#what is happening to me guys I’m turning into something else

[cosmiclily]

‘cause i hate to wait so long

★vi x f!reader

part one

wc: 4.9k

cw: hurt/comfort

notes: tried my best to make the transition to the end smooth, and i liked how it turned out, kinda get vi on an astronomical level on this fic lol 🫢

It had been a great weekend. The two of you traveled to see your parents, and as always, your mom loved Vi. Sometimes, you swore she liked Vi even more than she liked you. Every time you called to say you were visiting, she asked what dessert Vi wanted and happily made it just for her.

Being back in your hometown meant running into old friends—and with old friends came old flings.

But even though you and Vi had to stand through a thirty-minute conversation with your high school ex in the middle of a bakery, you thought everything was fine. Vi hadn’t seemed particularly bothered at the time, so when you got back home and she started acting off, you assumed it was something else. Probably work.

She had been sharing a studio with some new guy who got on her nerves, and you had heard her complain about indecisive clients more times than you could count.

You weren’t worried.

Not at first.

But then, the little things started piling up.

She left your messages on read for days. She made excuses to avoid staying the night. She canceled plans at the last minute.

And now, standing in her studio, watching her avoid your gaze, you knew.

“Vi,” you started carefully, hands shoved into your pockets, “is there something you want to talk about?”

She shrugged, still not looking at you. “I don’t know. You’re the one who came over unannounced.”

Her tone was flat, detached, and it sent an uneasy feeling crawling up your spine.

“I came over because you’ve been acting weird,” you said, voice steady, but your heart was anything but. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, but still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing. Just work stuff.”

But you knew her. And this wasn’t just work stuff.

So you took a step closer, crossing your arms. “Vi.”

Vi finally looked at you then, and something flickered in her expression—something tired, something unsure.

“What?” she asked, her tone sharp, irritated.

You ignored it. You weren’t sure what was happening, and the last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a fight if it didn’t have to.

“Just tell me the truth,” you said, voice careful but firm. “Please.”

She exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“I…” She looked away, shaking her head. Then, quieter, “Do you miss her?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your ex,” she said, voice clipped. “You know, the one we ran into last weekend.”

You frowned, utterly confused. “Miss her? Vi, what the hell are you talking about?”

Vi let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair. “She just seemed so... put together,” she muttered. “Talking about her medical degree, how she wanted to travel the world. And I don’t know, I just thought—” She cut herself off, shoulders tensing. “I just thought maybe you should be with someone like her.”

Your head jerked back like she had slapped you.

“Are you serious right now?” You scoffed, a disbelieving laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Vi, you hate when people put words in your mouth, and now you’re doing the same damn thing to me?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m just saying it makes sense! She has her shit together, she knows exactly what she wants in life, she doesn’t—” She stopped, jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscles twitch.

“She doesn’t what?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Say it.”

Vi hesitated, then finally snapped, “She doesn’t come with all the baggage I do, okay?”

You stared at her, stunned.

“This again?” Your voice was rising now, frustration boiling over. “Vi, do you ever get tired of pushing me away before I can even think about leaving?”

“I’m not pushing you away!”

“The hell you aren’t!” You threw your hands in the air. “Every single time we get close, really close, you find some reason to run. And now? Now you’re making up some bullshit excuse about my ex to convince yourself that I’d be better off without you?”

Vi’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t deny it.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Unbelievable. You know what, fine. If that’s what you really want, if you actually think I’d be happier with someone else, just say it. Say you don’t want me.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms, your jaw tight with frustration. “Go on. Say it, Vi.”

Her eyes burned as she snapped back, her voice rising. “You know you would!” She let out a harsh breath. “It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact! I’m not good for you! You just said it yourself—I keep finding reasons to push you away. Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t hear the shit my own mind tells me every single day?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe we should just end this now. Before either of us gets hurt.”

That did it.

Your anger flared, white-hot, because how dare she?

Like you weren’t already hurting.

Like you weren’t already attached.

Like your mom didn’t greet her with a smile and a homemade chocolate cake every time you visited.

“You always say that,” you spat, voice shaking. “Like it’s some kind of mercy. Like you’re doing me a favor. Before we get hurt? Vi, I’m already hurt!”

She flinched, but you didn’t stop.

“I have never once doubted my feelings for you. Not for a second. But you? You doubt everything. You push me away and then act like it’s inevitable. Like you’re just sparing me from some big, tragic heartbreak when the only person breaking my heart right now is you.”

Her breathing was ragged, hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she didn’t interrupt.

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You know what? Fine. If you think this is the right thing to do, if you really believe I’d be better off without you, then I won’t fight you on it anymore.”

You turned, yanking open the studio door. But before you stepped out, you hesitated—just long enough to deliver one last blow.

“Hope you’re finally free from me.”

And then you walked out, slamming the door behind you.

There were a lot of things in life you weren’t sure about.

Like whether the degree you earned was what you actually wanted to do for the rest of your life. Or what you were going to have for dinner. Or if you’d ever figure out how to fold a fitted sheet properly.

But you were sure about Violet.

You were sure she was the love of your life.

You were sure that one day, you would marry her. That you’d grow old together. That maybe—maybe—you’d even have kids, even though that was one of the things you weren’t sure about.

Even with everything life threw your way, you were sure about her.

But sometimes, love isn’t enough.

No matter how much you give, no matter how patient you are, no matter how many times you try to show them—I’m here. I’m not leaving. Please, just let me love you!—it doesn’t always work.

Because love is a two-way street, and if one person keeps building walls instead of bridges, eventually, you run out of ways to reach them.

You had tried. God, had you tried.

You stayed through every storm, through every fight, through every moment she tried to push you away. You picked up the pieces when she shattered, even when it meant cutting yourself on the shards.

But there’s only so much a person can take.

There are only so many times you can be pushed away before you finally stay away.

And as much as you hated proving her right, after the hundredth time she told you to leave—you did.

And it was the worst pain of your life. Worse than that time you tried to ride your pink bicycle down a hill and broke both of your arms. Worse than any heartbreak you’d ever imagined.

Because she was supposed to be your forever.

────────────��─────────

Vi would be lying if she said that after your awful encounter at the coffee shop, she didn’t wait for you to call her—maybe to yell at her some more, to say all the things she knew she deserved to hear.

Because even if that was the only thing she could get from you, she would take it.

Anything was better than the silence.

But you didn’t call. You didn’t text.

And she understood why. She wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t try, you couldn’t keep trying for her.

She just didn’t know how.

Vi had spent her whole life in survival mode—fighting, running, enduring. She knew how to throw a punch, how to take a hit, how to push people away before they could hurt her first.

But feelings? Talking? Healing?

She didn’t know what any of that looked like.

So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

She screwed things up a little bit more.

Yes, resorting to drinking wasn’t healthy. No, it wouldn’t solve her problems. But it would make them go away for a while, and right now, that was all she needed.

That’s how she found herself in the nearest nightclub she could find, a whiskey glass in her hand, watching as colorful lights flashed around her. The bass pounded through her chest, drowning out the thoughts she didn’t want to deal with.

“Rough night?”

Vi barely turned her head as some random red head slid into the seat next to her at the bar. She was pretty, in that effortless kind of way, with a confident smirk that told Vi exactly what she was after.

“You could say that” Vi muttered before downing the rest of her drink.

The girl leaned in, her fingers ghosting over Vi’s bicep. “Well… maybe I can make it better.”

Once upon a time, Vi might have taken her up on that offer. A distraction, a warm body, something to make her forget for just a little while.

But the only touch she craved—the only lips she wanted—weren’t here.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not tonight.”

The girl pouted, but she didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”

As she walked away, Vi signaled the bartender for another drink. Because if she couldn’t have you, she could at least have the illusion of feeling something.

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You were woken up by the sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand. Groaning, you reached for it without much thought, still half-asleep.

“Hello?”

At first, all you could hear on the other end was breathing—slow, uneven.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

A beat of silence. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Can you open your door, please?”

Vi.

You sat up instantly, now fully awake. “Vi? What are you talking about? It’s three in the morning.”

“I just—” A loud thud echoed through the phone, followed by a muffled, “Fuck.”

Your brows furrowed. “Vi, what the hell was that? Where are you?”

“I just need to talk to you” she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Please. You can yell at me all you want, I just… I just want to hear your voice.”

You ran a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “Are you drunk right now? Seriously?”

Silence. Then, barely above a whisper—

“Yeah.”

You closed your eyes, gripping the bridge of your nose. The last thing you wanted was to let her back in after everything, after the pushing and pulling, after the damage she’d done. But a bigger part of you—the part that still ached for her, that never stopped worrying—was already swinging its legs out of bed and heading for the door.

You cracked it open, and there she was.

Vi stood in your doorway, hood up, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket like she was trying to make herself smaller. Even in the dim glow of the hallway light, you could see the exhaustion in her face—red-rimmed eyes, the way her shoulders sagged like she was holding the weight of the world.

“You look like shit” you muttered.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Feels like it too.”

You should’ve slammed the door in her face. You should’ve told her to go home, sleep it off, leave you alone.

Instead, you stepped aside.

“Come in.”

And she did, wobbling slightly as she walked in.

She looked so out of place in your living room. The red jacket she always wore stood out against the neutral tones of your space—like a warning sign, like a memory that never quite faded.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched at the sight of her. “What do you want, Vi?” You didn’t even try to mask the exhaustion in your voice. “Why are you here?”

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before finally meeting your eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“I don’t know” she admitted, voice rough, unsteady. “I was supposed to go home. I was going home, and then I just… got here.”

You let out a sigh. “That’s not an answer.”

Vi winced, shifting on her feet like she was struggling to find the right words. But words were never her strong suit, were they? She had always been better with actions—though most of them were reckless and self-destructive.

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair.

After everything she’d said, after everything she’d done—after making you leave—she still expected you to be here, to pick up the pieces when she was falling apart.

"You don't get to do this, Vi” you whispered, barely trusting your voice. "You don’t get to throw me away and then show up at my door like I’m supposed to fix you."

Her breath hitched. "I know. I know, and I’m—" She hesitated, the words getting stuck in her throat. "I fucked up, okay? I fucked up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes.

"But I want to…"

You could count on one hand how many times you'd seen Vi cry. And most of those times had been involuntary—after waking up from a nightmare, lost in the haze of half-conscious panic, when her body betrayed her before her mind could shut it down.

But now, she was standing in your living room, crying. Her shoulders shook, and she wiped furiously at her eyes, like she was trying to erase the evidence of her own weakness.

"I've said it before, but it's true this time. I promise." Her voice cracked—raw, desperate. "And you can yell at me all you want. You can throw every awful thing I said back in my face, because I would rather have you angry at me than this." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Being apart hurts. The silence is killing me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to steady yourself. This isn’t fair.

"You think I wanted to leave?" you asked, voice quiet but firm. "You think I wanted to spend nights wondering if you were okay, if you were sleeping, if you were eating? Do you know how many times I almost called you?"

Vi's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

"I loved you, Vi. And I spent so much time trying to prove to you that I wasn't going anywhere. But no matter how much I tried, you never let me in."

"I was scared" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know" you said. "I know. And I still tried. But you made me believe that I was never going to be enough for you."

Vi took a step closer. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" you asked, shaking your head. "You were scared I would leave, but you were the one who kept pushing me away. Over and over again."

Vi exhaled shakily, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"I want to be better," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "I don’t want to keep running. I don’t want to keep ruining things." She looked at you, her expression open—vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure you'd ever seen before. "And I don’t know if I deserve another chance, but if there’s even the smallest part of you that thinks I do…"

She hesitated.

"Then I’ll spend every day proving to you that I can be better."

Your heart felt like it was being crushed. You loved—love—Vi. You always have, and you probably always will. But feeling so insecure, so scared all the time that you would wake up one day and she would just decide this was over, made you think twice.

"I… I love you. I really do." Your voice wavered as you let out a humorless laugh. "You were the only thing I was ever certain about in my life. You were my forever."

Vi took a step closer, her breath hitching. "I still am…"

"How can I be sure?" Your voice cracked, anger and exhaustion mixing into one. "How can I know that you won’t wake up one day and decide that I’m too good for you? That you don’t deserve me? Or some other crazy shit your brain makes you believe—and just leave? Do you have any idea what that would do to me?"

Vi flinched, guilt flashing across her face.

As much as you tried not to be angry—because she was drunk, because she was vulnerable—you were only human.

"I know you're scared" you said, your voice tight. "I know you think you aren’t worthy of my love. But have you ever stopped to think about how I feel?"

She stayed silent.

"When you look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just like everyone else? That I’ll leave? That I’ll hurt you?" You shook your head, your nails digging into your palms. "Do you think so little of me?"

Vi's lips parted, but no words came out. All she could do was stare at you, her blue eyes filled with regret, sorrow, and something deeper—something she wasn’t sure how to voice.

And for the first time, maybe ever, you saw it hit her. The weight of what she had done. The hurt she had caused. The damage she had left in her wake.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her own emotions. Quiet tears still flowed down her face, unchecked. “I’m sorry I hurt you so bad, but I promise I’ll be better. I promise I’ll do anything and everything in my power to never make you feel like that again.”

You let out a deep breath, the anger you felt still simmering in your gut.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Your voice was tired, drained. “When you’re sober and I’m not angry anymore?”

Vi nodded, quickly, almost desperately. And the look in her eyes made you doubt everything all over again. It was like she had this power over you—one puppy dog-eyed look and you were gone.

But you couldn’t let that sway you. Not again.

“You can sleep on the couch” you said, turning away before she could break you down any further. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

Vi stood there for a moment, watching you disappear down the hall. She wanted to convince you that she meant it this time. That she wasn’t going to run, wasn’t going to push you away again.

But after everything she had done, after all the times she had broken your heart—what right did she have to ask you to believe her?

So she didn’t. She just sat down on the couch, burying her face in her hands, listening to the sound of you rustling through the closet.

Hoping—praying—that when morning came, you’d still listen to her.

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You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night tossing and turning in your bed, too aware of the woman in your living room, too aware of the decisions you had to make. The weight of it all pressed down on you, the endless cycle of pushing and pulling, of loving and hurting. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes, then the hours, as your mind ran in circles.

You tried to convince yourself that it was simple. That love should be enough. If you loved each other, you should just betogether—happy, whole, like life was a perfectly wrapped gift waiting to be opened.

But life wasn’t a fairytale, and love wasn’t always the answer.

