#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…”

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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. 🥃🍷🥂

[corendisguise]

Superman Unmasked & Unveiled

Chapter 1

Tom’s heart skipped a beat as the hotel elevator jolted to a stop. The small space, already feeling cramped with just him and the tall, broad-shouldered man beside him, suddenly felt even more confined. Henry Cavill—yes, *that* Henry Cavill—stood mere inches away, his presence almost overwhelming. Tom had seen him on the big screen, but up close, the actor was even more breathtaking, radiating an effortless charisma that made Tom’s mouth dry.

“Well,” Henry said, breaking the silence with a low, smooth voice that sent a shiver down Tom’s spine. “Seems we’re stuck.” His lips curled into a smirk, and his piercing eyes locked onto Tom’s, making it nearly impossible to look away. “Nice company, though.”

Tom swallowed hard, his brain struggling to formulate a response. “Uh, yeah. This is… unexpected.”

Henry chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, vibrating through the confined space. “Relax, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll be out of here soon enough.” He leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge beneath the tailored suit jacket. “So, what brings you to this hotel? Business or pleasure?”

Tom’s mind raced. How did one respond to such a question from someone like Henry Cavill? “A bit of both, I suppose,” he finally managed, hoping his voice didn’t betray how flustered he was.

“Mmm, intriguing.” Henry’s gaze dropped briefly to Tom’s lips before returning to his eyes. “I like people who keep things interesting.”

The air between them thickened, and Tom could feel the heat radiating off Henry’s body. The elevator’s emergency lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the space, but neither man seemed to notice. All Tom could focus on was the way Henry was looking at him, like he was sizing him up, teasing him without even trying.

“You know,” Henry murmured, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a silken tone, “elevators have a tendency to bring people together in ways they never expect.”

Tom’s breath hitched as Henry closed the gap between them, their chests brushing ever so lightly. Henry’s cologne invaded his senses, a heady mix of spice and something wild, undefinable. “Do you believe in fate, Tom?” Henry’s hand came up, his fingers brushing against Tom’s jawline, his touch warm and deliberate.

“I—I don’t know,” Tom stammered, his pulse racing. “Maybe. Sometimes.”

Henry’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer, his breath fanning over Tom’s lips. “Then maybe this is fate’s way of giving us a little time alone. Just the two of us.”

Before Tom could respond, the elevator creaked and groaned, signaling its return to life. The doors slid open with a ding, and Henry stepped back, his demeanor shifting instantly. Gone was the flirtatious tension, replaced by a charming, confident smile. “Well, that was exciting. Let’s continue this conversation somewhere a bit more comfortable, shall we?”

Tom hesitated, torn between the desire to follow Henry and the urge to flee. But the pull was too strong. Henry led the way down the hall, his gait smooth and commanding, until they reached his suite. The door clicked shut behind them, and the atmosphere changed again, becoming heavier, charged with unspoken intentions.

“Drink?” Henry asked, moving toward the mini bar, his movements fluid and graceful.

“Sure,” Tom replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Henry handed him a glass of whiskey, his fingers brushing against Tom’s in a fleeting yet electric touch. They sat on the plush couch, the tension between them simmering, ready to boil over. Henry’s knee brushed against Tom’s, a deliberate move that sent a jolt of electricity through him.

“You’re nervous,” Henry observed, his voice low and husky. “Why? I thought we were having a good time.”

Tom laughed nervously, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s not every day you get stuck in an elevator with Superman.”

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, I see. My reputation precedes me.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Tom’s ear. “Let me show you that I’m much more than just a superhero on film.”

And then, without warning, Henry kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle peck; it was a full-on, devour-you-alive kiss that left no room for doubt. Tom’s glass tumbled from his hand as he responded instinctively, his hands gripping Henry’s shoulders for dear life. The actor’s lips were firm yet pliant, his tongue sliding against Tom’s in a sensuous dance that made his head spin.

As the kiss deepened, Tom became aware of something strange. Henry’s face felt… off. It wasn’t unpleasant, but there was a slight give, a flexibility that didn’t quite align with how human skin should feel. Tom pulled back slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Your face… it feels different.”

Henry’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, but his smile remained. “Does it now? Interesting.” He leaned in for another kiss, more intense this time, his hands roaming over Tom’s body with a possessiveness that bordered on aggressive. Tom’s own hands couldn’t resist exploring, sliding across Henry’s broad shoulders, down his sculpted back.

But then, as their bodies pressed closer, sweat forming between them, Tom felt it again—that odd shift in Henry’s face. His cheeks seemed to change shape ever so slightly, almost as if they were moving independently. Curiosity, mingled with arousal, grew too strong to ignore.

Tom broke the kiss, his fingers tracing the edges of Henry’s face. “What’s going on here?”

Henry’s breath hitched, his chest heaving. “You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

Tom’s fingers found Henry’s nose, and to his astonishment, it moved slightly under his touch, as if made of some kind of flexible material. He pulled gently, and the skin lifted, revealing a faint seam. With a gasp, Tom pulled harder, and Henry moaned softly, his body tensing. “Fuck,” Henry muttered, his voice rough. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Tom moved to Henry’s ears, tugging experimentally. They shifted too, yielding to his touch. The entire face seemed to be composed of something far from human, yet so lifelike it was uncanny. Tom’s heart pounded wildly as he gripped a handful of Henry’s hair and pulled upward. His eyes seemed to sing down in his face and the eyeholes were stretched. He pulled harder and Henry was not resisting. He was rubbing his groin region and moaned loudly. So Tom continued to pull and moved the obvious mask to both side to pull it free. The wet slurping sound now was unmistakable as the mask peeled away slowly, revealing a sweaty man entirely different from the Hollywood icon. He had short blonde hair and short stubbles as a beard.

Tom’s breath caught in his throat. The man before him was handsome, yes, but entirely different from the towering, chiseled figure of Henry Cavill. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and his blue eyes locked onto Tom’s with a mixture of vulnerability and raw desire. Drenched in sweat, his skin glistened under the soft hotel room lights, and his arousal was evident—his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“You’re not Henry,” Tom said, his voice low and barely more than a whisper. The words felt surreal, as if he were narrating someone else’s dream.

