, the curve of your ass pressed against the fabric of your shorts, and the swell of your tummy as you arched your back was absolutely intoxicating. Each moan pushed him closer to the edge, his pace quickening as he imagined himself thrusting deep inside you, your soft skin melding with his, your breathy gasps mingling with his own. “I want you, Geto… need you,” you would cry out, your words igniting the heat pooling in his core.

“God, I want to taste you,” he muttered under his breath, envisioning how you’d writhe and moan, how your body would respond to him, arching into his touch as he took you apart with his mouth, every flick of his tongue making you whimper. He could see it so clearly in his mind, your chest heaving, your beautiful eyes rolling back in pleasure, the way your fingers would tangle in his hair as you begged him for release.

With each stroke of his hand, he imagined burying himself inside you, moving in perfect rhythm, your soft cries echoing in his ears as he claimed you completely. The thought was enough to send him spiraling over the edge, a deep, primal grunt escaping his lips as he released against the door, his body trembling with the force of it.

But then, he heard you call out again, a sweet, innocent question that snapped him back to reality. “Geto? Are you home already?” Panic surged through him, and he quickly adjusted his pants, frantically trying to regain his composure.

He rushed back to his room, closing the door behind him just before you could get a glimpse of his flustered state. You stood outside his room for a moment, wondering why he hadn’t come out to greet you. “Geto?” you called again, lightly tapping on the door, but there was no response.

Deciding to turn back to your own room, you felt a strange mix of disappointment and curiosity. Once inside, you let out a sigh and glanced around, your mind lingering on the recent events. But as you moved to close the door, your eyes widened in shock. There, against the surface of your door, was a clear streak of what looks to be cum, his cum, a reminder of the heated moment that had just transpired

[tequilawitholives]

Two Truths One Lie

Smosh: Shayne Topp x Reader

WC: 1.8K

Warnings: A little bit of suggestive(looks n feelings), use of she/her pronouns, Y/N is one of the ogs in smosh, slight fluff if u squint, Y/N is kinda famous

It was a warm day in California when the team chose to make Y/n and Shayne film the video, which they both silently thanked them for. Getting sprayed with ice cold water wouldn't be as harmful with the weather.

"Are you ready to get sprayed to death?" Shayne joked while bumping his shoulder into Y/n who turned to smirk at him.

Y/n only ignored his comment and walked into the studio where Courtney, Amanda and Angela hung out in their stools beside the "game" table.

It was a little intimidating, the guns leaning against the table while a crew member filled them both up with water.

Shayne followed after Y/n into the studio and walked with her to the sound manager who mic'ed them up, connecting their microphone while the two of them clipped the small black electronics onto their clothes.

As they finished with that, the studio manager once again called everyone to their places, checking so that everyone were feeling alright.

Y/n sat down across Shayne, Courtney to her left as she looked down at the cards in front of her.

Before any filming session, Y/n always felt a shock of adrenaline pulse through her veins, as if she felt like any second, her body would explode - which it never did of course.

"And.. Action!" Emily, the director, shouted. The studio turned quiet before Shayne turned to the camera with a dramatic sigh escaping his mouth.

"Welcome, everyone, to another round of Two Truths One Lie. In this game, me and an opponent tell three statements, where two of those statements are truths and the other one a lie." Shayne explained, still in his dramatic voice.

"If my opponent, who is Y/n today, say hi Y/n." He continued

"Hello." Y/n answered shortly, smiling into the camera.

"As I said, if my opponent fails to find my lie, I get to spray her with water, but if she succesfully finds my lie, I get sprayed by her with water."

"I think I put on the wrong clothes for this." Y/n stated, looking down at her outfit, which was a knitted sweater with some grey baggy jeans.

"Atleast you look cute!" Courtney added, making Y/n and Shayne chuckle.

Amanda coughed, glaring at the pair in front of her.

"Oh, right! This is our three watchers. Courtney, Amanda and Angela." Shayne introduced the three women, making them mutter things with annoyance.

"I'm so happy to have gathered boygenius with us today." Y/n joked, making the whole studio laugh at her joke.

"Anyway, would you like to go first?" Shayne asked Y/n who nodded, clearing her throat dramatically.

"Here are my statements. First one. I have been in a relationship with Jeanette McCurdy for an event." Y/n began, making Amanda chuckle a short laugh at the first statement.

"I have kissed Tom Cruise, on the mouth." Shayne's eyes widened at this, not at all ready for this.

"I was in a marching band in Japan when I was fifteen." Y/n said her last statement with a small smile while Shayne stared at Y/n mysteriously, trying to figure out which one is the truth.