That was never the question in your relationship. You knew Vi loved you. And she knew you loved her. But love alone couldn’t erase the damage, the doubts, the nights spent wondering if she would hurt you again. Love couldn’t fix the way she closed off the moment things got hard, or how you were always left picking up the pieces.

You turned onto your side, pressing your face into the pillow with a frustrated sigh. Sleep wasn’t coming—not when your mind was a storm of thoughts crashing into each other.

Lying there, restless, wasn’t helping. So you got up, dragging your feet to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of coffee would bring you the clarity you needed, even if it meant breaking your self-imposed caffeine ban.

You had just poured yourself a mug when a voice made you jump.

“I thought you were trying to quit coffee.”

Vi stood at the kitchen entrance, her hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. In the dim morning light, she looked softer—almost like the Violet you used to know, before everything fell apart.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, wrapping your hands around your mug for warmth, “I couldn’t sleep, so I kind of need this right now.”

You took a sip without thinking, the heat grounding you for a moment—until your eyes landed on the words printed on the ceramic.

World’s Best Girlfriend.

Your stomach twisted. She had gotten it for you on your birthday, grinning as she handed it over, laughing about how “cheesy” it was. At the time, it had been a joke. Now, it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you had lost.

Vi’s gaze flickered to the mug in your hands, and for a second, you thought you saw something break behind her eyes.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to act normal, pretending it didn’t sting as much as it did. You gestured toward the cabinet. “You know where the mugs are if you want some.”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Yeah… okay.”

She moved across the kitchen, opening the cabinet with an ease that shouldn’t have felt so natural anymore. As if she had never left. As if she still belonged here.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, but neither of you knew how to break it.

So you just stood there, eyes locked, memories playing like an old film reel in your mind.

You remembered the time Vi tried to bake you a cake for Valentine’s Day, how the middle was still raw, and you both ended up eating the edges with spoons, laughing the whole time. You remembered that one New Year’s Eve when you sat on the kitchen floor, eating instant noodles and drinking cheap champagne because the party you were supposed to go to had been a bust. You remembered the lazy mornings, the soft kisses, the way she used to sneak up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist as you made coffee.

But you also remembered the fights. The slammed doors. The cabinets shut with a little too much force. The nights spent crying, feeling like the love you had wasn’t enough to keep her.

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. “Do you remember that time you got a little too invested in sourdough and kept trying to make a starter? And you read somewhere that keeping it in a warm place helped, so you left it in the oven?” She gave you a small, lopsided smile. “But then you forgot about it and preheated the oven for something else, and the house smelled like burned bread for a week?”

A surprised laugh burst out of you, unbidden. “God, yes.” You groaned, shaking your head. “And then you made it worse by trying to air it out with a box fan, but all it did was spread the smell into every room?”

Vi chuckled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “In my defense, I thought it was a solid plan.”

You snorted, taking another sip of coffee. “It was a terrible plan.”

The moment lingered, stretching between you like a fragile thread. For a second, it almost felt like things were normal, like the past few months hadn’t happened.

But they had.

“I miss you,” you whispered, barely audible, like you were afraid of the words themselves—afraid she would hear them, afraid she wouldn’t. “I missed you every single second.”

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers twitching at her sides, like she wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

You set your mug down with a quiet clink, steadying yourself. You were done crying. You had spent too many nights crying over this already.

“And I spent the whole night weighing the pros and cons of this relationship. I just…” You swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m so scared, Violet.”

Your voice cracked on her name, and Vi flinched like you had physically struck her.

“I know,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours. “I am too.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re both too scared. Scared to lose each other, scared to stay, scared that loving each other won’t be enough.”

Vi took a hesitant step forward. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she admitted, her voice unsteady. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away just because I think it’s easier than letting you stay. I just—” she exhaled, shaking her head, “I just need to know if there’s even a chance. Even the smallest chance that you’ll give me one more shot.”

You stared at her, at the woman you had loved for so long, the one who had broken your heart and was now standing before you, asking for another piece of it.

And the worst part?

You wanted to give it to her.

So you nodded, hesitantly, barely daring to breathe. “I don’t want to regret this, Vi. I’m exhausted from this push and pull. But I love you too much to let you go.”

Vi’s lips parted slightly, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face—small, hesitant, but real.

“Maybe it’s a little selfish. Maybe I’m insane” you admitted, exhaling shakily. “But yes, I’ll give you one more chance.”

Vi let out a breath she had been holding, something like relief flashing across her face. “I won’t waste it,” she swore, stepping closer, cautious but hopeful. “I swear on—” she let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head, “on every bad decision I’ve ever made, I won’t waste it.”

You arched a brow. “That’s a lot of bad decisions, Vi.”

She laughed, and the sound was so familiar, so her, that your chest ached. It was the same laugh that used to fill your apartment, the same one that made you fall in love with her in the first place.

“Yeah, well… I guess I have a lot to make up for.”

You studied her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt, any crack in the resolve she was promising you. But all you found was sincerity—raw and unfiltered, painted across her expression in a way that made it impossible to doubt her.

So, once more, you let yourself believe her.

And when she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around you, you let yourself melt into her.

Like you always did, like you always would.

Her grip on you was firm but not desperate. Not like she was afraid you would slip away—more like she was certain she wouldn’t let go this time. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, her face tucked against your shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she breathed.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a single moment of peace.

“But I’m still mad at you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by her body against yours.

Vi let out a breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating against you. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’d be mad at me too.”

She didn’t try to defend herself, didn’t try to justify the things she had done. She just held you, letting the weight of everything settle between you.

And somehow, despite all the pain, all the uncertainty—she knew, deep in her bones, that everything was going to be okay.

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[mostly-marvel-musings]

Interruption

A/N: A surprise smut? Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ oral sex.

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

The moment your knees hit the floor before him, Tony knew he was goner. He’d been a sucker for that smart mouth on you and the wonders your tongue could do.

His cock was already straining against his pants as you stroked him over his denims, his bulge growing painful with every passing second. The sly grin on your face indicated you had plans of taking your time tonight, making him beg for release which he’d never admit but secretly loved.

“Undo my pants at least, Y/N, you’re killing me here.” Tony murmured, giving your hair a gentle but firm tug.

“You missed the magic word, Stark..” you smirked, toying with the button his jeans, waiting.

Rolling his eyes, Tony tried coaxing you to unbutton but you being you, simply blinked up at the billionaire.

“Please, Y/N.” he gave in, relieved as you lowered the zipper and pushed the fabric constraints down his legs. His boxers were the next to be ridden, you giggled softly as he practically sighed at his erect cock springing free.

“What now?” Your voice laced with innocence while your mind was devious, wanting to hear him say where and how he needed you. It had become somewhat of a kink for you.

“Take me in that dirty little mouth of yours. All of me.” Tony gripped your hair behind your head, watching as your tongue peeked out to wet your bottom lip at the sight of his length.

Obliging, you opened your mouth and slowly tested the waters, letting just tip of him inside, already tasting the salty eagerness there. Tony let out a soft grunt as your mouth enveloped his cock in a sense of familiarity, making it twitch in a way that only you could manage.

Just as you were about to swallow more of him, your phone rang loud and shrill, disturbing the sensual quiet of the night. Tony being closest to where it was kept on your dresser, glanced at the name and let out a huff of annoyance.

“It’s the annoying prick from your work. Why is he calling you at this hour?”

“Will? I don’t know.” You momentarily left his cock unattended to answer him, still on your knees, not exactly wanting to get up to answer the phone.

“No. It’s Richard. Wait—how many guys are trying their luck with you here? I’m gonna answer this for you.” Tony muttered, rolling his eyes as he picked up your phone.

Shrugging in nonchalance, you resumed your task at hand, this time, tracing the vein that ran on the underside of his cock rather languidly while you heard him speak to your colleague.

“Y/N? Oh! She uh, she’s a bit pre-occupied right now.” He was annoyed as the guy instead of hanging up began asking your whereabouts. Glancing down at you, Tony could see you press your thighs together, as if knowing someone else could be listening in turned you on. 

Nodding once, Tony watched his cock disappear as you let your velvety warmth encompass him completely, his breath hitching as his grip on your phone tightened.

“Do you want to leave a message for her, she’s really working hard on something here.” He shook his head as you grinned, still stuffed with him, now letting your tongue do its thing, the thing that drove your boyfriend absolutely crazy.

Tony cursed under his breath, not caring if your colleague heard him or the little sinful moan you’d uttered while you worked him up to his climax. You knew just what he liked so your hand that earlier gripped his thigh had joined the party, tending to his balls while his length twitched in your mouth, signalling he was close.

“Ah fuck! Just like that, Y/N.”

Tony looked rather smug as the person on the other line caught on what was happening, awkwardly excusing himself before the line went silent. You couldn’t care less, bringing Tony pleasure was your sole focus as you did just that, feeling his legs shuffle a little as his muscles tensed.

“I’m gonna—”

He didn’t get to finish as you continued your ministrations, only slowing down when you felt spurts of hot cum shoot down your throat, and Tony’s loud moans fill the room as he emptied his seed.

Pleased, you stood up with a cat-ate-the-canary smile, pulling him in for a kiss which you both sighed into, evidence of your doing lingering on your tongue.

“What a hot menace you are.” Tony murmured against your lips, making you chuckle.

“But I’m your hot menace, aren’t I?”

“That’s right. And these bozos need to know that. I’m gonna make sure they do.” Tony muttered with a pout, already making plans for announcing to the goddamn world that you were taken.

[sillylilsquid]

𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊

♥︎summary: Thanos and you have always been each other’s safe place. You helped him through his darkest moments, but now you’re the one spiraling—reckless nights, self-destructive choices, and a past she won’t face. Thanos refuses to let you slip away, stepping in when things go too far. A getaway forces buried truths to surface, blurring the lines of their relationship as old wounds and unspoken feelings collide. But healing isn’t easy, and neither is love. He makes you feel something. Something like safe.

♥︎trigger warnings: au, no squid game. sexual themes, brief descriptions addiction, mentions of sa(nothing in depth, just implied), suggestive photos, blackmailing reader w/ said suggestive photos, oc thanos. minors dni!! 18+

♥︎a/n: 12.4k words. plz enjoy!! i have been writing so much lately, so be on the look out for much more hehe 🖤

The first time you ever saw Thanos cry was in the alley behind a convenience store, vape in one hand, bruised knuckles on the other. He didn’t say much, just mumbled something about how he was “so fucking tired,” voice thick and strained, like he had been holding it in for too long. You sat beside him on the curb, handed him the bottle of cheap soju you had bought on impulse, and let him talk when he was ready. That night, he told you about the weight of expectations, the suffocating grip of addiction, and the fear that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t strong enough to pull himself out of it.

The first time he saw you cry was in your car outside your ex’s apartment. You hadn’t meant to call him, but your fingers moved faster than your brain, and before you knew it, he was there–leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed, waiting. You were embarrassed at first, wiping at your cheeks furiously, trying to play it off, but Thanos didn’t buy it. Instead, he sighed, climbed into the car, and cranked up the heat. “Alright, babe,” he had said, voice softer than usual. “You wanna cry about it first, or you wanna tell me what happened?”

The first time you saw him high, it scared the hell out of you. He wasn’t himself, not really. His eyes were distant, movements sluggish, laughter hollow. You had heard the rumors, but seeing it with your own eyes was different. That night, you dragged him out of some shitty house party, ignoring the protests, the slurred reassurances that he was “fine.” You had sat him down on your couch, forced him to drink water, made sure he didn’t choke in his sleep. And in the morning, when the weight of his choices settled in, you didn’t scold him. You just made him coffee and told him, “I’m not going anywhere, you know that, right?”

And now…now things were different. Now, it was you spiraling. Now, it was you disappearing for days, shutting people out, then swinging to the opposite extreme–going out, drinking too much, spending money like it was nothing. You told yourself you were fine, but Thanos wasn’t buying it.

Thanos noticed it in the little things first. The way your texts became inconsistent–sometimes flooding his phone with nonsense at three in the morning, other times leaving his messages on read for days. The way you bounced between isolation and excess, spending entire weekends locked away in your apartment only to turn around and blow money on drinks for strangers at clubs you didn’t even like.

At first, he let it slide. Everyone went through phases. But then it started feeling less like a phase and more like a pattern. 

The night he really knew something was wrong, he wasn’t even supposed to see you. You’d blown him off earlier in the day with some half assed excuse, so he was surprised when he spotted you across the club, drink in hand, laughing too loudly at something some random guy said.

You looked good–too good. The kind of good that wasn’t for yourself but for someone else. A mask. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, eyes a little too glossy, smile a little too wide. He watched as the guy leaned in closer, fingers ghosting over your wrist, and something in Thanos’ chest tightened. 

Then he saw it; the exact moment you tipped past tipsy into reckless. The way your hands wavered when you reached for another drink. The way your smile faltered for half a second when the guy leaned in too close.

The slight flick of the guy’s wrist, the quick glance around before he tilted a small packet over your drink. Subtle. Almost too quick to notice. But Thanos saw everything.

That was it. That was too far. Thanos was already moving before he could think twice, his jaw set, his steps purposeful as he cut through the crowd toward you.

Within seconds, he was at your side, snatching the glass from your hand before you could take another sip. “What the–?” You blinked up at him, startled, your expression shifting from confusion to irritation in an instant.

Thanos didn’t even spare you a glance. His eyes were locked on the guy, his entire body radiating something dangerous, something dark. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low. Deadly.

The guy hesitated, feigning innocence. “Man, chill. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wrong answer.

Thanos didn’t need to explain. He reached forward, grabbing the guy by the collar, yanking him close enough that their noses almost touched. “You think I didn’t see that shit?” His voice dropped to a whisper, sharp as a blade. “You wanna try that again, see what happens?”

The guy’s face paled instantly, his bravado crumbling. “A-alright, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just–just having fun.”

Thanos let out a humorless laugh, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before he shoved the guy backward, making him stumble. “Get the fuck out of here. Before I really lose my temper.”

The guy didn’t need to be told twice. He practically ran the second Thanos released his death grip on his shirt.

You, on the other hand, weren’t running. You were staring at Thanos, arms crossed, lips pursed in frustration. “What the hell was that?” 

Thanos exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through his hair. “That guy put something in your drink.”

You frowned. “No, he didn’t.” Thanos clenched his jaw. “I saw him, babe.”