The man gave a wry smile, his hand reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow. “No,” he admitted, his voice smooth but less commanding than Henry’s. “I’m Steven. And you just almost ripped my very expensive mask.” He chuckled nervously, though there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze. “Please don’t scream or call security. I promise I’m not dangerous.”

Tom stared at him, processing the situation. Steven’s voice now sounded completely different. His heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t out of fear. No, it was something else—something primal and intoxicating. The revelation that this entire encounter had been a facade only heightened the intensity of the moment. He glanced down at the mask in his hands, now slick with sweat and a little makeup, and then back up at Steven. His curiosity was insatiable.

“Why?” Tom asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “Why do you impersonate people like that?”

Steven shrugged, running a hand through his slightly wavy brown hair. “It’s my job. Sometimes celebrities can’t make appearances, so they hire me to step in. I’ve got a talent for mimicry, and… well, I guess I enjoy playing dress-up. It’s fun to be someone else for a while.” His lips quirked into a sheepish grin, but his eyes remained focused on Tom. “But I didn’t expect this. I mean, I wasn’t planning to… you know. Pull off the mask mid-seduction.”

Tom’s lips twitched into a smile, and he found himself oddly fascinated by Steven’s openness. “So, you’re saying you weren’t planning to let me see the real you?”

Steven shook his head, his breathing steadying. “Not unless things got… really serious. Which, honestly, I didn’t think would happen tonight. But here we are.” He paused, his expression softening. “And now you know. So, what happens next? Are you going to tell everyone? Or…” He trailed off, his body language becoming guarded.

Tom recognized something and moved closer, his fingers brushing against the edge of Steven’s neck. There was now a small edge like he was wearing a skin over his skin. Before this edge was somehow fused to the neck part of the mask. It was warm and damp, imbued with the scent of their shared excitement. “Or what?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Steven’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his breath hot against Tom’s ear. “Or maybe you want to keep this our little secret. Maybe you’d like to… explore this further.” His hand snaked around Tom’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. Despite the absence of Henry’s exaggerated muscles, Steven’s own physique was solid and appealing, and Tom couldn’t help but respond to the invitation.

“Explore how?” Tom murmured, his lips brushing against Steven’s neck as he spoke. He pressed his lips to the edge and discovered it with his tongue.

Steven groaned softly, his grip tightening. “Like this,” he said, his voice thick with urgency. With one swift motion, he grabbed the hem of Tom’s shirt and yanked it over his head, tossing it aside. Tom’s lean, athletic frame was revealed, and Steven’s hands roamed over his chest, mapping every inch with deliberate attention. “You’re beautiful,” Steven breathed, his fingertips tracing the outline of Tom’s nipples, causing them to tighten beneath his touch.

Tom shivered, his body responding instinctively to Steven’s ministrations. He hadn’t expected this level of intimacy after such a bizarre revelation, but there was no denying the electric tension between them. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, his voice laced with amusement and desire.

Steven grinned, his confidence returning as he began to kiss and nibble at Tom’s collarbone. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teased, his hands sliding lower to cup Tom’s ass. Toms hand wandered up to Steven’s neck and he pressed a finger inside the gab at his neck. Steven was wearing a kind of skinlike suit obviously. So his muscle were also fake. With new excitement and recurrent erection he presses his whole hand inside this gap. Steven let out an intensive moan and a shiver runs down to Tom’s spine. It felt incredible wet and warm underneath. It felt like intruding into Steven’s body. Steven opened his eyes. *Now, about that muscle suit…”

Tom’s pulse quickened as Steven squeezed his cheeks appreciatively, and he felt a surge of anticipation. “What about you wearing it now?* he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Tom nodded absently, Stevens eyes gleaming with mischief. “And the mask too. I think you’d make a great Henry Cavill.”

Tom hesitated for a moment, then laughed under his breath. “God, I must be insane,” he muttered, but there was no real doubt in his mind. The idea of stepping into the role of the Hollywood hunk was intoxicating, and the thought of wearing that mask—this time over his own face—was almost too thrilling to resist.

Without another word, Tom knelt down and began unzipping the muscle suit at Steven’s back, after Steven had shown him the hidden zipper. Steven had to get rid of his trousers and shorts. The material of the suit was sticky with sweat, and the faint chemical smell of latex mingled with their musky scents. Carefully, he peeled the suit away from Steven’s body, revealing the man’s true form underneath. The suit was torso and legs with areas exposing his real penis and butthole. Steven wasn’t as muscular as Henry’s image had suggested, but his physique was still impressive, and Tom couldn’t help but admire the way his toned muscles flexed as he moved.

Once the suit was fully removed, Tom stood and held it up, inspecting it closely. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, and he marveled at the way the contours of the muscles had been perfectly replicated. “This is incredible,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Steven smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Glad you approve. Now, why don’t you try it on?”

Tom nodded, his excitement growing as he stripped out of his remaining clothes. Naked, he stepped into the muscle suit, feeling its snug fit as he pulled it up his legs and over his torso. He only struggled a little with his erected penis. The material clung to his skin, and he could feel the residual warmth of Steven’s body within it. The remaining sweat helped him to pull up the suit. When he reached the zipper at the back, Steven stepped forward to assist, fastening it securely behind him. He felt like becoming part of Steven at this moment.

Next came the mask. Tom picked it up, its silicone surface cool to the touch, and positioned it over his own face. As he smoothed it into place, the familiar slide slurping sound when adjusting it echoed in the room, and soon his features were completely concealed. The transformation was complete, and Tom couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. He watched himself in the near mirror and his erection was still strong, coming out of a sheet in the suit.

When he looked up, Steven’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Damn,” Steven muttered, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “You’re perfect.”

Tom smiled, his new features shifting easily under his control. He felt the residing warmth and the sweat of Steven around him. It felt all his senses. It was like being completely absorbed by this strange man. “So, what now?” he asked, his voice altered slightly by the mask’s design.

Steven’s grin was predatory as he stepped closer, his hands reaching out to caress the newly enhanced muscles of Tom’s chest. “Now,” he said, his voice low and husky, “we fuck.”

Steven’s hands roamed over Tom’s chest, his fingers tracing the contours of the muscle suit. The material was smooth but clingy, accentuating every defined line and curve that Tom’s body now possessed. Steven’s touch was electric, sending shivers down Tom’s spine despite the mask hiding his expression. The heat between them was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to fill the room.