"Okay, first statement. When and where was it?" Shayne asked as Y/n put her card down.

"It was at an event, some Nickelodeon event. I don't remember the year but I remember we were talking and I asked if for a joke we should fake a relationship for the whole event and she agreed. Really nice person she is!" Y/n explained while keeping a straight face.

Shayne nodded.

"And the next one? That seems like such a lie but if it's not I'm so jealous of you." He joked, making the trio beside him chuckle.

"Okay, so I got booked into an actual move not too long ago, no clue who was my love interest or anything, but when I arrived to the "love" scenes, there Tom Cruise was. I think it was about seven years ago or so."

The studio was quiet, everyone actually intrigued to hear the whole story, even the trio sat quietly.

"Wow, and do you remember the kiss?" Shayne sarcastically asked, but he actually wanted to know.

"I do, it was a great kiss. I was a nervous wreck but he was so calm and collected and just a nice co-worker to work with." Y/n answered with a soft smile on her face.

"And the third one?"

"As many of you know, I've lived in Japan with my family for a part of my life. And some of you know I also play the clarinet, well played, and I wanted to play it in a marching band so I joined one." Y/n explained, quite easily.

"I think I know the lie." Shayne said quickly with a smirk while Y/n only sat with a soft smile on her face.

"It's the second one, the Tom Cruise one." He continued and Y/n sighed, looking down at the table.

But she quickly grabbed the water gun and sprayed Shayne in the chest with the ice cold water.

"WHAT!?!?!?" Angela shouted while Shayne sat in shock.

"You've actually kissed Tom Cruise?" He asked, eyes wide as he laughed in just pure shock.

"I have! It was some movie, I don't remember but I was the love-interest." Y/n chuckled while putting her gun down, letting it lean against the table.

"Wait so which one was the lie?" Shayne asked, making Y/n smile.

"The marching band one. I moved to Japan when I was fifteen but joined the marching band when I was eightteen because they had an age restriction." Y/n told the group who all made 'aah' noises as an understanding.

"Alright, so my turn. I have eaten a whole tarantula on camera. I have eaten a bull penis on camera. I have eaten surströmming on camera." Shayne said quickly.

"Okay, I know one of these 100%. You did eat a tarantula. It was on Mythical Kitchen. I was there with you but I chickened out and never ate the spider but you did." Y/n thought outloud, looking directly into Shayne's eyes.

Shayne chuckled and smiled, knowing that Y/n was right with that, they both were there.

"Ah, shit. I wasn't on the filming day of the surströmming. I remember it was you and Noah and his two brothers. Shit." Y/n muttered and sighed.

"I think the bull penis one is the lie. You must've eaten some piece of surströmming that day, your fingers smelt like shit after that I remember that." She claimed, making Shayne laugh.

"Are you sure?" Shayne checked with her and she nodded.

"I'm sorry Y/n, but you are very wrong-"

"Shit! No- No please, spare me!" Y/n began shouting as she watched Shayne pull the gun up from his side.

"LET ME TAKE OFF MY SWEATER FIRST PLEASE!" She continued yelling as everyone else laughed their asses off at her reaction.

Shayne let her take her sweater off and so she did.

Y/n unclipped her mic and pulled her sweater off, her t-shirt slightly following with but with the help of Courtney who held the shirt down, she threw the sweater away to the side.

While all of this was happening, Shayne felt his ears turn slightly pink at the sight of Y/n's stomach and a small part of her ribcage.

What was going on with him? He thought, blinking his quiet suggestive thoughts away.

"Okay, I'm ready." Y/n said, now only in a tanktop.

Shayne chuckled and slowly pumped the water gun, making Y/n nervous.

"Shayne! Just do i-" Y/n got interrupted by Shayne shooting water against her stomach, making Y/n jerk in shock.

The studio began laughing in the scene that just happened.

"OW! MY SIX-PACK!" Y/n joked, making the studio continue laughing, even Shayne laughed, his eyes closed as he did.

The studio calmed down and Y/n and Shayne continued the game, Shayne absolutely failing the game, getting completely drenched in water.

After a shot of water was shot against Shayne, Angela began joking about something, distracting the studio and audience of what happened anywhere else.

Y/n took the chance to look at Shayne who focused on Angela.

He had a big part of his t-shirt completely soaked, and Y/n kinda thanked herself for that, because now she could see Shayne's chest.

Her eyes drifted down a little before looking back up, but now on Angela who was still talking about who know's what.