For a second, something faltered in your expression. Something uncertain. But then, just as quickly, it was gone–replaced by irritation, defiance. “Okay, well, thanks for the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

Thanos scoffed, his patience thinning. “Yeah? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it sure as hell doesn’t look like it.” You glared at him. “I didn’t ask you to come save me.” “No, you didn’t,” he shot back. “But that’s never stopped me before.”

There was a beat of tense silence. Then, Thanos sighed, his voice softening. “Come on, babe. Let’s get out of here.”

Your jaw tensed, and your hands curled into loose fists at your sides. You wanted to argue, wanted to fight him on this, but deep down, you knew–he wasn’t giving you a choice. And even in your drunken stupor, a part of you didn’t want one.

You let out a frustrated sigh, crossing your arms as Thanos gently grabbed your wrist, guiding you through the crowd. You could’ve pulled away, but something about the way his fingers curled around yours, firm but not forceful, made you stay.

The cold night air slapped against your skin the second you stepped outside. It should have sobered you up, but instead, it just made the world tilt a little more. You stumbled slightly, and before you could catch yourself, Thanos’ arm was around your waist, steadying you.

“Easy, babe.” He murmured.

You huffed, pushing at his chest. “I told you–I don’t need you to save me.”

Thanos arched a brow. “Yeah? ‘Cause if I wasn’t here, you’d be drinking something laced with God-knows-what right now.”

Your stomach twisted, a sliver of doubt creeping in. You wanted to believe he was wrong, that he was overreacting–but deep down, you knew he wasn’t. It only made you angrier.

“Why do you even care so much?” you snapped. “You’re acting like you are my fucking dad or something.” Thanos let out a sharp breath, running a hand down his face. He was trying to be patient. You could tell.

“Because, babe,” he said, his voice softer this time, “I’ve seen where this leads.” His eyes locked onto yours, unyielding. “And I’m not gonna stand by and watch you burn yourself out.”

Your throat tightened, your eyes stinging. You swallowed it down, shaking your head, trying to hold on to the anger. It was easier that way.

“You don’t get it,” you muttered. “I just…I just needed a break, okay?” Thanos frowned. “A break from what?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Because how the hell were you supposed to explain it? The exhaustion that never went away, the feeling of drowning even when everything was fine, the way your own mind felt like a prison half the time?

Instead, you just scoffed, shoving at his chest again. “Whatever. I’ll just call a cab.” Thanos’ jaw ticked. “No. You’re coming with me.” Your eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Thanos held your gaze as if completely unfazed. “You throwing a tantrum right now, babe?” Your nostrils flared. “I’m not–”

“Cause it kinda seems like you are.” He smirked, tilting his head. “You wanna kick your feet, too? Maybe scream a little?” 

Your face burned with frustration. “I hate you.” Thanos snorted. “Sure you do. Now get in the damn car.”

Before you could protest, he was steering you toward his car, opening the door for you like it was already decided. You hesitated. Considered fighting him on this. For some reason though, you let him push you into the passenger seat. And when he shut the door behind you, you stared out the window, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the fact that for the first time in weeks you didn’t feel completely alone.

The drive was quiet. Not the comfortable kind, where words weren’t needed. This was tense–thick with everything left unsaid.

You sat with your arms crossed, staring out the window like the streetlights were the most interesting thing in the world. Thanos, for once, wasn’t pushing you to talk. He just kept one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lightly against his thigh, his eyes flicking toward you every so often.

You could feel it. His worry. His frustration. They way he was biting his tongue. It made your chest feel tight.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on with you?” Thanos finally asked, voice steady but careful, like he was trying not to spook you.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. “I already told you,” you snapped. “I just needed a break.”

He hummed, clearly unimpressed with that answer. “A break from what, babe?” The nickname making you groan. You shut your eyes, willing away the lump forming in your throat. “Everything.”

Thanos sighed. “That’s not an answer.” “Well, it’s the only one I’ve got,” you muttered, nails digging into your palms.

A beat of silence. Then– “You know this isn’t you, right?” It made your chest feel tight. “You don’t know who I am.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “Bullshit. You’re not the type to black out every weekend. You don’t throw money around like it means nothing. And you sure as hell don’t let random assholes buy you drinks without knowing what’s in ‘em.”

You flinched. “I wasn’t–” “Yeah, you were.” His voice wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t soft either. Just honest. “And that’s not you, babe. So, what the hell is going on?”

No words left your mouth. You just continued to stare down at your lap. What was going on?

You wanted to explain it, but how did you explain something you didn’t even fully understand yourself? How did you put into words the exhaustion, the weight in your chest that never really went away, the way everything felt too much and not enough at the same time?

Instead, all you could do was whisper, “I don’t know.”

Thanos glanced at you, something unreadable flickering across his face. “That’s not good enough.” 

Your head snapped up, irritation flaring again. “Well, sorry if my personal crisis isn’t meeting your fucking standards.”

Thanos didn’t flinch. “You wanna yell at me, babe? Fine. Go ahead. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breath hitched. That was the problem, wasn’t it. That he was still here, even when you were doing everything to push him away. You turned back toward the window, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “Just take me home, Thanos.”

A long pause. Then, instead of agreeing, he said, “Nah.” Your head whipped around, glaring. “What?”

Thanos’ grip tightened on the wheel as he made a sharp turn, heading the complete opposite direction of your apartment. “You think I’m dropping you off so you can sit in the dark and wallow? Yeah, no. Not happening.”

“Thanos–” “Relax, babe. I’m not kidnapping you.” His lips twitched, but his voice was firm. “You need air. You need to get out of your head for a bit. So, humor me.”

The fight was slipping out of you, leaving only exhaustion in its place. So, instead of yelling, instead of insisting that you just wanted to be alone, you sighed, slumping back into your seat. “Fine.”

Thanos smirked, reaching over to poke your cheek. “There’s my girl.” You huffed, smacking his hand away, but for the first time that your lips twitched just slightly. Just a little.

You didn’t realize where he was taking you until the neon lights of the 24-hour convenience store came into view. You blinked. “Seriously?” 

He pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, throwing the car into park. “What? You thought I was about to hit you with some deep, inspirational shit?” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Nah, babe. You need a snack.”

You frowned, your body still tense from everything. “A snack?” “A snack,” he repeated, already opening his door. “Now get your ass inside.”

For a second, you debated being difficult just for the sake of it. But then your stomach grumbled–loudly–betraying you as Thanos shot you a knowing look. “Uh-huh,” he smirked. “That’s what I thought.” You rolled your eyes but pushed open the door anyway, stepping out into the cool night air.

The store was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerators and the scratchy pop song playing over the speaker. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you trailed behind Thanos, watching as he made a beeline for the snack aisle like he had a mission.

“Arlight,” he said, clasping his hands together. “What’s it gonna be, babe?” Sweet, salty, or ‘I have zero impulse control’?” Shaking your head you mumbled, “I’m not even hungry.”

Thanos ignored you completely, already reaching for a bag of chips. “That’s crazy, ‘cause I don’t remember asking.” You glared, but there wasn’t any real heat behind it. “You’re annoying.” “And you’re cranky when you’re hungry, " he shot back, crouching to grab something off the bottom shelf. “So, I’m doing us both a favor.”

A sigh fell from your lips, and you ran a hand through your tangled hair. The weight of the night is still pressing on you like a too-heavy coat. A tiny part of you, the stubborn part, thinks you should have insisted that you just wanted to go home. But instead, you found yourself feeling a little better than earlier just standing beside him, staring at the shelves.

A pack of strawberry Pocky caught your eye. Thanos followed your gaze, then grabbed it without hesitation. You frowned. “I didn’t say I wanted that.” “You didn’t have to.” Something about the way he said it–so casual, so certain–made your throat tighten.

You swallowed hard, looking away. “Anything else?” he asked, like he hadn’t just sent your brain into overdrive. You reached for a small carton of chocolate milk and looked up at him. “Happy?” Thanos grinned. “Proud of you, babe.” You rolled your eyes, but the fight in you felt smaller. Softer. The tension in your chest hadn’t disappeared, but it wasn’t unbearable. 

After checking out, the two of you climbed into the backseat of his car, the world outside dim and quiet. Thanos sprawled out in the corner, legs stretched across the seat, while you tucked yourself into the opposite side, knees drawn up to your chest. The only light came from the streetlamps outside, casting a faint glow over the dashboard. 

He ripped open a bag of chips, tossing one into his mouth before looking over at you. “Alright, so are we gonna talk about it, or do I just keep stuffing you with snacks until you’re too full to be sad?” 

Staring down at the carton in your hands you hesitated before opening it, taking a small sip but keeping your eyes casted away from him. “There’s nothing to really talk about.” Thanos made a face. “Wrong. Try again.”

Your jaw clenched, willing yourself not to snap at him. He was trying to care for you, you couldn’t hurt his feelings. “I just–” you let out a slow breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Thanos stretched out, his legs spread wide with his knee resting against yours, and his arm along the back of the seat. “Ain’t nothing wrong with you, babe.” You let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? Feels like there is.”

He was quiet for a moment, watching you. Then he spoke, “You ever see a dog freak out ‘cause they got the zoomies?” Your brows pulled together. “What?”

Thanos smirked. “You know, like when they start running around in circles like a damn maniac, then five minutes later, they pass out like they fought a war?” You stared at him then, unamused. “Are you comparing me to a dog?” “More like a chihuahua,” he teased, stealing one of your Pocky.

“Thanos.” He snorted but shifted closer, nudging you with his knee. “I’m saying maybe your brain’s got the zoomies. You go, go, go–party, spend, drink, whatever–and then you crash. Hard.” 

Your fingers tightened around the carton. “Yeah, well…what am I supposed to do about it?” Thanos tilted his head, studying you for a second. Then he reached over, poking the side of your face until you turned to look at him. “For starters? Let me help.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want help. But letting someone in–really in–was terrifying. He knew a lot about you, but this one thing…it was something you never wanted to let out of the depths of your brain.

Thanos must’ve seen it written all over your face because he nudged you again, his voice softer when he said, “You don’t gotta do it alone, babe.” Your throat felt tight again, and this time you didn’t fight. Instead, you just nodded.

Thanos’ apartment was quiet, dimly lit by the lamp in his room. You sat on the edge of his bed, your hair damp from a shower sticking to the oversize hoodies he’d given you–his favorite, one that smelled like him. The sleeves were too long, the fabric soft against your skin, and yet you still felt cold. He’d offered you a pair of sweatpants, but you turned them down opting to stay in your underwear.

He sat next to you, one leg bent up on the bed, his arm draped casually over the back of the headboard. He’d given you space since the talk in the car, not pushing, not pressing, just…waiting.

It was familiar the way the two of you could just exist in the same space with no pressures or expectations. But your body was tense, your mind racing with everything you still hadn’t said.

Thanos watched you, his gaze heavy, like he was trying to figure out what was running through your head. Then, after a moment, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“You feeling a little better?” he murmured. You let out a slow breath. “Yeah.” He huffed, skepticals, but didn’t call you on it. Instead, his fingers found the edge of your sleeve, tugging it lightly.

“You’re cute when you steal my shit,” he said, teasingly. You rolled your eyes. “You gave it to me.” “Same thing.” He smirked, but it was softer now, like he was trying to ease you into something without making you realize it.

Your chest felt tight. He was always like this–always knew when you needed space, when you needed patience. When you needed him. Maybe that’s why, when he leaned in, when he brushed against yours, you let yourself melt into it. 

It wasn’t new. You’d done this before, had kissed him more times than you could count–on impulse, on drunken nights, whenever the two of you were bored, or nights like this when you just needed to feel something.

But the moment his fingers brushed the back of your neck something inside of you snapped. Your body went rigid. A cold, nauseating panic clawed up your throat, and before you even realized what you were doing, you pushed him away.

“Wait–” your voice came out uneven, breathless, like you’d just been caught underwater. Thanos immediately pulled back, hands up, brows furrowed. “Hey. You good?”

Your pulse was hammering, your vision blurring at the edges. No, you weren’t good. You curled your arms around yourself, shrinking into the hoodie like it might shield you from the weight of what you’d been carrying.

Thanos sat still, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t annoyed. He was just waiting. Waiting for you to say something.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “It’s not you,” you whispered. Thanos’ gaze softened. “I know.” He tilted his head slightly, studying. “Talk to me, babe.”

Fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves. You hadn’t told anyone. Not a single person. Saying it out loud made it real, made it something you couldn’t shove into the back of your mind and pretend it didn’t exist.

But Thanos was still there. Still waiting. Still looking at you like you weren’t broken, like you weren’t ruined. Your breath shuddered, you knew you had to tell him. 

“It was a hookup,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I-I thought I was okay with it, but…I wasn’t.”

Thanos didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. But his whole body had gone still, like a wire pulled too tight. You couldn’t look at him. If you did, you’d fall apart. So you just kept talking, your voice shaking, your fingers gripping your sleeves so tightly it hurt.

“I was drunk,” you admitted, the words burning as they left your mouth. “Not blacked out, but enough that things were hazy. I remember saying no at first, telling him to slow down, but he just kept–” your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force the memory away. “I don’t know. Maybe I should’ve pushed harder, or maybe I just froze, but then suddenly it was happening, and I couldn’t–I just–”

“Babe.” You froze. Thanos reached out, slowly, carefully, giving you the chance to pull away. When you didn’t, his fingers brushed over your knuckles, warm and grounding. 

His voice was low and steady. “You didn’t misunderstand anything.” A lump formed in your throat. “I don’t–” “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, firm, leaving no room for argument. 

Your eyes burned. Shaking your head you looked down at your lap. “I just…” a shuddering breath escaped your lips. “I feel like I’m losing it.” 

Thanos hummed, like he was trying to reel himself in. Then he moved, shifting so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in–not tight, not suffocating, just enough for you to know he was there. “You’re not losing it,” he murmured against your hair. “And you’re not alone.” You squeezed your eyes shut, starting to believe him.

Honestly, you didn’t know if it was the way he was holding you–strong but careful, like he could keep you from falling apart–or if it was the way he looked at you, like nothing about you had changed, like you weren’t ruined.

But before you could stop yourself, you moved. Your hands found his face, fingers threading through his purple strands of hair as you pulled him in. Pressing your lips to his with a desperation that nearly frightened you.

Thanos didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, his lips firm and warm against yours. It wasn’t enough. You needed more.

You deepend it, shifting onto your knees, pressing your body against his. The weight of his hands landed on your waist, steadying you, his grip tightening when you tried to push closer. 

“Please,” you whispered against his lips, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Make me forget.” His breathing halted, and for a moment you thought he might give in. But then…

“No.” The word was firm, final. His hands gripped your waist tighter, but instead of pulling you in, he pushed you back, just enough to put space between you.