“You feel incredible,” Steven murmured, his voice low and filled with admiration. His eyes locked onto Tom’s, studying the way the mask transformed his features into those of Henry Cavill. The illusion was stunning, and Steven couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly Tom had slipped into the role.

Tom smirked, feeling the confidence surge through him as he flexed his enhanced muscles. “You like what you see?” he asked, his voice slightly distorted by the mask but still carrying that unmistakable air of authority.

Steven chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made Tom’s heart race. “Oh, I like it all right,” he replied, his hands moving lower, sliding over the tight fabric of the suit to grip Tom’s ass. He squeezed firmly, eliciting a groan from Tom, who leaned into the touch.

“Fuck,” Tom muttered, his breath quickening as Steven’s hands continued their exploration. The sensation of being touched through the suit was thrilling, making him feel powerful and desired in a way he never had before. He could feel the sweat starting to form underneath the suit, mixing with the residual warmth of Steven’s own perspiration.

Steven’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he stepped back, pulling Tom with him. “Let’s move this to the bed,” he suggested, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Tom nodded eagerly, following Steven across the room to the large bed that dominated the space. The mattress was soft and inviting, and Tom couldn’t wait to sink into it. As they reached the bed, Steven pushed Tom gently backward, guiding him down onto the surface.

Tom fell back onto the mattress, his enhanced body landing with a soft thud. The muscle suit felt even tighter now, constricting his movements slightly but adding to the thrill of the moment. Steven climbed onto the bed after him, straddling Tom’s legs and leaning down to kiss him passionately. With his tongue he discovered all the little holes in the mask and slides with it under the mask tasting the mixed sweat of both guys.

The kiss was extremely intense, Steven’s lips pressing repeatedly hard against Tom’s masked face. The material of the mask muffled the sensation somewhat, but the heat and pressure were undeniable. Tom moaned into the kiss, his hands reaching up to grip Steven’s shoulders. Steven bit into the lips of the mask and pulled a little until letting it snap back in place with a smacking sound.

Steven broke the kiss, pulling back slightly to look down at Tom. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

Tom nodded, his breathing heavy as he looked up at Steven. “Fuck yes,” he replied, his voice filled with determination.

With that, Steven moved, positioning himself between Tom’s legs and lining himself up with Tom’s erection. The muscle suit was tight, but there was a gap between his butt cheeks where Steven couldn’t make room for himself. He spit in his hands and wipes it around Toms hole. He pressed forward, entering Tom slowly but surely, reveling in the tightness and heat that surrounded him.

Tom groaned loudly, the sensation overwhelming him. The muscle suit added an extra layer of intensity, making every movement more pronounced and exciting. He could feel Steven’s cock inside him, filling him up completely, and it was everything he had hoped for.

Steven began to move, thrusting in and out of Tom with slow, deliberate strokes. Each movement was calculated, designed to maximize the pleasure for both of them. Tom’s hands clenched tightly around Steven’s waist, holding on as the sensations built inside him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steven muttered, his voice strained with effort. His hips snapped forward with each thrust, driving deeper into Tom with every movement. He grabbed Tom’s artificial chest with both hands, massaged it and pulling strongly at the suit so that Tom was lifted even a little.

Tom’s head lolled back against the pillows, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The mask was starting to feel restrictive, the heat and humidity building up inside it making it somehow difficult to breathe. But he didn’t care; the pleasure was too great, too overwhelming to worry about anything else.

Steven’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing faster and harder as he neared his climax. Tom could feel the tension building in Steven’s body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each movement. It was exhilarating, knowing that he was the one driving Steven to this point.

“Almost there,” Steven growled, his voice low and guttural. His hips slammed into Tom’s with brutal force, the impact reverberating through both of their bodies.

Tom’s own orgasm was close, the pressure building in his groin as Steven continued to pound into him. He could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, waiting for the release that would send him over the edge.

“Come on,” Steven urged, his voice sharp and commanding. “Give it to me.” With saying this he bent forward and grabbed the hair of the mask. He pulled hard upward without caring to destroy the mask. The entire face seemed to stretch unlimited just hold by Tom’s chin. The eyeholes just showed empty spots. Tom’s heart pounded wildly. The slurping sound was strong as the mask peeled away like a wip, revealing the sweaty face which showed pure extasy.

Those impressions were enough to push Tom over the edge. With a loud cry, he came, his body convulsing around Steven’s cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. The sensation was indescribable, pure ecstasy coursing through his veins as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

Steven followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside Tom. He groaned loudly, his body trembling as he emptied himself into Tom, the sensation of release almost too much to bear.

They lay together for a moment, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow of their passion. The room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

Finally, Steven pulled out of Tom, sitting back on the bed and looking down at him. “Damn,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “That was… something else.”

Tom grinned, touching his own muscular body. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice still slightly breathless. “It really was.”

Steven leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Tom’s head. “You did good,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate. “Very good.”

Tom smiled, feeling a sense of pride wash over him. He had taken on the role of Henry Cavill and had done it well, giving Steven the experience of a lifetime. It was a surreal feeling, one that he knew he would never forget.

Steven stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright,” he said, his voice light and cheerful. “Let’s get you out of that suit.”

Tom nodded, sitting up and preparing himself for the process of stripping off the muscle suit. As Steven helped him out of the suit, Tom couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of losing the persona he had just inhabited. It had been exhilarating, stepping into someone else’s shoes and experiencing life from a different perspective.

But as Steven peeled the muscle suit off him, exposing his own body once again, Tom realized that the experience wasn’t over. He grabbed the mask and kissed the empty mouth gently entering his tongue into it. There were more masks, more suits, more opportunities to explore and transform. And with Steven by his side, he knew that the possibilities were endless.

to be continued…

[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.

[clxrk-kent]

clark kent (tom welling) x reader

The city was bustling outside the window, its lights flickering like a million tiny stars against the night sky. Inside, it was quiet, save for the sound of a clock ticking in the corner and the soft hum of the refrigerator. You sat on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, your thoughts swirling as you replayed the evening.

It had been an exhausting day. You'd caught up with old friends, attended a meeting, and had a thousand thoughts to process, but the one that lingered most was the moment you and Clark Kent had shared earlier that day. You’d always felt a connection with him, a chemistry that neither of you had ever quite acknowledged—until today.