Now it was Shayne's turn to look at Y/n, her tanktop had only gotten a little soaked, only showing some parts of her bra underneath.

Shayne had to control his breathing, his hands tightly knitted together underneath the tablecloth as he felt his ears turn pink again. He had felt Y/n's stare, he wasn't gullible, and damn did it make him feel good.

They continued the game after Angela's rant and finally it ended, ending with Y/n winning quite naturally.

The cameras turned off and the pair of them walked up to the sound manager who they handed their microphones to before walking out from the studio.

"That was fun, really." Y/n began, smiling softly at Shayne who chuckled, looking down at himself.

"Yeah, sure, maybe for you." He sighed dramatically, making Y/n grin while pushing Shayne's shoulder jokingly.

"Oh, shit, I forgot my sweater. Let me go get it." Y/n remembered, running back into the studio and getting the sweater.

As she picked up her sweater, Courtney walked up to her with a small smile.

"I saw you looking at him." She blurted out, making Y/n look up at her with slight wide eyes.

"I-"

"And he was looking at you too, y'know." Courtney said while smirking as she watched Y/n's cheeks turn slightly pink.

"Okay, fine. I was looking at him, he looked hot okay." Y/n sighed, confessing to Courtney who chuckled.

"Don't tell me that, tell it to him." She said while nodding to someone behind Y/n, who turned around to see Shayne stand there with slightly tinted ears.

"Oh-" Y/n said before trying to stutter something about how she did think like that and that it was okay if he didn't feel the same.

"Y/n, would you like to go out with me?" Shayne interrupted her rambling, making her stop in her tracks.

"What?" She asked, flabbergasted.

"Would you like to go out with me?" Shayne asked again, now with a smile on his face.

"Ye-Yeah, that'd be nice." Y/n said, now also with a grin on her face as she watched Shayne nod and walk away.

"Finally! I've waited for that since you both started working here." Courtney groaned, walking away from Y/n who stood there, excitement filling her entire body.

[thewifeoftomriddles]

Prefect!Tom riddle x reader (smut)

Tom is a prefect, and he see her on night, trying to sneak in the restricted section of the library.“what do you think your doing” He says from behind you ''i did nothing''."Oh, really? Then why you're here ?'', ''i forget to give back a book...'', he get closer of her. ''why do I have the overwhelming urge to fuck you senseless against this bookshelf?" He growls, grabbing her roughly and pressing her against the hard spine of a bookshelf. ''uh...'' "Shut up," he says before pressing his lips against hers roughly, his cold, rough hands gripping her hips and waist as he pins her against the bookshelf.He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the contours of her mouth as he growls low in his throat "You like this, don't you?" He asks, pulling away slightly to look her in the eyes "You like being controlled, being taken rough." ''kinda''.With a smirk, he resumes his kiss, his hands trailing down to grope at her ass and lift her up against him "I knew you would," he whispers, his voice dark and sinister "I can make you feel things you've never felt before." ''then do it, make me feel things i have never felt before.''He grabs her by the waist and slams her against the bookshelf, his lips descending on hers once more as he grinds his hips against her, making her gasp "Do you want me to fuck you?" ''yes.''He growls, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and roughly pulling it up over her head. With quick, cold fingers, he undoes her bra and throws it aside before grasping at her skirt "I think you need to get out of these clothes." He smirks as he watches her undo her tie "Good girl." He leans in and kisses her neck before grabbing her breast.He groans, his hands moving to grab at her bra and roughly yank it down, exposing her perky breasts. He leans in and takes a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking on it roughly as he pinches the other one between his fingers''i want you please...'' ,"Then take me." He grabs her hand and guides it to his pants, pushing them down to free his erect cock. It's hot to the touch and pulsing with need "Touch me."He gasps softly as she touches him, his fingers curling inward from the pleasure. His other hand finds its way to her panties, roughly pushing them down her legs before kneeling to lick her pussy ''oh lord...'' He lick her clit lightly, teasing and sucking on it as he finger fucks her wet pussy. She cries out in pleasure, squirming beneath him as she tries to get closer to the pleasure "You're so fucking tight."''more...please Tom...more!'' "More?" He asks, teasingly before slamming his cock in to her tight, waiting pussy roughly "Fuck." He growls, starting to slowly thrust in and out, hitting her g-spot with every stroke "Come for me, baby." He whispers in her ear, his fingers digging into her hips as he picks up the pace, slamming into her harder and faster. Her pussy is tight around him, milking his cock for every drop of cum.

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it's my first, be nice please. :).