Your stomach twisted. “Thanos–” He exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath uneven. “You think I don’t want to?” His voice was rough, strained, like he was fighting against himself. “You think I don’t wanna touch you, hold you…help you forget?” His fingers flexed on your hips, and his jaw clenched. “But not like this,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Not when you’re hurting. Not when you’re trying to use me to erase something that’s not your fault.”

Your throat tightened, tears burning at the back of your eyes. “I just–” “I know.” His hands trailed up, brushing across your arms, warm and grounding. “But I won’t let you do this to yourself. And I won’t let anyone take anything from you again.”

His lips brushed against your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he pulled back, his thumbs stroking your sides. “You need sleep,” he murmured. “And tomorrow, we’re getting the hell out of here. Just you and me.” Your brows furrowed. “Where?” It made his lips quirk up in that cocky, familiar smirk. “You’ll see.”

The next day, true to his word, Thanos had all but dragged you out of bed, throwing your jeans at you and one of his shirts before hauling you into his car.

“You’re gonna love this,” he said, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled onto the highway. “I don’t even know where we’re going,” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

“Exactly,” he shot back, grinning. “That’s the best part.”

And maybe he was right, because when he finally pulled up to the spot you felt something shift inside you. A secluded little arcade tucked between two buildings, neon lights buzzing faintly in the air. It was small, almost unnoticeable. 

Thanos hopped out of the car, coming around to your side before you could open the door. He held his hand out. “Come on, babe. Time to let loose.” Slowly, you slipped your fingers into his. 

The arcade was dimly lit, filled with the sound of old-school games and muffled laughter. Thanos wasted no time dragging you toward a claw machine, eyes lighting up with challenge. 

“Watch and learn, sweetheart,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “You’re gonna lose,” you teased, arms crossed. He shot you a look. “I never lose.” You snorted. “Please. I’ve seen you get your ass handed to you in Street Fighter more times than I can count.”

“Okay, first of all,” he turned to face you, stepping closer, the playful glint in his eye shifting into something heavier. Something deeper. “You keep talking like that, babe, and I might have to shut you up.” The air between you shifted. Your breath caught in your throat. And just like that, the playfulness turned into something else entirely. Something you wanted.

Thanos must have seen the shift in your expression because his smirk widened. He stepped even closer, crowing you against the claw machine, his hands bracing on either side of you.

“You wanna keep talking, or you want me to put this mouth to better use?” Your pulse skyrocketed. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that you felt like yourself for the first time in weeks. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down, crashing your lips against his.

Thanos was having the time of his life messing with you. It started at the claw machine, where he somehow managed to win a stuffed bear on the first try. He shoved it into your arms with a smug grin. “For you,” he said, leaning in just enough for his breath to graze your ear. “To remember me when I’m not around.” “You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, hugging the bear to your chest anyway. 

Then came the air hockey table. Every time he scored a point, he’d make a big show of it–throwing his arms up, biting his lip like he just hit the game winning shot at the NBA finals.

“You see that?” he taunted. “I’m unstoppable.” “You’re insufferable,” you shot back, scowling as he scored another goal. 

But the final straw was when he stood behind you at the basketball game, his arms caging yours, pretending to “help” you shoot. 

“See, you gotta bend your knees a little,” he said, his chest pressed against your back, his voice a low purr in your ear. 

You swallowed hard, trying, and failing, to ignore the way his hands ghosted over your waist. “Thanos–” “Shh, I’m coaching.” “You’re distracting me.” “Am I?” his smirk was pure sin.

You elbowed him in the stomach, and he let out a dramatic groan, stumbling back. “Damn, babe, you trying to kill me?” “You’ll like,” you muttered, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

After an hour of arcade games, where he absolutely did not let you win, Thanos finally led you outside, the cool air wrapping around you. 

“Arlight,” he said, stretching. “Next stop.” You shot him a skeptical look. “Another surprise?” He just winked. “You’ll like this one.”

A short drive later, you realized exactly where he was taking you. The spot. It was nothing fancy–just a quiet overlook on the edge of town, tucked away where no one ever really went. It had a perfect view of the city lights in the distance, the skyline stretching wide and endless. 

This was your place. Where you’d gone to clear your heads, to escape, to talk for hours about nothing and everything. Some nights, you’d just sit in silence, sharing a cigarette or a blunt, watching the world move with you. It was a place that belonged to just the two of you. 

The day had been so much fun you forgot you were even upset. Until now, in this peaceful, quiet spot that had so many memories. It made you feel bad for putting Thanos through everything last night. 

Thanos parked, cutting the engine. The silence settled easily between you two. You both got out, climbing onto the hood of his car like you had a hundred times before. He pulled a joint from his jacket pocket, lighting it with practiced ease, taking a slow drag before offering it to you.

You hesitated before taking it, inhaling deep, letting the warmth settle in your chest. For a long moment, neither of you spoke 

“Feeling better?” You glanced over at him, the city lights reflecting in his eyes. Yeah. You were. Instead of answering, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. It was slow, lingering, a silent thank you. 

When you pulled away, he arched his brow. “What was that for?” You smirked, shrugging. “A thank you.” He squinted his eyes as if he was waiting for more of an explanation. But he didn’t say anything cocky as he took another hit, offered it to you, then leaned back against the windshield. For once he was the one speechless. 

The night grew colder and harsh against your skin. Now you both sat in the backseat of his car, heater blasting. You sat curled up in Thanos’ lap, your head resting against his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around you. He had taken off his jacket to drape it over your frame. For a long while, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, you murmured, “I’m sorry.” Thanos’ hand, which had been tracing lazy circles against your thigh, stilled. “For what?”

It took you a second to answer him, not trusting yourself to not cry. “For pushing you away. For acting like I didn’t need you when–” your voice cracked, and you shut your eyes. “When I did.”

Thanos exhaled, pressing his lips to your temple. Your name fell from his lips, a word he rarely said since he always opted to call you babe. “I knew what you were doing. I just wasn’t going to let you.”

A shaky breath left you, half a laugh, half a sob. “You’re annoying like that.” “Damn right,” he said, his arms tightening around you.

Silence settled again, the weight of unspoken things lingering in the space between heartbeats. Finally you whispered, “I never told you what exactly happened.” 

Thanos’ fingers curled slightly against your waist, but he didn’t push. “You don’t have to.” You shook your head. “I want to.” So you told him. Not every detail. Not every ugly piece. How you met the man.

It was just enough for him to understand why you hadn’t been yourself. Why you’d been spiraling. Why even the warmth of his hands on your skin had made you flinch at times. He listened. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t demand more. 

And when you finally fell silent, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “You know what the worst part was?” you whispered. “I thought…for a second, I thought I deserved it. Like maybe I brought it on myself.”

Thanos stiffened beneath you. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. “Don’t say that.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I know it’s not true. But I felt it. And I hated myself for it.”

Thanos cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Look at me.” You did. His expression was sad, but his eyes–god his eyes–were burning. “You are not to blame for what happened to you. Not in any way. Not for one damn second. You hear me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded. He exhaled, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “You saved me, babe. You know that?” Your brows furrowed. “What?” 

“When I was at my worst,” he whispered. “When I was using, when I was pushing people away,” he shook his head. “You were still there. Always.” Your throat tightened. “Thanos…” “You never let me give up on myself. Even when I wanted to.” his lips pressed against your forehead. “I’ve been clean from hard shit for almost a year because of you.”

A shard breath left you, your hands fisted his shirt. You knew he drank and smoked a lot, but you never realized he was using other substances. Let alone that he had been clean for so long. “I didn’t know.” He chuckled lightly. “Never told you. Didn’t want you getting all proud and annoying about it.” You laughed, an actual, real laugh. Thanos smiled, his arms pulling you even closer.

Stepping into your studio apartment, Thanos barely took two steps before pausing, his gaze sweeping over the palace. Clothes scattered on the floor, takeout containers on the coffee table, an empty wine bottle tipped over on the counter.

You saw it too, the mess, the disarray. And the embarrassment hit fast. “I–” you moved quickly, grabbing the nearest pile of clothes and shoving them into a laundry basket. “It’s usually not this bad, I just–” “Babe.” You froze, gripping a pair of sweatpants in your hands. 

Thanos was watching you, arms crossed, leaning against the kitchen counter. His expression wasn’t judgemental, just knowing. Your fingers curled tighter around the fabric. “I didn't mean to let it get this bad.” Thanos exhaled, stepping forward. “You been taking care of yourself at all?” You forced a smile. “I’m fine.” He didn’t look convinced. 

Still, he didn’t push. Just reached out, brushing a hand along your waist as he passed. “C’mon,” he said. “Shower, get comfortable. I’ll wait.” Your stomach twisted. The thought of being alone–even for just a few minutes–made your chest feel tight.

“Come with me?” you asked, avoiding his gaze. Thanos didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, babe. Of course.”

So, while you showered, he sat on the closed toilet lit, scrolling through his phone like it was just any other night. He cracked a few jokes, made fun of the random soap brands in your shower, anything to make you feel normal. And strangely, it worked. 

By the time you stepped out, fresh-faced and wrapped in a towel, some of the tension in your chest had eased. Thanos had left to grab your pajamas and returned with a cute matching set for you. You slipped them on, and brushed your hair before following him back to the couch. 

He sprawled out, one arm draped over the back as you climbed onto his lap, legs straddling his thighs. His hands instinctively found your hips, fingers pressing into them slightly. 

“Baby,” he murmured, sighing quietly. That was a new one. He never called you anything other than babe, and it sent shivers down your spine.

You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Let me take care of you.” Thanos went still. You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing down his neck then his chest. His grip on you tightened slightly. “You sure?” he asked, voice low. There was no cockiness to his tone. In response you only smiled, saying “Positive.”

Thanos took a deep breath, fingers flexing on your hips. “Baby,” there was hesitation in his voice now, like he was at war with himself. You leaned in, lips grazing the corner of his mouth. “What?”

He tilted his head back against the couch, eyes scanning your face. “I don’t know if this is a good time.” Your hands traced up his chest, nails lightly scratching over the fabric of his shirt. “I do.” His jaw clenched. “You’ve been through a lot.” You nodded. “I know.” 

Thanos let out a long breath through his nose, his grip tightening as if trying to keep himself from pulling you closer. Again he whispered, “Baby…”

You kissed him before he could say anything else. A slow, lingering press of your lips against his. He barely hesitated before melting into it, groaning softly as he kissed you back, his hands sliding up your thighs, pressing you more firmly against him. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was just deep. Like you were breathing life into each other.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead resting against his, his breathing was heavier. His fingers dug into your plush skin, like you were his anchor. “You have no idea how hard it’s been,” he muttered, voice rough.

“What?” you blinked up at him with wide eyes. His fingers traced your bare thighs, tough featherlight. “Resisting you. Not pulling you into my lap every damn time you looked at me like that.” His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Watching you with other guys was the worst.”

“You think I didn’t notice?” He huffed a dry laugh. “You’d flirt with someone right in front of me, and I’d have to act like it didn’t make me want to knock their teeth in.” Your heart pounded. “Thanos–” he cut you off. “You drive me insane, baby.” he sounded desperate. “And if any part of you doesn’t want this, you better say it now. Because the second I let go, I’m not stopping.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips as you slid off his lap, dropping gracefully to your knees between his legs. “I told you,” you murmured, hands trailing up his thighs. “I’m positive.” 

Thanos’ eyes widened at your movements, not expecting to see you looking up at him with such a desperate look on your face. When your fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans, he shot up from the couch and was quick to tug them down. He messily kicked them off, plopping back down on the couch as he tugged his boxers down his thighs. 

You giggled, the sight of him acting so quickly drove you wild. The thought of knowing that he was excited for this made your thighs clench. Your small hand reached out, gently grasping his length. You pumped it a few times, eyes glued to Thanos who was a mess beneath your touch. His head hung back and his eyes were screwed shut. His lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. 

There were maybe one or two times before that you had seen Thanos naked. Once at a party where he insisted on skinny dipping with all his friends, and another when you found him passed out in his bed with no clothes on. You never looked, never starred because the two of you were friends and it felt wrong. But this? This felt so right.

The moment you wrapped your lips around him he fell apart. He became a stuttering mess. Your name falling off his lips along with random swear words. It made you feel good knowing you were making him feel so good. 

Your movements were slow at first as you tried to get used to the size of him in your mouth. Out of instinct Thanos snapped his hips up, his cock tickling the back of your throat which elicited a gag out of you. “Fuck,” he groaned, eyes opening to look down at you. “Sorry–f-fuck, sorry.” 

You used one hand to pat his thigh as if signaling it was okay. Thanos kept his eyes glued to your. The way your eyes were so wide and tears brimmed at them, the way drool and precum trickled down your chin. It was pornographic, and an image he would never forget.

His hand tangled firmly in your hair, not pushing your head but as if he needed something to grasp onto. It made a moan slip from past your lips, sending vibrations through him. That drove him wild. 

Faster now, you moved your head. With your hands sprawled against his tattooed thighs you let the fist in your hair be your guide. Thanos pushed your head all the way down, that familiar gagging sensation hinted in you but you held it back. Your nose rested against his stomach, and as you swallowed around him that’s all it took. Thanos was groaning, practically screaming, your name as he came in your mouth. Most of it went straight down your throat but as he let up his grip on you, you made sure to swallow every last bit before pulling away.

Thanos rested back against the couch, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His fingers dragged through his hair as he exhaled, a deep, satisfied sound rumbling from his throat. Then, before you could even think to move, you heard the soft click of his phone camera. Your head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Thanos.” He grinned down at you, tapping his screen before angling the phone toward you. “Nah, you gotta see this, babe.” You hesitated before glancing at the screen. Oh. Your face was flushed, lips swollen, eyes glassy. A thin strand of drool clung to your chin, your hands still resting on his thighs. You looked utterly wrecked. 

You smacked his knee. “Delete that!” He just chuckled, tossing his phone onto the couch before pulling up his boxers, then gripping your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb swiped at the corner of your lips, gathering the mess before bringing it to his own mouth, licking it off with a satisfied hum.

“Can’t believe you’re so good at that,” he murmured, eyes dark. “You suck cock that well for other guys?” Your stomach flipped. His grin widened. “Nah, actually…I can believe it. Perfect little mouth, always running–figures it’d be good for something.”