He had stopped by your apartment under the pretext of “checking in,” but you both knew it was more than that. It had been one of those rare moments when Clark allowed himself to relax, to let his guard down. You’d seen him laugh more freely than usual, heard him speak about things that weren’t related to his superhero persona, his journalistic work, or the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He was human with you.

And you could feel it—the pull between you both. It was magnetic, a quiet tension that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniable.

When the door creaked open, your heart skipped. You hadn’t expected him to come back, but there he was, looking as handsome and disarming as ever. Clark’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, his eyes softer than you remembered. He was dressed casually in a plain t-shirt and jeans, his hair tousled as if he'd just returned from a run.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said, his voice low, like it always was when he was uncertain. But the way he said it, his eyes never leaving yours, told you it was anything but a casual visit.

"Not at all," you replied, your pulse quickening, betraying the calm facade you tried to maintain. "Come on in."

He stepped into the apartment, and you noticed how he seemed to exhale the weight of the world as soon as he crossed the threshold. He was always in control, always the perfect reporter, the fearless hero, but here, with you, he didn’t have to be. He could let the world spin without him for a moment.

Clark walked over to the couch and sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You could smell the faint hint of fresh air, like he’d just flown in from somewhere. His presence was always comforting, but tonight, there was something more. His fingers brushed yours as he leaned back, the brief contact sending a shockwave through your body.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of your breathing, a shared, unspoken awareness hanging in the air between you.

Finally, Clark turned to you, his eyes dark and intense. “I didn’t expect this… you know, being here with you like this.”

His words were soft, almost unsure, and it struck you that despite everything he had faced, Clark Kent was just as vulnerable as anyone else. He wasn’t always the confident, invulnerable hero the world saw. With you, he was just Clark. The man you had grown to care for in ways that neither of you had openly discussed.

You met his gaze and smiled, your voice low and steady, “I didn’t expect it either.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile, but the expression quickly deepened as his eyes flickered to your lips. The world seemed to stop for a moment, the hum of the city outside the only sound, a distant reminder of everything you’d left behind to focus on the moment you were sharing now.

Slowly, as if testing the water, Clark leaned in. His breath was warm against your face, and before you could even fully process the shift, his lips were on yours—gentle at first, tentative, as if asking for permission. Your heart thudded in your chest as you kissed him back, the touch of his lips sending a rush of warmth through your veins.

He deepened the kiss, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer as he gently guided you onto his lap. The world outside seemed to fade as your body responded to his, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t control.

His hands were strong, yet careful, as if he were afraid to break something. His lips moved against yours, his kisses becoming more urgent, more passionate, as if he were trying to convey everything he had kept hidden in the depths of his heart.

You broke the kiss, breathless, your forehead resting against his. “Clark…” you whispered, your voice shaky from the intensity of the moment.

His eyes met yours, dark with desire, but also something softer—something more vulnerable. “I don’t want to pretend anymore,” he confessed in a low voice. “Not with you.”

And before you could respond, Clark pulled you back into another kiss, this time more desperate, more consuming. The world outside didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this moment, this connection. He was no longer Superman, and you were no longer just a friend—this was something else entirely. Something raw, something real.

[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.

[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—“



[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.

[tomsdolly]

our special place pt2 ♡ ₊˚⊹

a/n: heyeyeyye here's part 2, hope u like it x3

✶ summary: Tom and you have been in love for a while, however, your parents don't accept your friendship with him, since your families were so different. He was raised in a free-spirited way. While you were raised in a totally rough environment with strict parents. -> here's part 1

✶ content/warnings: smut 18+, (p in v), slight teasing, unprotected sex.

"I think I should go..." you said, but Tom just grabbed you tighter and whispered a sweet "no."

"Tom, I need to go home, it's late and my mom might be worried." You said. You really didn't want him to let you go, you wanted to stay with him. "You can spend the night here, I think it would be really nice, please please" Tom pleaded.

You finally let him convince you. "Ahh, okay, I will tell my mom that I am staying with a friend." You took your phone and texted your mom, letting her know this.

You cuddled up with Tom and you two kept on kissing. You were smiling and feeling really special. He always made you feel special.

He leaned his head down and started planting kisses along your jawline, his lips trailing down your neck. He nipped at your skin, his teeth grazing over your pulse point. His hand moved up to your hair, grabbing a handful of it to start kissing you with intensity, making you gasp.

He let out a low gasp at your reaction, the sound sending a jolt through his lower abdomen. He then continued to kiss and nip at your neck, his tongue swiping over your skin.

His hands roamed over your body, touching every inch of you that he could reach. He was being much more needy than usual, his touch desperate.

"Do you have any idea how much you turn me on?"

He spoke, his voice low and gravelly. He moved his hips so that they were pressed against yours, and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants. You could feel your cheeks turning pink, but you knew he was serious.

he started to leave kisses all over your chest, kissing and squeezing your breasts in the process. "You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this." He spoke breathlessly as his hands moved to your jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper.

He slid your jeans down your legs, practically ripping them off of you. He stared down at you for a moment, taking in the sight of you in just your bra and panties.

He ran his hands over your body again, his touch slightly rougher than usual. His gaze was intense, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you.

He moved his hands to your hips, moving you up so that you were further towards the center of the bed. He positioned himself between your legs, his weight pressing down on you. He leaned down and captured your lips in a hot, messy kiss. He nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue exploring your mouth as he removed your underwear.

"You want me, baby?"

He asked, his voice raspy. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"y-yeah, i want you.."

At your words, he moved his body that was positioned between your legs, putting his own pants and boxers off, the head of his member pressing against your entrance. He slowly started to push himself inside of you, his breath coming out in short gasp.

First, he went slow, but then he picked up his pace slightly. His movements became a bit faster and rougher, making you moan and gasp

He groaned at your reaction, the sound sending a jolt through his lower body.

"Shit, you sound so goddamn good."

He panted against your neck, his body beginning to sweat as he pushed himself deeper inside of you. He could feel the heat of your bare skin against his, and it was driving him wild.

He could hardly stand the sight of you, your face and body lost in pleasure.

"You look so goddamn sexy like that."

He panted, his voice thick with want.He moved his mouth back down to your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin. He then started to move his hips faster, his movements becoming slightly more aggressive, making you scream. "S-so good! don't stop!"

"Yeah, I thought so."

He said, a cocky grin on his face.

"You like being at my mercy, being totally overpowered by me. Goddamn, I wish you knew how sexy that is. How goddamn hot you look like this."

His body slammed against yours, the force of his thrusts causing the bed to creak beneath you. "Oh god, yes." He said, groaning against your neck. He loved how your body felt around him, how you squeezed him so perfectly. "Fuck! Tom!" you moaned "I'm so close.."

He was close too. He could feel it in his stomach, building like a coil. He was almost ready to come, but he wanted to wait just a bit longer. He didn't want it to end yet, not when you were taking him so nicely.

"Fuck, you feel so good."

"T-tom, I'm gonna cum!"

His breath hitched when he felt you squeezing around him.

"Ah! oh god, yes!"

"Oh, fuck, you're making me-"

he gasped out, his words getting cut by a loud moan when he felt you cum at the same time as him.

He was breathing hard, and you as well, his chin resting on your chest as he tried to collect himself. "Jesus Christ, you're so perfect, you know that?"

He lifted his head so that he could look you in the eye. His eyes locked with yours, and a warm expression appeared on his face. "I love you, sweetheart. So damn much."

"I love you more.." you replied.

He smiled at your words, his heart swelling with love for you. "I'm the luckiest guy alive, knowing that a girl like you loves me back, you know that?" He leaned in and kissed you again, this time much more gentle and tender than before.

time skip

You both were now dressed. Tom took a shower with you, filled with kisses and care. You checked your phone and told your mom that you were going home now.

"Wanna go tomorrow to the park? we can take ice cream and stuff.." Tom said.

"I have to see"

"Just tell your daddy that you're going to a friend's house again. Maybe then we can come and fu-" You slapped his arm and he laughed slightly. "Tom, my parents are gonna call to my friends' parents if i go out again.." you said.

"I know, I know.. just tell me when you're fee and we can go somewhere" he said, giving you a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck. He loved your essence, he even bought the perfume that you use and he always puts it in his room whenever he misses you. "I'm gonna miss you.." he said as you hugged him too.

then he threw you on the bed and started kissing you again...

-> masterlist

FINISHED

[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.

[moonsickness-posts]

Shadows in the Library (pathetic yandere tom riddle x reader)

this is kinda trash but i wanted to write pathetic tom riddle so bad so here

TW: stalking, obsession.

The air in the library was thick with the scent of parchment and old leather-bound books, a sanctuary of silence disrupted only by the soft scratching of a quill. She sat hunched over her charms notes, oblivious to the figure concealed in the shadows between the towering shelves.

Tom Riddle had always been a presence, magnetic and cold, with an allure that left students whispering in his wake. Yet, she had somehow managed to avoid the pull of his gravity. Until now.

For weeks, his sharp eyes had tracked her movements her thoughtful pauses, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her quiet smiles when she thought no one was looking. She was an enigma, one he couldn’t solve and couldn’t ignore.

Tonight, Tom’s patience had worn thin. As the clock struck midnight and the last straggling students exited the library, he remained hidden, watching her. The librarian had locked the doors moments before, trapping them alone in the vast, dimly lit room.

“You.” His voice broke the stillness, smooth as silk but laced with an edge of desperation.

She startled, her quill clattering to the desk. Turning toward the voice, her breath hitched as she saw him step from the shadows. His expression was intense, his dark eyes fixed solely on her.

“Riddle,” she said, her voice unsteady. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” he murmured, advancing toward her. The dim candlelight cast sharp shadows across his angular features, making him appear almost otherworldly.

“I was studying,” she replied, her tone cautious. “What do you want?”

Tom hesitated, his mask of calm cracking just enough to reveal a glimpse of something raw beneath. “You,” he said simply. “I want you to see me. To feel what I feel. Every moment I spend away from you is-”

“Stop.” She stood, her chair scraping against the stone floor. “What are you talking about? You don’t even know me.”

His lips curved into a bitter smile. “Don’t I? I’ve spent months learning everything about you. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking, the books you borrow, the way you laugh when you think no one’s listening.” His voice dropped, a whisper that sent a chill down her spine. “You consume me.”

Her pulse raced, and she took a step back, only for him to close the distance between them in a flash, caging her against the desk. His hands gripped the edge on either side of her, his face inches from hers.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking with an unfamiliar vulnerability. “Don’t push me away. Tell me you feel it too.”

Her mind raced, her emotions a chaotic storm. She’d never seen Tom Riddle like this unhinged, desperate, almost... human. But beneath the veneer of emotion, there was a darkness, a possessiveness that made her shudder.

“I... I need to go,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

His grip on the desk tightened, and for a moment, his gaze faltered. “No. Don’t leave. Not yet. Please.” His tone cracked on the last word, the smooth control he so often wielded slipping away like water through his fingers. “You don’t understand I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried. I’ve tried. You’ve... changed me.” He laughed bitterly, the sound low and hollow. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore. You have no idea how much power you hold over me, how you’ve consumed every thought, every plan. You’re in my dreams, in my mind every waking moment. And I-” He paused, drawing a shaky breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t bear it if you walk away.”

There was a flicker of something raw in his expression pleading, almost pitiful. He reached out, his fingers hovering just short of her wrist as though he feared even the smallest rejection would break him completely. “Just... stay. Talk to me. Tell me what I have to do to make you care for me, even a little.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She didn’t know whether to pity him or fear him, whether to run or stay frozen in the moment.

[corendisguise]

Superman Unmasked & Unveiled

Chapter 3

Tom’s heart pounded as he stepped into the fluorescent-lit expanse of the shopping mall. The place was bustling with people, a sea of strangers moving in and out of stores, some faces buried in their phones. He usually avoided malls like this, but today, loneliness had driven him out of his quiet house and into the chaos. Steven had been gone for nearly two weeks, working on set as a stand-in for some actor, and the silence of their home had begun to feel oppressive. Tom missed the way Steven moved around the kitchen, humming softly as he made coffee, the sound of his laughter echoing through the halls.