Your cheeks burned, and he laughed, hauling you up into his lap, arms wrapping securely around your waist. “C’mere, baby. Let me hold you for a second.” And just like that, the teasing melted into warmth. Into comfort. His fingers traced up and down your spine, his lips pressing lazy kisses against your temple.

“Did so good,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “Knew you would.” You buried your face in his neck, letting yourself melt into him, letting the afterglow and his warmth settle deep into your bones. Yeah. You were exactly where you needed to be.

The night before had been good. Too good. You fell asleep in Thanos’ arms, wrapped up in warmth and a feeling so foreign it almost scared you–something safe, something steady. But by morning, the weight of it all pressed down on your chest like an anchor.

You woke up feeling…wrong. Like you’d taken one step too far into something you couldn’t undo. Like on matter how much Thanos tried, how much wanted to fix you, you’d always end up right back where you started.

He was still asleep beside you, his face slack, mouth parted slightly. One arm was draped over his stomach, the other curled loosely around you, his fingers brushing your hip through the fabric of your shorts. You stared at him, at the way his brows twitched slightly, like even in his sleep he was thinking too much. He’d done so much for you. And you? You were still ruining yourself, just in different ways. You swallowed hard and slipped out of bed, moving quietly into the bathroom before he could stir.

Thanos noticed. Of course he noticed. You were quiet all morning, responding to his teasing with soft smiles instead of the usual bite. You moved through your apartment like you were lost, like you weren’t really there. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched, his eyes following you like he was waiting for the moment you finally cracked.

Then, after a while, he exhaled through his nose and muttered, “C’mon, babe. Get dressed.” You blinked. “What?” He stretched, rolling his shoulders. “I wanna go somewhere. You need to get out of this place for a bit.”

You hesitated, but the way he looked at you, the quiet determination in his face, made it clear this wasn’t up for debate. And you didn’t have the energy to argue.

The drive was peaceful. Thanos had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console between you. His playlist hummed through the speakers, low enough that the rumble of the car nearly drowned it out. 

The road stretched ahead, empty except for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. It almost felt normal. Almost. 

You sighed, shifting in your seat. Your phone buzzed in your lap, lighting up with a name you didn’t want him to see. You hesitated. You shouldn’t answer. You really shouldn’t. But your fingers twitched anyway, hovering over the screen. Before you could react, Thanos reached over, plucking your phone from your hands.

“Hey–!” He barely glanced at you, his eyes locked on the screen. His jaw ticked. Then he scoffed, shaking his head as he tossed the phone onto the dashboard. 

“Seriously?” You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how tense the care felt. “It’s not–” “Is that him? You’re still talking to him?” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “It’s not like that.” 

Thanos let out a humorless laugh, running a hand over his face. “Not like that?” He shot you a look, something between disbelief and frustration. “Babe, c’mon. What the hell are you doing?” 

Your stomach twisted with guilt. “I don’t know.” You stretched in your seat, reaching for your phone and once you had it you tucked it securely in your lap.

Thanos pressed his lips into a thin line, fingers flexing on the wheel. He wasn’t jealous, he wasn’t. But it pissed him off in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Because after everything–after the  way he held you, the way he tried to pull you out of this–you were still keeping one foot in the door of something that was dragging you down. And he didn’t get it. He didn’t get why. 

Thanos sighed, shaking his head. “You really gonna sit there and tell me it’s nothing?” Your throat felt tight. You didn’t have an answer for him. And the worst part? He knew that.

You remained silent after that, yet the silence felt suffocating. You stared out the window, watching the blur of passing streetlights, the dark silhouettes of trees lining the road. 

Thanos didn’t say anything else for awhile. He just kept driving, his grip on the wheel tight, his jaw locked. He wasn’t mad at you, but it felt like he was. It was so unlike him. No teasing remark, no smartass comment to cut through the tension. Just silence. It made you feel worse than if he had just yelled at you.

Finally, you swallowed the lump in your throat and whispered, “I don’t know why I’m still talking to him.” 

Thanos sighed, resting his elbow against the door, fingers tapping against his temple. His body seemed tense, uncomfortable. “Yeah, babe. I got that part.” His voice wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t soft either. It was tired. Like he was trying to understand something he really didn’t want to understand. 

You fiddled with the edge of his hoodie he let you wear, pulling at loose thread. “It’s just…I don’t know. Maybe I like pretending nothing happened. That I can just go back to normal.” Thanos made a sharp sound in the back of his throat. “And talking to him helps with that?”

“No,” you groaned. “I don’t know! Maybe it makes me feel like I still have control over something. Like I get to decide how it ends.” Thanos was quiet for a beat. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he muttered, “That’s not how it works, babe.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring down at your now shaky hands. “I just…I hate feeling like this.” His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, an anxious tic he used to calm himself. “Like what?” he asked.

“Like I’m broken,” you admitted. Thanos’ jaw clenched. His knuckles whitened on the wheel. Then, suddenly, he swerved to the side of the road and slammed the car into park. You jolted forward slightly, eyes wide. “Thanos, what the hell–” 

“Get in the back.” “What?” Thanos unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face you, eyes dark, voice low and sharp. “Not arguing, babe. Get in the back.”

Thanos could be scary when he wanted to. He could be demanding and strong headed, you knew this about him. His deep voice and tall, muscular frame turned to you and you knew then it wasn’t a choice. He wasn’t challenging you. He was telling you, and you obeyed.

You slipped out of your seat and into the back, settling in just as Thanos followed. He slammed the door shut which made you flinch ever so slightly.

The air was thick, charged, as he sat next to you, stretching out his legs and crossing his arms across his chest. Then, without a word, he reached over and snatched your phone from your lap. Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Thanos, don’t–” “Unlock your phone,” he demanded. Slowly, you shook your head no. Thanos clenched his jaw. “I’m not asking, I’m telling you. Unlock the damn phone.” And you did. You reached over and typed in your passcode which earned a hum from him.

He ignored your protests, thumb swiping across the screen. You tried to grab it back when he opened your messages, but he easily dodged you. “Damn, babe. You weren’t kidding. You really are still talking to this piece of shit.” Your stomach twisted as he scrolled through the messages.

wyd tonight? lets meet up

idk. maybe.

u look good in that dress

thanks 

u miss me or nah?

u were so into me that night, dont act different now

stop 

damn u actin like a whole new bitch. u know i could pull up rn

just drop it

Thanos’ breathing was ragged as he read them. “Maybe?” he read aloud, shaking his head. “Babe, really?” You look away, ashamed. “It’s not–” But before you could finish, he scrolled. You tried to snatch your phone again, but he grabbed your arm holding it down.

And there they were. Pictures. Some from him. A shirtless mirror selfie, a couple of low lit bedroom shots. Nothing outright explicit, but the intent was there. Then he saw your pictures you had sent to this guy. A mirror selfie in a fitted dress. A close up of your lips. And then his whole body stiffened. Because the picture that was staring back at the two of you was something he wasn’t expecting to see. A picture of you. Taken by you. Wearing Thanos’ hoodie. Sitting on your bed, the hem barely covering your thighs, biting your lip at the camera. Your stomach dropped.

Thanos scoffed, his grip so tight on the phone you feared he’d snap it. “You really sent this to him? In my hoodie?” he let out a sharp laugh, but it wasn’t amused. “Fuck, babe.” Your face burned. “It wasn’t–”

But then he scrolled further. And that’s when everything changed. Because there were more pictures. But these weren't yours. They were taken by that guy. Pictures of you. Your blood ran cold. You knew he’d sent them to you, but you didn’t remember him ever taking them.

Your body, sprawled out on the bed. Your face flushed, half turned away. The strap of your dress slipping down your shoulder. The bottom hem pushed up just enough to reveal your lacey underwear. Another one of you naked, your breasts covered just by the man’s hands. Another one with his fist in your hair, makeup smudge across your face as you looked straight into the camera. Eyes hazy from your drunken state. And the worst part? The messages that followed.

dont act like u didnt want it

u looked so good like that

we both kno u liked it

u better stop ignoring me

u know i could ruin u, right?

Of course he had planned to use them as blackmail. That was when you had stopped responding to him, in hopes he’d leave you alone. That’s when you really started to spiral. Your hands had started to shake, and you dared to sneak a peek at Thanos. He hadn’t said a single word, and his silence was lethal. His jaw clenched so tightly you thought he might crack a tooth.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his own pocket and pulled out his own phone. You watched in confusion, still frozen, as he tapped his screen a few times, then turned to you.

Your heart stopped. Because there on his phone were so many pictures of you. Some candid, some not so candid. Some from nights when you’d crashed at this place, tangled in his sheets, makeup smudged. Some from parties where you’d clung to his arm, leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Some of the two of you together. His arm slung around your waist. His fingers curled around your throat. His lips at your ear, mouth curved into something between a smirk and a promise. And the picture from last night. You with swollen lips, bloodshot eyes, and a mixture of drool and his cum dripping down your chin.

Your breath hitched. “Thanos…” He turned to look at you, grinning. “You forgot who you belong to, baby.” He’d always been possessive over you, but never like this. He leaned in, voice dropping lower. “Maybe I should send one of these to your little friend. Let him know who the fuck he’s messing with.”

Your lips parted, shock flashing through you. “Thanos, no–” but then, your phone buzzed. Your breath caught. A call. From him. Thanos stared at the screen for half a second before answering.

“Hello?” Your whole body went rigid. There was a pause, then a low, irritated voice. “Uh…who the hell is this?” Thanos smirked, staring straight into your eyes. “Her boyfriend.” Your mouth fell open.

“What?” the guy scoffed. “Dude, put her on the phone.” “Nah, I don’t think I will.” Thanos leaned back, completely unbothered. “Matter of fact, I think you should delete all those pictures and lose this number.” The guy scoffed again. “Man, she was just texting me–” “Yeah, well she won’t be anymore.”

You sat there frozen, heart hammering against your ribs. You should’ve stopped him. But you didn’t. You prayed this would end all of the harassment you’d been through. You watched as Thanos brought the phone back to his ear and, in a tone dripping with amusement, said, “Lose this number, or I’ll make you lose it.” Then he hung up. 

 The silence afterward was deafening. Thanos tossed your phone back into your lap, his expression still flat, unreadable. But then in a tone that was soft, but no less firm, he murmured, “C’mere, baby.” you didn’t move at first. You just sat there, phone in your lap, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Thanos’ voice was softer this time. “Babe.” The second you were within reach, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his lap, into the solid warmth of his body. His grip was firm but not crushing, a quiet promise of protection.

“I–” “Shh,” he murmured, one hand slipping to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. “I got you.” You let yourself sink into him, let your face press against his neck, his hoodie soft against your cheek. His scent wrapped around you–clean, familiar, safe.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You weren’t sure how much time passed before Thanos finally said, “How long has he been pulling this shit?” You hesitated. Too long. “...A while.”

His jaw twitched beneath your head. “And you didn’t tell me?” You pulled back slightly, looking at him. “I–” you shook your head. “I just wanted to forget about it.”

“You really think I wouldn’t notice?” You blinked up at him. “You think I don’t know you?” His fingers tightened in your hair, just a little. Your throat burned. You hated this. Hated feeling seen. Hated how easily he could read you. 

Thaons let out a slow breath, dropping his forehead to yours. His voice was quiet, but steady. “Babe, you don’t have to do this alone.” Tears began to burn behind your eyes, thick and hot, threatening to spill over. “Is there more? Because if there’s more to this I need to know so I can end it all.”

You shook your head, a few stray tears slipping down your cheeks. He pulled you in tighter, and this time you didn’t fit any of it. His grasp, the tears, your feelings. You allowed yourself to cry into his chest, body racking with sobs. Thaons held you, never letting his grip falter. 

After you collected yourself and Thanos made sure you were okay, the two of you continued your drive. “Where are we even going?” you asked, turning toward him. Thanos smirked, eyes still on the road. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You narrowed your eyes. “I would like to know. That’s why I asked.” He reached over, resting his large hand on your knee. “Relax, babe. You’ll like it.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t press further. 

Eventually the roads narrowed, leading to a secluded stretch of land. The house came into view first–tucked away from the main road, sitting against a backdrop of trees and open sky. Your brows lifted. “You rented this?”

Thanos cut the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Just for the weekend.” he shot you a wink, “Figured you deserved a little getaway.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest. You bit your lip to keep from smiling. He noticed, of course he did.

“Come on,” he said, opening his door. You followed him inside, taking in the open floor plan and floor to ceiling windows. Everything smelled faintly like cedarwood, the air crisp from the countryside.

You plopped onto the couch with a sigh, stretching out. “This is kinda nice.” Thanos dropped beside you, picking up your legs and resting them on his lap when he sat down. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. It felt…normal. There was a few minutes of comfortable silence before Thanos spoke up.

“Give me your phone.” You blinked. “Huh?” Thanos held out his hand, expectantly. “I’m deleting those pictures.” you didn’t speak, frozen. “You don’t need that shit sitting on your phone.”

Slowly, you placed it in his palm. Thanos scrolled through the messages, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t say anything. He just started deleting. One by one, he deleted anything and everything that was attached to that guy.

You exhaled, a strange mix of relief and unease washing over you. Once he was done, Thanos smirked. “Y’know, we should replace ‘em.” You frowned. “What?” He held up your phone. “Take new ones. Good ones. Of us.” Your cheeks warmed. “You’re ridiculous.” He shrugged. “I’m right.”

Before you could argue, he pulled you to his side, angling the camera. “Smile, baby.” You couldn’t help it–you laughed as he snapped the photo. Then another. And another. Before long, you were both tangled together, making stupid faces, teasing, playing.

The playful pictures quickly turned into something else. Thanos, always one to push boundaries, tugged you closer, tilting his head as he snapped another picture. This time, his lips were right at your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

“Gotta get some better ones than those shitty ones he took, right?” he murmured. You felt your heart picking up speed. “T-thanos–” He flipped the camera, his grip steady on your phone, his free hand finding your jaw as he turned your face toward his. “Look at me.” You did.

The click of the camera felt deafening. Another picture. Then another. His fingers brushed your thigh, pushing your legs apart just enough to make your breath hitch.

He smirked. “You nervous, baby?” You huffed, trying to make your reaction. “Shut up.” He chuckled, tapping through the photos. “Damn. These are real nice.” You reached for your phone, but he held it away, laughing. “Uh-uh. I think we need a few more.” 

Before you could protest, he shifted, pulling you fully into his lap. His hand found your waist, gripping firmly as he leaned in, pressing his lips just below your ear. Click. You shivered. Click. His fingers trailed lower. Click. 