But as much as he missed Steven, there was another feeling gnawing at him—a prickling unease, a jealous itch that he couldn’t scratch. Steven’s job brought him into contact with so many beautiful people, actors and models and crew members who seemed impossibly glamorous compared to Tom’s mundane existence. He knew it was irrational, but sometimes he wondered if Steven noticed them too, if he felt even a fraction of the attraction to them that Tom did. It was stupid, he told himself, but the thought lingered, unshakable.

Lost in his thoughts, Tom wandered aimlessly through the mall, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He didn’t even realize where he was going until he found himself standing inside a sleek electronics store, the glassshowcase glittering with displays of the latest gadgets. His eyes lingered on a particularly flashy smartphone, its screen glowing hypnotically. For a moment, he considered buying a new phone, but then he went out again and caught sight of the security guard standing just outside the store.

The man was massive, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his uniform, his skin a deep, rich brown that seemed to glow under the harsh light. His long braids were tied back neatly, and a name tag pinned to his chest read “James.” Tom froze, his pulse quickening as James glanced in his direction, his dark eyes sharp and assessing. Tom looked away quickly, turning to go, but it was too late.

“Sir,” James called out, his voice low and authoritative. “Could you come here for a moment?”

Tom’s stomach dropped. He hesitated, his feet rooted to the spot, but when James took a step closer, he felt a surge of panic. There was no point in resisting, he told himself. Just go along with it. He walked over to James, his movements stiff and awkward, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Is there a problem?” Tom asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

James didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied Tom carefully, his gaze traveling from head to toe and back again. It felt invasive, almost predatory, and Tom shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Finally, James spoke, his tone cold and accusing.

“I saw you lingering in the store earlier,” he said. “Did you take something?”

Tom blinked, his mind scrambling for an explanation. “What? No, I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” James interrupted, his voice cutting through Tom’s flimsy protest. “I don’t have time for games. If you stole something, you need to hand it over now.”

Tom shook his head frantically, his hands coming out of his pockets to gesture helplessly. “I swear, I didn’t take anything! You’ve got the wrong person!”

James’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, his jaw tightened, his lips forming a thin, angry line. “We’ll see about that,” he said, stepping closer. “Let’s go.”

Tom tried to back away, but James grabbed his arm firmly, his grip strong enough to make Tom wince. “Where are we going?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“To my office,” James replied, steering him toward a narrow corridor at the far end of the mall. “We’ll sort this out there.”

Tom’s legs felt like jelly as they walked down the dimly lit hallway, the walls closing in around him. He could feel James’s presence looming over him, his sheer size making Tom feel small and vulnerable. The security guard opened a door at the end of the corridor, revealing a small, sparsely furnished room with a single table and two chairs.

“Sit,” James ordered, pointing to one of the chairs.

Tom obeyed, sinking into the hard plastic seat and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. James stood in front of him, his arms crossed as well, his expression unreadable. Tom waited for him to say something, anything, but the silence stretched on, each second dragging painfully.

Finally, James spoke, his voice laced with irritation. “You know the drill. Empty your pockets.”

Tom hesitated, his cheeks flushing. “I already told you, I didn’t steal anything.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “Do it yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

The threat was clear, and Tom swallowed hard. With shaking hands, he began pulling items out of his pockets—his wallet, his keys, a crumpled receipt. He placed them on the table one by one, avoiding eye contact with James. When he was done, he sat back, folding his hands in his lap.

James leaned forward, picking up each item and examining it closely. He paused when he reached the receipt, his brow furrowing. “This doesn’t prove anything,” he said, tossing it back onto the table. “You could still be hiding something.”

Tom’s breath hitched. “I’m not—”

“Shut up,” James snapped, cutting him off. “I think you need a more thorough search.”

Before Tom could react, James grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it open, buttons popping off and scattering across the floor. Tom let out a startled cry, clutching at his now-exposed chest. His mind reeled, his body frozen in shock.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “You don’t have to do this.”

James ignored him, reaching out to run his big hands roughly over Tom’s torso. Tom flinched at the touch, his skin tingling uncomfortably. The sensation was unfamiliar, strangely intimate, and a jolt of arousal shot through him, confusing and unwelcome.

James’s fingers moved lower, dipping into Tom’s waistband. Tom gasped, his body tensing as James’s hands brushed against the sensitive skin of his hips. “There’s nothing here,” James said, his voice cool and dismissive. “But I’m not done yet.”

Tom’s heart raced as James stepped back, his eyes scanning Tom’s body hungrily. “Stand up,” he ordered.

Tom hesitated, his legs wobbling as he pushed himself to his feet. James wasted no time, grabbing the remnants of Tom’s shirt and lifting it over his head in one swift motion. Tom’s arms went up instinctively, shielding himself from James’s gaze, but the security guard wasn’t deterred. He grabbed Tom by the wrists and held them firmly above his head, pinning him against the wall next to the table.

“Stay still,” James commanded, his voice low and menacing.

Tom whimpered, his body trembling as James’s free hand slid down his abdomen, brushing against the waistband of his pants once more. This time, when James’s fingers dipped beneath the fabric, Tom couldn’t suppress a groan, his hips bucking slightly. The sound seemed to surprise him as much as it did James, who raised an eyebrow in interest.

“Looks like someone’s enjoying this,” James said, his tone dripping with mockery.

Tom’s face burned with shame, but before he could respond, James’s fingers plunged deeper, exploring the crevice between his buttocks. Tom cried out, his legs giving way as his knees hit the floor. James released his wrists, allowing him to collapse forward onto the table, his upper body pressed flat against the cold surface.

“Spread your legs,” James ordered, his voice commanding.

Tom hesitated, his mind screaming in protest, but his body betrayed him, obeying without question. He spread his legs wide, exposing himself completely to James’s hungry gaze. The security guard stepped closer, his crotch pressing against Tom’s bare back as he reached around to undo the button on his pants.

“You’re going to regret lying to me,” James whispered, his breath hot against Tom’s ear.

Tom’s mind spun, his thoughts a chaotic mess of fear and desire. He wanted to resist, to push James away, but his body refused to cooperate. Instead, he moaned softly as James’s fingers slipped inside his mouth, probing and teasing until Tom’s tongue darted out to meet them.

“Good boy,” James murmured, his voice thick with pleasure.