The playful photo session took a more daring turn as Thanos pulled you up from the couch, his hands skimming over your sides. “Let’s get some real shots, babe,” he said with a glint in his eye, his voice low and teasing.

You looked at him, biting your lip, but a challenge gleamed in your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He grinned, pulling you toward the bedroom, then towards the floor length mirror in the corner. He snapped a picture of the two of you, your bodies close but not touching. His gaze flicked between the phone screen and your reflection. 

“You look stunning,” he murmured, his breath tickling your neck as he adjusted you. “Let’s make it a little more…fun.” 

You raised a brow but didn't pull away when he guided your hands up to tug your shirt over your head. The fabric slid off, he snapped a quick picture, the camera capturing your bare shoulders and his hand resting lightly on your waist. He was quick to peel his own shirt off. 

The heat between you two was undeniable as his other hand found its way down to your butt, fingers lightly squeezing. The picture came out blurry at first–too much movement– but when he steadied his grip on you, the next shot was perfect.

It was only a minute before Thanos had you both out of your pants. You left in your bra and underwear, him in his boxers. His chest was pressed against your back as he took a few more pictures, his free hand placed in suggestive places on your body. Around your neck, groping one of your breasts, fisting the side of your underwear.

“You know,” Thanos whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. “If you weren’t so damn irresistible, I might actually be able to stop myself.” You fought the heat rising in your cheeks.

The next shot was from the bed, the two of you lying side by side, bodies tangled together. The camera caught your smiles, your hands tracing his tattoos, as you shifted, getting more comfortable. You couldn’t deny the electric tension between you–playful, teasing, and full of unspoken promise. Thanos snapped one picture of you on your knees on the floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. That was his favorite one. The last picture was of you two sharing a kiss. He looked at it with a satisfied smirk, leaning back on the pillows.

“I think we’ve got some damn good memories to replace the others,” he said. Then tension in the room wasn’t heavy, but it was hot. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you found yourself squeezing your thighs together trying to relieve some tension you felt.

A mischievous grin curled his lips as he looked over at you. “You know,” he began, “I should probably have these pictures saved for myself–you never know when a little reminder of this will come in handy.” 

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny the heat flushing your skin and the tingles you felt throughout your body. “Oh, please. You really gonna hold them over my head?”  “Not like that,” he said, shrugging. “Just think I might need some personal motivation later on.”

You shot him a teasing look. “You want them for when you’re lonely, huh?” He laughed, his cocky grin widening. “If I’m ever feeling bored, sure. But I think it’d be hard to get bored with these.” He sent himself the pictures from your phone before handing it back to you.

The playful tension in the air felt thick, the heat between you two palpable, and Thanos let out a low sigh, stretching his arms above his head. “Anyway,” he said, suddenly standing up from the bed. “I’m gonna grab a shower–feel like I need to cool down for a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow, watching his move across the room, his movements slow but purposeful. “Yeah? You sure you’re not running from me?” He looked over his shoulder, smirking as he entered the bathroom. “Nah, just trying to be respectful of your boundaries, baby.”

You were left in the dim room, the air still heavy with the scent of him and the lingering heat of the photos you’d taken. You sat there, your thoughts racing. It was clear he was affected–hell, so were you–but the playful tension shifted, leaving something more raw, more intense in its wake. After a moment of hesitation, you stood up, almost without thinking. You couldn’t just let him get away with that teasing, could you?

The bathroom door was cracked open, and you caught a glimpse of him, standing under the spray of the shower, steam curling up from the floor. You saw his hand fisting his cock, and heard the quiet panting sounds he made. You knew exactly what you were doing as you stepped inside without knocking.

Thanos froze when he saw you. His trailing up and down your now naked frame. His hand stopped its movements, and he leaned back against the shower wall. “Babe, what are you doing?” he asked, though his voice was laced with something else.

You stepped closer, eyes never leaving his. “I think you’re the one who started this.” You reached out, brushing your fingers against his chest, the warm water cascading over him. 

He didn’t respond at first, just watching you with a heavy gaze, as if considering whether or not to step back–or to pull you closer. 

But he didn’t move away. He let you inch closer until your lips were inches from his. “You really wanna test me right now?”

“Maybe,” you whispered, hand resting on top of his. “Maybe I just like to see if you can resist me.”

He grinned then. “I can, baby,’ he said quietly, but it didn’t sound very convincing. “But you’re about to make me break that.” That’s when a sense of urgency took over your body. Your lips crashed to his and you removed his hand from his cock to take it in your own.

Neither of your movements were slow or cautious. As you pumped his cock in your fist, his fingers snuck between your legs. They worked quickly against your clit before he pushed two inside you. You let out a breathy gasp at the feeling.

It didn’t take very long for you two to become whiny messes under each other's touches. Each other's names falling from the others lips like a prayer. Whines and moans vibrated off the shower walls. Before you knew it your head was spinning. The two of you came at the same time, and something about that made the whole thing seem even more intimate. 

The rest of the weekend was spent teasing, joking, and laughing. Thanos made sure you didn’t think about anything except the two of you. That you were enjoying yourself fully, and hopefully healing. He blocked the guy’s number from your phone and you thanked him for it, not sure if you would’ve been able to do it yourself. Before you knew it the two of you were driving back into the city. You weren’t saddened because you felt the shift of the air between the two of you. Things would be different from now on.

The music thumped through the walls of Nam Gyu’s place, a stark contrast to the quieter, more intimate atmosphere you and Thanos had shared just hours before. You could still feel the heat of your bodies together on your skin.

Thanos had insisted on coming to the party. “You need to loosen up a little, babe,” he;d said, pulling you out of the car and toward the front door. “We’re all done moping around. We’re having fun, okay?”

Against your better judgment, you’d agreed, but you weren’t really sure if you were ready for the noise, the chaos, the crowds of people who had no idea what was going on behind your walls. Yet, as soon as you stepped inside Nam Gyu’s apartment, you felt like you were stepping into a different world.

Nam Gyu was in the middle of a conversation with a couple of his friends when he spotted you and Thanos. He smirked and immediately made his way over to you, clapping Thanos on the back as he winked at you. 

“Damn, Thanos,” Nam Gyu said, his tone light but teasing. “You look like you’re about to eat her alive.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck, but it was hard when Thanos didn’t exactly make it easy. His arm was draped around your waist, a possessive but gentle hold that made everyone around you notice.

“She’s been a handful lately,” he said teasingly. “But I’m making sure she’s having fun.” Thanos licked his lips, staring at you and you felt your body burn under his gaze.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol you had begun sipping on or the way Thanos’ words made your heart flutter,mm but you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Nam Gyu raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “I’m not one to judge, but…damn, you two are practically joined at the hip tonight. You’re looking like more than just friends now.”

You froze at his words, a small pang of uncertainty tightening in your chest. Was that how it looked? You couldn’t even really think about it because everything still felt so complicated, but there was something undeniable between you and Thanos. Something unspoken. 

Thanos noticed your discomfort, his fingers gently grazing your back, soothing you. “Shut up, Nam Gyum” he said, his voice lighter but still protective. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have anyone who looks at you the way she looks at me.”

The comment made you smile, the small flirtation doing exactly what it was meant to do–ease the tension you hadn’t even realized had built up.

Nam Gyu held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you two have your moment. But if you get too cozy, I’ll have to kick you out.”

You laughed, the sound feeling good, almost reigned to you after everything. Thanos leaned down, kissing your forehead softly. “You okay, babe?” You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest you hadn’t felt in a long while. You were okay. Maybe not perfect, but you were here, and that meant something.

The night went on, and you allowed yourself to get caught up in the energy around you. You danced. You laughed. You allowed yourself a little escape from the weight that had been on your shoulders. And Thanos never let you go too far, always keeping you close, watching over you like a silent guardian.

As the night went on and the party started to wind down with people slowly trickling out, you found yourself standing by the door with Thanos, his hand still on your back, guiding you. “You sure you’re ready to go?” he asked, his voice soft yet serious. You looked up at him. “Yeah. I think I’m ready.”

He smiled and led out the door, but before you left, he turned to you. “Just so you know, no matter what happens, I’ve got you babe. Always.”

You swallowed, emotions swirling in your chest. This was more than you’d ever expected from anyone, and you weren’t sure how you got so lucky, but for the first time in a long time, you felt a little lighter.

The rest of the night was quiet. You two drove back to his apartment, the weight of everything that had happened slowly lifting as you realized how much you meant to each other. In that moment, it didn’t matter if it was complicated. It didn’t matter if you didn’t have all the answers. You had each other. And that was enough.

[seokjinsonlyone]

Sunflower Vol. 4

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: 'You didn’t know why you thought coming would be a good idea anyway. That’s what happens when you follow your heart.'

rating: pg

warnings: none :)

wc: 2.1k

a/n: shout out to hobi for bringing me out of my unintentional hiatus. updated after almost 4 years less goooooo

vol. 1 | vol. 2 | vol. 3 | vol. 4

“What’s your problem?” Tae asked after you evaded his touch for the third time after leaving the cafe.

And just like that, your anger sparked back up again. “What’s my problem? No, what’s your problem?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you tell him you’re my boyfriend?”

“Um, maybe because he was flirting with you right in front of my face?”

“He was not,” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “He has a girlfriend.”

He laughed dryly. “Like that means anything.”

“Maybe not to you,” you shot back, all the red flags you pegged him with racing to the forefront of your mind. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It means I’m not dumb. I told you before I ain't like the other little girls that be following you around.”

“Okay and?”

“And don’t be telling people you’re my boyfriend when I’m sure you got other girls lined up.” You didn’t want him claiming you were his girlfriend while he was creeping around. He could sleep with whoever he wanted, but you wanted to be left out of it. The last thing you wanted was to look stupid, to be humiliated. The only thing worse than being cheated on was being cheated on with an audience. Can’t cheat if you’re not together.

He had the nerve to look offended. “Hey, I haven’t talked to anyone else since I started talking to you.”

“So a week,” you deadpanned.

“Listen, I'm all about you now.” 

“Yeah, okay.” You rolled your eyes and started walking again. You wanted to go home. You didn’t want to be here in the first place and now he had you worked up.

He grabbed your wrist before you could get too far bringing your attention back to him. “Why are we fighting over some guy in the first place?”

“He's not just some guy,” you defended. It was taking everything in you to not truly pop off. You don't know why you were shooting so hard for Hoseok when he didn’t even want you, but you really didn’t want his name in Tae’s mouth. “he’s my friend,” which might’ve been a stretch seeing as you hadn’t quite transcended the employee-customer boundaries, but you were friendly and for the sake of this argument that was enough “and, it’s not about him. It’s the fact that you lied. I don't like liars.” 

“Look, I'm sorry. Now, can we just forget about it? We’re on a date. I wanna have a good time. I want you to have a good time,” he pleaded, grabbing your other wrist and pulling you closer to him.

You weren’t having it. “One, I don’t believe your apology. Two, to be honest I didn’t even wanna come today and now I’m irritated, so I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

He poked his lip out at your admission. “Why didn’t you want to come?”

“Because I’m tired, Taehyung. I been talking to you all week, we hung out yesterday, I met up with other people during the week, and now I’m out again. That’s a lot. I’m tired.”

He stayed silent, looking you over for a few moments before speaking up. “You introverted?” You nodded. “Then why’d you come?”

“Because you’re cute and you asked. Cute guys don’t ask me out often.” His face softened to which you immediately scrunched up your face, shaking yourself from his grip. “Don’t look at me like that, I'm not insecure,” you were a little, but he ain’t need to know that, “and I don’t need your pity. So, put whatever little tricks you were about to pull out right back in your pocket because they not gon work on me.” 

He breathed out a laugh before turning serious again. “I’m sorry. For real. And, I appreciate you giving me your time. I promise if you stay, I’ll make it worth it.”

You pursed your lips, looking at him and sighed. Being angry took a lot of energy and that was something you had very little of. “Okay,” you agreed, then nodded your head to the side gesturing for him to take the lead.

“May I?”

You glanced over at him to see his arm stretched out, hovering just above your shoulders. “Go ahead.”

He grinned his cute little boxy smile, dropping his arm around you. His touch placated you more than you cared  for. Which was probably why he did it. One of his little tricks. You’d never admit how much it actually did work. “You know,” he spoke up after a couple minutes of walking silently, “you’re pretty chill, but you’re also kind of high maintenance.”

You scoffed. “No, you’re just used to playing games, and I ain’t the one. I’m not the PS5. I’m not the Xbox. I’m not the monopoly.”

“Are you the PC?” he asked cheekily.

“I’m the FU.”

He cackled, throwing his other arm around you, pulling you to a stop until his laughter died down. You couldn’t help the smile that spread onto your face. He was annoying but his energy was kind of contagious. He dropped a kiss on top of your head, then continued walking, still draped around you. “I like you a lot.”

“Mhm.”

You enjoyed your time with Tae. You really did. Even let him kiss you at the door and everything. So you felt kinda bad that instead of relishing in the afterglow of the outing, you found yourself playing back the scene at the cafe. 

What exactly did he see between Hoseok and yourself that caused him to act out? Was he really flirting with you? No. He couldn’t be. He had a girlfriend, or he was at least seeing someone else. He’s not the type to flirt with someone else while he’s in a relationship. He wouldn’t do that. You didn’t have much of a basis for the claim, but you just knew he wouldn’t. The look in his eyes was so warm and his smile was so bright, but the sun shined on everyone so there was no need to even entertain that thought. Taehyung was just being dramatic and possessive.  

Still, you weren't able to get rid of the nagging thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind because what if there was something there? It was obvious that despite his rejection and you constantly discouraging yourself, reminding yourself that he didn’t want you, you still wanted him. Your heart just wasn’t quite ready to let him go. You wanted to see him. Just for a little. Conduct a social experiment to see if what Tae saw was viable. So even though you had no classes and it was way later than you usually went, you made your way back to the cafe. 

Hoseok’s side profile was usually the first thing you spotted from outside the shop, but rounding the corner to the entryway you didn’t see it. You went in anyway. You waited a couple minutes in hopes that he was just in the back doing something or in the restroom, but when an employee who was unfortunately not him popped out, you lost hope. It was a stupid idea. He wasn’t always going to be there just because you wanted him to be. “Can I get you anything?” the person at the counter asked.

“Oh! Uhhh… I-“ you began, but before you could figure out an excuse Hoseok came from the back donning a beanie and a backpack.

He smiled his signature smile when he noticed you. “___? Hey! I was actually on my way out, but I can get you something if you’d like.”

You didn’t actually come for anything other than to see him, so you didn’t think about what you would get or do or say. “Oh, yeah please. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for my favorite.” You melted. “Did you want your usual or can I tempt you with something different?”

“Uhhh… Yeah sure, surprise me.” You shifted from foot to foot awkwardly while he made your drink. You forgot you didn’t know how to flirt. Memories of how awfully your last attempt went began to flood your brain, second hand embarrassment zooming through your bloodstream, causing you to cower silently instead of conducting your little social experiment. You didn’t know why you thought coming would be a good idea anyway. That’s what happens when you follow your heart.

Hoseok spoke up saving you from yourself. “No boyfriend today?”

You choked on the saliva in your mouth. 

He turned around concerned at your loud display. “You good?” 

“Yeah. Sorry. Sorry. But, uhhh, that was not my boyfriend,” you clarified, happy the chance to do so came up sooner rather than later. He looked up at you confused. “I know that’s what he said, but no. I don't know why he said that actually. Yesterday was only our second date.”

“Must be going well if he’s telling people you’re his girlfriend.”

You faked a laugh. You did not want to be talking about Tae. Not when Hoseok was there standing around being everything you ever wanted. “Ummm, it’s going okay, yeah. I think he’s just a little enthusiastic.” You saw an opportunity to strike. “What about you? Is your girlfriend doing okay?”

It was his turn to fake laugh. “No girlfriend for me.”

“Oh. Well what about the person you said you were seeing when I–“ you paused, stopping yourself from directly talking about the incident. It was still traumatizing. “–when I was here a couple weeks ago.”

He shook his head, looking down bashfully. “Yeah… that’s not a thing anymore.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” 

He smiled a little sadly, sliding over the concoction he made for you and leaning against the counter. “It's fine, it wasn't that serious. Besides, it ended not too long after….” 

You nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip from the drink. “It’s really good. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You couldn’t think of anything else to add, so you supposed it was time to leave. But before you could figure out how to not-awkwardly exit the situation, Hoseok spoke up again.

“That day…. you called me sunshine. Why?”

You felt a heat spread through your cheeks. Why would he ask you that? What were you supposed to say? You’d both been dead set on not mentioning it, but now he wanted to know why you called him sunshine? Did he not realize you were basically confessing to him? “Ummm…” you chewed on your bottom lip for a few seconds debating whether to tell him the truth or not. You were at a crossroads in your relationship at this point. You weren’t quite anything so you could be whatever if you played your cards right. What did you really have to lose? “I just think that you have a really bright personality and probably the prettiest smile I've ever seen.”

The smile in question made an appearance at the admission, dulling a little before he began talking again. “And then I went and rained on your parade,” he sighed. “Not so sunshine now, am I?” he mumbled.

You shook your head, negating his thought. “You still shine brighter than anyone I know.”

He regarded you for a moment as he finally stepped out from behind the counter. And it wasn’t as if you’d never seen him outside the the counter but it was always in spurts and at a distance. Quick glances stolen as he cleared tables or refreshed the condiment station. So now factors you’d never even taken into consideration, like how he slightly towered over you and how soft and smooth his golden honey skin looked, had you so dazed that you barely even registered him asking “Do you want to go to a party?”

“Huh?”

“A friend of mine is throwing a party this weekend. Do you want to go?”

You stared up at him dumbly. He wanted to see you outside of the shop?

“You can invite a friend… or your date, if you want. It’s a party so the more the merrier,” he tacked on, ending your delusion. Right. You were kind of, albeit extremely casually, dating someone else, and he was probably just doing his friend a favor by getting bodies to fill the space. No need to take it so personally.

“Sure. Sounds fun,” you replied, smiling tightly, snapping yourself out of the trance he had you in. 

“Let me get your number, so I can send you the details later.” He handed you his phone to enter your information.

Your mind was reeling at how fast things were escalating between the two of you. Not that it was actually anything, but you’d been coming to this coffeehouse since the beginning of fall semester and hadn’t managed more than a small greeting. But in the past month or so since you tried to put the moves on him, things had definitely changed. Maybe Jaein was right, doing things made other things happen. Your phone buzzed and you looked up at Hoseok confused, assuming the message from the unknown number was him. “Hobi?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.”

You bit your lip, attempting to contain your smile as you saved his contact.

Hobi ☀️

[snippybaby]

OK, enough people were interested in the Trent Reznor/Richard Patrick fanfic for me to post it, behold, below the cut.

Content note: explicit sex, hypothetical mention of SA, homophobic slurs

Up Above It / Down In It

“And in all honesty, me and Trent had a sexual tension all the time. He won’t admit it, but we used to make out for fun at clubs and stuff. But it got to the point where we were at the Sharon Tate house, and he was making out with me and I got a boner and he got a boner, and he didn’t know what to do, and he ran away.” – Richard Patrick

It’s one thing when they’re out at a club, and drunk, and showing off. Because that’s all it is, right? Showing off. A way to say fuck you, so what if we are faggots, why do you care? It’s for attention, it’s for shock value. When they’re out. But right now, they’re at the Tate house, the closest thing Trent has to a home, and they’re not drunk – they’ve had a few beers, but they’re not drunk – and no one’s around to see it and be shocked or grossed out or whatever. Someone’s in the studio – Richard isn’t even sure who, some guys Trent met a few days ago who he said could record here, even Trent doesn’t seem certain who they are – but they’re busy. Besides, if anyone else comes in, any of their friends or Trent’s hangers-on who drift in and out of this place, they’re not going to freak out. They’re used to it. They’d probably just roll their eyes. The idea that it’s just a joke, it doesn’t mean anything, is a polite fiction at this point, if anyone ever believed it in the first place. Rich isn’t sure whether he ever believed it himself. He’s not gay. He’s sure of that. The thought of fucking another man, in the abstract, is not appealing to him, and yeah he’s thought about it, who hasn’t? But he’s discovered there’s a difference between the abstract, and the reality of a lean body pressed against his, stubble scraping against his face, a tongue in his mouth. Trent kisses with a lot of tongue. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, not like most of the girls Rich has been with who are more tentative, reserved even when things are getting heavy. There was this one girl who wasn’t like that, she was more aggressive, it was fun, but she turned out to be a dyke. That’s who Trent reminds him of the most, which probably means something that Rich can’t really work out. 

It’s hot. A summer afternoon in LA. Both of them are sweating and never changed out of yesterday’s clothes, and they absolutely stink, but Rich likes it. It’s primal. It bypasses his brain, which is how this happened anyway, he’s not even entirely sure how it happened, one moment they were sitting on the couch, talking about some godawful movie that was on TV last night, then suddenly Trent’s on top of him. That’s always how it seems. That it’s just something that happens, like the weather. No point trying to stop it. Trent is growing his hair out, and it’s long enough to grab now so Rich does that, makes a fist and pulls on it slightly, and Trent seems to like it, he puts his hand underneath Rich’s t-shirt and scratches a little by his spine, which feels real good, and they’re so close it’s no wonder Rich is getting hard, that’s just a natural physical reaction. Then Trent’s getting hard too, their boners are touching, rubbing against each other through shorts and underwear, and it feels weird, kinda funny, really. Not bad. Definitely not bad. But Trent pulls away.

“Sorry, man,” he says, “I’m not – I’m not gay.” His hands are folded in his lap, covering his erection like a schoolboy caught out in class.

“I know,” says Rich, “neither am I.”

“Yeah.” Trent gets up. “I should… I’m gonna…” Gonna go, gonna leave, gonna hide in the bathroom and freak out probably. Rich surprises himself by reaching out and grabbing Trent’s wrist. Because fuck, why does Trent always get to start this and then not follow through? He stands up. He’s taller than Trent, and jerks him closer to make that even more apparent, looking down at him. Trent squirms.

“Let me go.” But he’s not really trying to break free. He could, if he wanted to. Rich tightens his grip.

“You’re such a fucking cocktease. I’m sick of it.” It’s true. It’s probably the first time he’s been honest with himself or anyone else about the situation.

“What are you gonna do?” He spits it out like a challenge, but that bravado, never very convincing, is wavering. Rich doesn’t answer. He doesn’t actually know. But he pulls and pushes Trent, who is still making a show of objecting, if someone came across them it really would look like Rich is about to rape him or something, into one of the bedrooms and shuts the door. He lets him go. Trent doesn’t try to run. So Rich kisses him again, then pushes him onto the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you.” It’s only as he says it that he knows this for certain.

“What if I want to fuck you?”

“I don’t care.”

Trent nods and stretches out with his arms above his head, arching his back like a cat. He’s wearing a baggy tank top and Rich can see his ribs as he flexes.

“There’s condoms…” he gestures towards the bedside table. 

“I know.” Rich unbuttons Trent’s shorts and pulls them down roughly, along with his underwear, throwing them to one side. Trent’s still hard, and Rich puts a hand around his cock, not jerking him off, just feeling the weirdness of having someone else’s dick in his hand, same but different to his own. Trent makes a sound, a kind of stutter. It’s fucking sexy. There’s something so vulnerable about him, there always is, and Rich gets now what’s really going on when Trent is throwing himself around on stage, breaking instruments, telling the crowd to fuck off. He’s daring someone to put him in his place. Rich gets rid of his own shorts and boxers – maybe it’s not gay if neither of them are fully naked – and fumbles around in the drawer for a condom. He tells Trent to turn over as he puts it on, and Trent does so, hugging the pillow and turning his head to one side, eyes closed like he’s waiting for a massage. Rich doesn’t like how passive he’s being all of a sudden. He slaps Trent’s ass hard, and Trent looks over his shoulder.

“Ow,” he hisses, “What was that for?”

“Shut up.” He pulls Trent’s hips back and there he is, Trent Reznor, fast becoming one of the world’s most notorious rock stars, face down, ass up. Rich hesitates. You’re supposed to use lube for anal, he learned that the hard way with a freaky ex-girlfriend, but there isn’t any except what’s on the condom. Without really thinking, he spits on Trent’s asshole. He realises it won’t do much to help, but it’s kind of satisfying in its own way. He decides not to worry about it too much. Trent says stuff all the time implying that he’s into S&M, bragging about it almost, so if it hurts he’s either going to be into it or too proud to let on that he isn’t. Rich enters him then, and Trent groans.

“Fuck.” There’s pain there for sure, he’s tight, but he’s pushing back for more too, and Rich starts to thrust, slowly at first, but it doesn’t take long before they’re both warmed up. It’s not too different to fucking a girl, except he doesn’t feel like he needs to be gentle at all, or nice, and there’s something freeing about that.

“Fucking faggot.” Rich doesn’t know where that came from, he’s ashamed of it as soon as it comes out of his mouth, but it gets a reaction — Trent makes a noise like he’s about to come.

“Say that again.” His voice is muffled by the pillow he’s pressed his face into. Such a cliche, so obvious for someone who prides himself on going against the grain, getting turned on by what the bullies called him in high school. But Rich can’t claim any superiority there, he gets off on the thought, now being proven, that he’s secretly a faggot too.

“Faggot. You like that faggot? You like getting fucked by a real man?” It’s stupid porn talk, and he’s glad Trent is facing away so he can’t see that Rich’s cheeks are bright red, not from the heat, but it’s working.

“Yeah, I like it. Oh God. Fuck.” He starts to move his hand underneath himself to jerk off, but Rich grabs him and pins his arm beside his head again. Trent fights back, more seriously this time. “Fuck you, man, come on.” Rich leans forward and puts his arm across the back of Trent’s neck, putting all his weight into it.

“I’m the one fucking you, so be a good fucking faggot boy and take it.” He’s getting into this now, he could get used to it, it’s fun being an asshole. Trent goes pliant, acquiescing, though he still looks furious, clutching a fistful of the sheets so hard his knuckles are white. Rich starts fucking him again, and he’s close. Instinctively he starts to think about how to calm down and draw this out, but there’s no reason to, so he lets himself go instead, coming hard and then collapsing on top of Trent, trapping him underneath him. He bites Trent’s shoulder and he’s not even sure what he’s doing, but it feels good. He can feel Trent moving his hips, fucking the mattress, and Rich rolls over and pushes him onto his back. He takes Trent’s cock in his hand and jerks him off, staring at the ceiling. It doesn’t take long, Trent moaning and whimpering, sounding totally pathetic, to be honest. There’s come on Rich’s hand and he wants to lick it, but wipes it on the sheet instead. They lie next to each other for a while without speaking, as if it will all only become real if they talk about it.

Trent gets up. He sniffs at the come on his shirt and makes a face.

“That was fun. I enjoyed it. I don’t think it should happen again, though, makes things too complicated.”

Rich props himself up on his elbows. “What if I want it to happen again?”

“I’m telling you it won’t.” He’s cold, now, using the same tone as he does in rehearsals when someone fucks up, fucking up being when they do something that isn’t precisely what he wants. He likes to remind the rest of the band, sometimes, that he is their boss, that they’re not a real band. Nine Inch Nails, after all, is Trent Reznor. Rich and the others are just there to make the live shows more interesting. A jolt of disgust goes through Rich. Self-loathing. He thought he was doing what he wanted, but it was only what Trent wanted all along. Now Trent’s done with it, done with him. Curiosity satisfied. Game over. He should have expected this. Trent writes all the music and the rest of them just play what they’re told to play. Why would this be any different? “I’m going to take a shower.” He pulls his shorts on without underwear. “Can you go check if those guys are done in the studio? I want to get in there later.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

It never happens again and they don’t speak about it. Years later, Trent says in an interview that he’s never gone all the way with a man, even though he used to make out with “the guitarist” in his band, unnamed, and all Rich can think is that he’s glad he got out of the orbit of that huge fucking hypocrite.

[fair-dinkum-mechanic]

Well how do I move on from this

[gloryundimmed]

He was glad Takeshi couldn’t see how he winced as he said he didn’t want to go to the hospital. It was obvious Takeshi was mad. Hurt. Bitter. Kai could understand part of it, but he had warned him. He really had tried to talk him out of giving him a blowjob when his violent tendencies and emotional volatility were at their peak. Why the fuck was he so mad when he did exactly what he said he’d do? There was never any illusion about how this would go down. It would go down at the cost of Takeshi’s health and safety, which was why he had wanted to wait until later, but no. The blond had pushed forward despite his warning, and how he was upset? Fucking hell.