Tom’s eyes fluttered shut, his resistance crumbling under the weight of his overwhelming arousal. He had no idea how this had happened, no idea why he was letting this stranger take control of him, but the truth was undeniable—he was completely at James’s mercy. If Tom hadn't been so excited, he might have noticed the strange artificial taste of James fingers.

“Now,” James said, his voice low and urgent. “Tell me where it is.”

Tom shuddered, his entire body trembling as James’s fingers withdrew from his mouth and moved lower, slipping between his cheeks to press against his entrance.

“Please,” Tom whimpered, his voice breaking.

James didn’t answer. Instead, he thrust his wet finger inside, breaching Tom’s tight hole with steady pressure. Tom’s head fell forward, his face pressed against the table as he cried out, his body arching involuntarily. The sensation was overwhelming, terrifying and thrilling all at once, and Tom couldn’t help but wonder what else James had planned for him.

James’s fingers lingered inside Tom, stretching him gently but firmly, preparing him for what was to come. Tom’s breath hitched as James pulled his finger out, only to replace it with something cold and smooth. He looked down, his vision swimming with a mix of fear and arousal, to see a sleek, black toy resting against his entrance. It was thick like 3 fingers at least.

“You’re going to like this,” James murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the small room. His dark eyes locked on Tom’s face, watching intently as he slid the toy in slowly, inch by agonizing inch.

Tom bit his lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds that wanted to escape. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that left him trembling. He couldn’t help but moan softly as the toy breached him, filling him in a way that made his entire body shudder.

James leaned over him, his broad chest brushing against Tom’s back. “That’s it,” he whispered, his breath hot against Tom’s ear. “Take it. Take it all.”

The command sent a shiver down Tom’s spine. He felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet there was an undeniable thrill in submitting to James’s control. The toy moved deeper, forcing him to stretch further, and Tom couldn’t stop the choked cry that escaped his lips.

James grinned, clearly enjoying Tom’s reaction. “You’re tight,” he said, almost admiringly. “But you’re handling it well.”

Tom didn’t respond, too consumed by the sensations coursing through his body. The toy moved in and out, each thrust bringing him closer to the edge of something he couldn’t quite name. His cock twitched, leaking pre-cum onto the table beneath him, and he hated himself for how much he was enjoying this.

“You like that, don’t you?” James asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He reached around and wrapped a hand around Tom’s throbbing erection, stroking him in time with the movements of the toy.

Tom gasped, his hips bucking instinctively. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please…”

James chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Good boy,” he said, giving Tom’s cock a firm squeeze. “Now, let’s see how you handle the real thing.”

With that, James pulled the toy out, leaving Tom feeling empty and exposed. He turned Tom over, positioning him on his back on the table. Tom’s legs were spread wide, his body completely at James’s mercy. He couldn’t bring himself to look away as James unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants, revealing a thick, impressive erection that made Tom’s breath catch in his throat.

“You ready for this?” James asked, his voice low and teasing. He grabbed Tom’s legs, lifting them up and placing them on his broad shoulders.

Tom nodded quickly, though his heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn’t believe what was happening, couldn’t believe he was about to be penetrated by someone other than Steven. But the thought of stopping was impossible. He was too far gone, too consumed by the desire to feel James inside him.

James positioned himself at Tom’s entrance, his tip pressing against the sensitive skin. “Relax,” he said, his voice demanding. „ You will now get to know me properly.“

Tom took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He focused on James’s words, willing his body to comply. Slowly, carefully, James began to push in, his thick length sliding into Tom with deliberate precision.

Tom groaned, his head falling back against the table. The sensation was overwhelming, painful at first but quickly giving way to pleasure. James was so big, filling him in a way that no one ever had before, and Tom couldn’t help but arch his hips, desperate for more.

“There you go,” James said approvingly. “Take it. You’re doing so good.”

Tom whimpered, his hands gripping the edge of the table for support. James continued to push in, his pace slow and controlled, allowing Tom to adjust to his size. Each inch that entered him sent waves of pleasure through his body, and Tom found himself moaning uncontrollably.

“So tight,” James muttered, his breathing becoming heavier. “You’re perfect.”

Finally, James bottomed out, his full length buried inside Tom. Tom cried out, his body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. He felt so full, so utterly dominated, and the realization made his cock throb even harder.

James remained still for a moment, allowing Tom to get used to the feeling. Then, slowly, he began to move, pulling out until only the head of his cock remained inside before pushing back in. The motion was slow and deliberate, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through Tom’s body.

“Oh god,” Tom gasped, his voice breaking. “Please… faster…”

James smirked, clearly enjoying Tom’s desperation. “As you wish,” he said, increasing his pace. He fucked Tom with long, deep strokes, each one hitting his prostate with pinpoint accuracy.

Tom moaned loudly, his body writhing on the table. He couldn’t hold back any longer, the pleasure building inside him with every thrust. His cock was rock hard, throbbing with need, and he could feel the pressure in his balls growing stronger with every passing second.

“James,” Tom cried out, his voice pleading. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

James growled, his grip on Tom’s legs tightening. “Not yet,” he said, his voice commanding. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Tom whimpered, desperate to release but unable to disobey James’s orders. He clenched his fists, fighting against the urge to climax, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming, and he was losing control.

James seemed to sense Tom’s struggle. “That’s it,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Hold on. Just a little longer.”

Tom nodded, though his vision was blurring with tears of pleasure. He clung to James’s words, using them to steady himself as the security guard continued to fuck him with relentless intensity. Each thrust pushed him closer to the edge, and Tom knew it wouldn’t be long before he surrendered. James was now breathing heavily, moaning in between the deep breaths. - He was just not showing any sweat on his body or face what Tom should have surprised Tom normally. - „James… please…” Tom begged, his voice broken and desperate.

James leaned down, capturing Tom’s lips in a rough, bruising kiss. The contact sent a shockwave through Tom’s body, and he realized suddenly that he didn’t want to hold back anymore. He wanted to give in, to let go completely and lose himself in the ecstasy that James was offering him.

With a loud cry, Tom came, his seed shooting across the table and James chest as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. His body convulsed, his muscles spasming as he rode out his orgasm, completely spent.

James pulled out of Tom abruptly, letting him fall back against the table, panting and exhausted. Tom couldn’t bring himself to care; he was too overwhelmed by the experience, too lost in the haze of his own arousal.

“Damn,” James said, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re a natural.”

Tom closed his eyes, still catching his breath. He felt ashamed for enjoying it so much, for letting James take control like that. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny the thrill of submitting to someone so dominant, so confident in his power.

James leaned down, kissing Tom again, this time more tenderly. “We’ll have to do this again sometime,” he said, his voice laced with promise.

Tom’s eyes fluttered open, meeting James’s dark gaze. “I… I don’t know…” he stammered, his voice trembling.

James smiled, his expression knowing. “Sure you do,” he said, leaning in closer.

Tom’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The ecstasy had faded, leaving behind a deep pit of guilt and sadness. He couldn’t believe what he had just done, how easily he had submitted to James. His heart ached for Steven, who was out there, working, meeting beautiful people, while Tom had been indulging in this intense, forbidden encounter.

James, breathing heavily, seemed to sense Tom’s turmoil. He didn’t say anything, but his massive arms wrapped around Tom with surprising gentleness. The warmth of James’s body pressed against him, and for a moment, Tom felt safe, cocooned in strength. But the guilt continued to gnaw at him.

“Shh,” James murmured, his deep voice soothing yet commanding. “It’s okay. You don’t have to feel bad. This was… mutual. You wanted this as much as I did.”

Tom shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “I can’t… I can’t do this. Not without Steven.”

James’s grip tightened, but not in a way that hurt. Instead, it was firm, grounding. “You’re here now,” he said softly. “And I’m here. Let me take care of you, even if just for a little while.”

Tom hesitated, his body still buzzing from the intensity of their encounter. James leaned in, pressing his lips to Tom’s once more. This time, the kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement of James’s tongue sending waves of desire through Tom’s body. He could feel himself hardening again, his muscles responding despite the turmoil in his mind.

James pulled back slightly, his dark eyes glinting with something that made Tom’s breath hitch. “You liked it, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

Tom nodded reluctantly, unable to deny the truth. “Yes… but—”

“But nothing,” James interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. To let someone else take control for once.”

James’s hand moved down, tracing the length of Tom’s cock as he spoke. The gentle pressure made Tom gasp, his hips instinctively arching into the touch. James smirked, clearly pleased by the reaction. “See? You want this. Admit it.”

Tom bit his lip, trying to resist as his cock was still very sensitive, but James’s skilled fingers were relentless. They moved with precision, stroking him slowly, building the tension until Tom was panting, his body on fire. “Please…” he whispered, unable to hold back any longer.

James chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. “Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want.”

“More… I need more,” Tom admitted, his voice breaking.

James’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his hot breath brushing against Tom’s ear. “That’s what I thought.” His fingers shifted, moving with bolder strokes, targeting every sensitive spot with expert precision. Tom moaned loudly, his body trembling with anticipation.

As James continued to tease and torment him, Tom’s thoughts began to blur. He tried to focus on the guilt, on the fact that Steven might be hurt by what he was doing, but James’s touch was too overwhelming. It consumed him completely, dragging him deeper into pleasure.

James’s other hand reached up, fingers tangling in the long braids that fell over his shoulders. He tugged gently, pulling them across Tom’s chest and neck, the sensation tickling and thrilling at the same time. Tom squirmed under the dual sensations, his arousal peaking higher and higher.

“Almost there, aren’t you?” James murmured, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’re going to come again for me.”

Tom nodded frantically, his hands clutching at James’s arms for support. He could feel the build-up inside him, the pressure mounting until he was sure he would explode. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, James stopped, pulling his hand away.

Tom gasped, confused and desperate for more. “What… why did you stop?”

James smirked, his expression mischievous. “Patience,” he said simply. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Before Tom could protest, James leaned forward, positioning himself over Tom’s groin. He took the tip of Tom’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him whole with one swift motion. Tom cried out, his entire body jerking in response. James’s mouth was warm and wet, his tongue swirling and flicking with practiced ease. Every movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through Tom, making it impossible to think about anything else. His first orgasm was only moment ago and he was on the edge again, never felt this intensity before.

James worked his magic, sucking and licking with an intensity that left Tom breathless. He could feel the familiar rush approaching, his climax threatening to overtake him. He clutched at James’s head, gripping the braids tightly as his body tensed.

Just as Tom was on the verge of release, James released him, pulling back with a slight pop. Tom groaned in frustration, his body aching for completion. “Please… don’t stop…”

James grinned, his expression filled with wicked satisfaction. “Not yet,” he said, his voice teasing. “There’s something else I want to try first.”

Tom blinked, his mind foggy with desire. “What… what are you talking about?”

James didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached up, his fingers finding a seam along his neck. Tom frowned, confusion setting in as James’s fingers worked the edges of the fabric. He drilled his fingers on both sides of his chin under the edge and moved them slowly upwards. Sweat was running down on both hands. His maskulin features distorted and Tom saw the fingers draw contours under the skin. With a sudden slurping sound, James peeled the mask upwards, revealing the sweaty exhausted face beneath.

Tom’s breath hitched, his eyes widening in shock. The face staring back at him was not James’s—it was Steven’s. Sweat clung to his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin, and his eyes were full of a mix of exhaustion and desire. His eyes were dark brown. For a moment, Tom couldn’t process what he was seeing.

“Steven…?” Tom whispered, his voice barely audible.

Steven—or James, or whoever he was—smiled, his expression soft yet intense. “Surprise,” he said, his voice a perfect blend of Steven’s smooth tones and James’s deep timbre.

The realization crashed over Tom like a wave, sending him spiraling into a state of pure, unadulterated bliss. Steven was holding up the lifeless face of James at the braids, dangling and dripping sweat everywhere. Toms body reacted before his mind could fully grasp the situation, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He came hard, his release coating Steven’s face with thick bursts of cum.

Steven stayed still, allowing Tom to finish, his own breathing heavy and labored. Steven was licking away every drop of cum on his lips and smiled broadly. When Tom finally collapsed back onto the table, spent and exhausted, Steven leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

Tom’s eyes fluttered shut, a smile playing on his lips. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice weak but sincere.

Steven held him close, his strong arms providing comfort and security. Tom knew this wasn’t the end—there would be questions, discussions, and perhaps even consequences—but for now, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of Steven’s embrace. „It will never become boring with you….“. Steven nodded in silence.

to be continued…

[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.

[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.