Despite not wanting to, he turned around to look at Takeshi and watched the pitiful display as he tried to stagger around. God. What an idiot. Was this guy for real? There was nothing to gain by not seeking medical attention right now. Nothing. He was just being stubborn for the sake of it, or maybe he didn’t care enough about himself to get help, and that was beyond frustrating. The hitman took a drag of his newly lit cigarette. Did he have to do everything by himself?

“Like hell you’re not. You say you want to suck me off despite my warning of how bad it would be, and now, you’re refusing to take responsibility for that decision? Dude.” He glared at the other man, whatever guilt he had previously washed away in an instant. “Plus, the whole ‘don’t wake me up next time’ thing is fucking insane. You have so little faith in your new ‘boyfriend’ that you assume he’ll do it again? You, the only fucking one in this world who is supposed to believe I’m not rotten to the core? Or maybe it’s that you know I am, but you don’t care?”

Slowly, he was putting the puzzle pieces together. It was all so sketchy. Takeshi claimed to like him, but that was not what this seemed like anymore. He was desperate for attention and acceptance from anyone. If someone else had been the one giving the blond attention, he would’ve fallen for them. It wasn’t him Takeshi wanted. No. It was just a desire for acceptance, the need for attention, wasn’t it? In order to get it, he’d do anything. He’d put up with anyone, no matter how monstrous. Takeshi didn’t care about who he really was or what he struggled with. Not one detail about him actually mattered as long as he got what he needed.

Anger coiled up within him like a snake, quiet and insidious. How could he have been so blind? He had been told so many, many times that no one would ever come to love him, and for once, his feelings for Takeshi had blinded him to that fact. They made him think that, even for a moment, someone cared about him on a deeper level— something he knew was impossible. What a fucking joke.

Oh well. He knew now, and that was what mattered. He’d wait until the other man recovered a little and then break things off. As ironic as it may seem, he felt like the one who had been used. He should’ve understood Takeshi’s true desires the second he brushed off his concerns about dating and intimate details about himself without a second thought, and even more so when he pushed himself to give that blowjob despite knowing exactly what could happen.

“I’m not suggesting you go to the hospital. I’m telling you to. It’s your choice— either you go to the hospital or I call an ambulance.” Something in him hated the fact that he still cared about Takeshi enough to make sure he recovered from this. Whatever. After this was over, he could pack up and skip town. “You’re not destroying yourself with that self-pity bullshit on my watch. Save that shit for when I’m gone.”

He took out his phone, ready to dial.

“So what will it be?”

it's not the first time takeshi had passed out before, it likely wouldn't be the last either. but the way that he comes to is so violent, so abrupt that it completely throws him off. his lungs burn, chest tight as he tries to take in oxygen, as he tries to breathe. takeshi rolls onto his stomach, coughing violently. his face and head ache, a dull pain that's ever present but that's not his main concern at the moment, more focused on just trying to get his breathing right again.

and he does eventually - maybe a minute or two pass before he's taking shallow, shaky breaths. it's been a while since someone had roughed him up this badly and he laughs, honest to god laughs at the situation he'd found himself in. it's not like his usual laugher, filled with unadulterated joy - no, it's bitter, like the taste in his mouth that helps him fill in the blanks, tells him that kai hadn't had any concern for his own wellbeing - at least not at first.

he supposes he should be thankful that kai had decided to help him in the end - but as the blond shakily gets to his feet, as he stumbles and damn near cracks his head on the wall again, he sort of wishes that kai had just fuckin' left him for dead. would've been easier, less painful and fuck -- he wouldn't have this god awful headache and what he was pretty sure was a fuckin' broken nose to deal with. but hey - that's just his luck, right? a man just can't fuckin' die in peace, can he?

it's been a while since he'd felt like this - dirty and used. it's all fun and games at first, always is. that desperate need to have attention - any kind of attention, to feel wanted if only for a moment had never truly left takeshi. but the rejection he feels when kai won't even so much as look at him? when he treats him like he's not even worth the time of day - fuck, the anger boils up inside him just under his skin, reminds him of when that had been his life, when people had thought he was something to use, to take advantage of. takeshi was weak back then - too scared to stand up to anyone, too worried about the consequences to fight back but fuck, he doesn't care now.

❝f-fuck you. i don't need th' fuckin' hospital-- ❞ he grits out, tries pushing up from the wall he'd been leaning against, tries taking a step toward kai. he doesn't know what he plans on doing once he takes the few steps forward and--

pain as he moves, dizziness getting the better of him as he falls to the ground. takeshi wills his body to move, but it takes all of his effort just to stop himself from keeling over again. if kai bothered to look back then the sight before him would have been pathetic, almost painful to watch as the blond manages to pull himself back up again.

you deserve this. you deserve every fuckin' thing that you get. stupid - aren't you, shi? might be bat shit fuckin' crazy now but that doesn't change the fact that you'll never learn.

❝ shut up-- ❞ he mutters to himself, gives a good old whack to the head as though that might make the voices stay quiet for once. i'm not going anywhere, shi. can't shut me up. i'm in your head forever.

❝ --fuckin' said shut up! ❞ he grunts, wobbly on his feet as he starts to leave. ❝ next time y'do somethin' like tha' - don't bother wakin' me up, yeah? ain't fuckin' worth th' hassle-- ❞

[exopelagic]

my players don’t know it yet but the adventure we’re doing rn is me being silly goofy bc they hadn’t made their characters in time for me to plan around them. now that I Know Things the game can really start

[jaqdawks]

Aaaaaaaa

[imaginedisish]

Heroes (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I think I used David Bowie's "Heroes" for another fic when I first started writing on this blog. Oh well. We're using it again bc it inspired this fic. This is a combo request fic: Co-teachers/Logan having a nightmare/smut. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are assigned by Charles to co-teach a class to learn how to work as a team. You expect Logan to be cold, distant, short. What you don't expect is the way you find yourself needing him, and him needing you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft!Logan, cocky!Logan (always), softdom!Logan vibes, implied age gap (Logan is obvi older), frenemies to lovers, feelings, some violence (Logan accidentally hurts the reader while having a nightmare), reader has regenerative powers, fluff, hurt to comfort (literally), reader has family trauma, afab!/f!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 5,267 kinda wanna do a part 2 this was cute

“I work better alone Charles. You know that.” 

You and Logan Howlett never did see eye to eye. 

“Yes, Logan. Which is why I’m giving you this challenge.”

He was always cold. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Always distant. 

“Hence why it is an excellent idea, Logan.”

But you never thought he’d be this resistant to teaching a class with you. 

“I’m fine with it,” you say, your eyes flitting between Logan and Charles. “It doesn’t faze me at all.”

Logan’s leather jacket crinkles and he puts his hands on his hips. He furrows his brows. “You’re fine with this?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t see why not.” Your eyes find Logan’s, but you can’t make out the expression on his face. Can’t tell if it’s dislike, pure hatred, or something else altogether. 

“This can’t happen,” Logan insists, tearing his eyes away from yours and turning towards the Professor. His words sting and you’re not quite sure why—not sure why you should care about this at all. 

“It is too late,” Charles’s voice booms. “I have already decided. You will co-teach a history class for...” Charles trails off, choosing his words carefully. “Younger students.”

You smile, but Logan rolls his eyes, his brows still furrowed. “How young?” You say in unison, although in starkly different tones. You whip your head to face Logan and find that his eyes are already on you.  

“Ages six to seven,” Charles explains. “This will be a smaller class, given how rare it is for children of that age to show their abilities, and the course will be incredibly simple.” He rolls away from behind the desk and approaches you and Logan in the center of the room. “I have faith that the two of you can handle this.”

Logan exhales deeply but doesn’t say a word. “We can,” you answer, your stare breaking away from Logan and turning to the Professor instead. “I look forward to teaching the class,” you pause, “with Logan.”

Something in Logan’s glare softens. His frown slowly disappears, melting away. His jaw relaxes, and his shoulders go slack. “Fine.” He’s curt, but something about the resolve in his voice gives you an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe this will go well. 

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

This is, in fact, not going well at all. 

Agreeing on the curriculum was not a problem. Logan, having experienced most of U.S. History, believes in telling history as it happened. No rose-colored glasses. No murky half-truths or prettily wrapped white lies. No weird Christopher Columbus-themed arts and crafts. Having seen multiple wars and experiencing the power of government exploitation firsthand—not surprisingly—has made Logan progressive.

So, you had designed an age-appropriate, honest, curriculum. You were shocked at how well you and Logan worked together. You shared quiet hours in the library, passing scribblings and notes back and forth while pouring over books. You actually felt quite confident. 

That is, until the very first class. 

You and Logan had only just introduced yourselves—written your names on the board. 

“We are going to have a fun, educational year,” you finish, smiling widely. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young girl in the center of the room raises her hand. You nod towards her, and she smiles sheepishly. “Are you two married?”

You’re taken back, your brows furrowing. “Oh, um—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off, his arms crossing tightly against his chest. His shortness hurts more than you’re willing to admit. “Absolutely not.” 

The little girl’s eyes widen. “But then why do you look at her like that?”

“Excuse me?” Logan asks, his voice a little too harsh. “Like what, kid?”

“Logan,” you whisper, turning to face him. “She’s six. Let it go,” you chide. “Professor Logan and I are friends and co-teachers. That’s all.” You turn back to the little girl, who nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. 

The rest of the class goes relatively well. It’s very introductory—teaching the children how mutant history and human history are intertwined. You and Logan are able to simplify things for the children so that they can understand. And, as the class goes on, Logan seems more comfortable with the children. 

The period is almost over when a little boy raises his hand, and Logan calls on him. “My older brother told me people like us are scary,” he says shyly. His eyes are sad—too tired for a six-year-old. “He told me that we shouldn’t exist.”

Your stomach drops, tears burning behind your sinuses. You think back to your own family, back to the trauma of being disowned for something you couldn’t control. You’re too heartbroken to tackle the question. Logan’s eyes flicker between you and the little boy. 

“Your brother is wrong,” Logan answers, crossing the room to stand next to you. He brings a hand to your lower back. It’s the ghost of a touch, but it’s a lifeline. “You’re special,” Logan says, and you know he’s talking to you, too. “You all are. Don’t listen to what they say. You’re more important than you’ll ever know. More extraordinary than they can understand.”

The bell rings, and the children stand, collecting their belongings. “See you all tomorrow,” Logan shouts over the shuffling and ruckus in the hallway. The children file out the door, jumping and cheering as if nothing happened. 

“They’re so resilient,” you say, shaking your head and watching them leave. You look over to Logan—his face close to yours, his palm still pressed against your back. 

“So are you,” he whispers, smiling softly, rubbing up and down your back. “You did great.”

“Yes, she did. And you did too, Logan,” Charles says, suddenly in the doorway to the classroom. “I forgot to drop off the roll call this morning,” Charles explains, holding out a sheet of paper. You cross the room to meet him, taking the sheet into your hands. “It has the list of names of the children in your class, as well as their abilities.” Charles backs into the hallway. “Excellent work, you two. You make a better team than you realize.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you say. Logan mumbles a soft Thanks, and heads towards the door once Charles is gone. 

He scratches his head, almost nervously. “Got another class to teach,” he husks. “Meet up later to go over tomorrow’s lesson plan?” 

You nod your head. “Sounds good.” Logan smiles and walks through the doorway and down the hall. 

You look at the roll call, and your eyes widen. Your heart beats out of your chest. You find the name of the little girl who had asked if you and Logan were married. 

Claire Teller—Precognition, Clairvoyance, shows signs of potential telekinesis.

The paper falls from your hands and drifts slowly to the floor. You look down, your lips parted in shock. Did she see you and Logan—

“You alright, sugar?” Rogue’s voice snaps you back to reality. You look up, and she’s standing in the door. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

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

The rest of the week goes smoothly. You and Logan meet each night to discuss the lesson plan for the following day. The classes go well. Claire always seems a bit distracted, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, but she does just fine in class. 

In fact, you’d say this was going better than well. You and Logan, despite his hesitation in the beginning, were growing closer every day. 

It’s written in secret, stolen moments—hands accidentally brushing, glances across the room. But you can feel it, the way your lives are being sewn together. You find ways to spend time alone outside of class—ordering dinner and grading together, practicing in the Danger Room as partners and not opponents. You had become something of a team.   

Tonight, you’re alone with Logan, sitting on the floor of his room, grading the small quiz you had given the children on the branches of government. Logan had picked the background music—60s and 70s rock. 

You hum along to Evil Woman by Electric Light Orchestra as you write “100%” at the top of a student’s quiz. 

“Pretty voice,” Logan rasps, looking up from his last quiz. Before you can react, before you can even process what he says, he’s moving on. “You almost done?”

“Just finished.” You write another “100%” and look up at Logan. He’s on his side, resting his head in his hand, balancing on his elbow. He smirks and stands up, striding over to you. He reaches his hand out, and you tilt your head, confused. You take his hand all the same, and he pulls you up. 

Logan’s hands find your waist, and he sways you from side to side. You giggle, shakily bringing your arms up and around his neck. Your heart thunders in your chest as you dance with him. 

“Didn’t take you for a dancer,” you murmur. Evil Woman fades out and Heroes by David Bowie starts up.  

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Logan husks. He pulls you in tighter, his chest pressed to yours. 

“Yeah?” You ask, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. Your eyes flutter closed. “Like what?”

He’s suddenly silent, and you can feel the tension thicken in the room. “When Charles came to us about the class…” He trails off, searching for the right words to say. “I was nervous,” he admits. 

You lift your head from his neck. “Why?” You question, smiling softly. 

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “Because I—” But then there’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Charles on the other side. Logan huffs, his eyes closing defeatedly as he loosens his hold on your waist and walks over to the door. 

“There has been an emergency,” Charles says the second the door is open. “I need you to go on a mission immediately. This is a dire situation.”

Logan looks across the room to you. “Okay,” he says, his eyes still trained on yours. 

Charles nods and heads down the hallway. “Meet me downstairs. Hank is readying the jet now.” 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you confess, fighting the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. You can’t quite place where the feeling is coming from—why you’re suddenly so nervous about Logan leaving. A month ago, this sort of thing would’ve felt routine, normal. There’s always a crisis somewhere. 

Logan swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll come back,” he promises. “And we can talk then.” He strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms, and pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” 

“Logan?” Charles calls from downstairs. “We need to leave at once!” 

Logan squeezes you tightly before letting go. He works his jaw, his teeth gritting as he backs out of the room and down the hallway. Your heart drops as you listen to his footsteps echoing against the stairs. By the time you muster up the courage to follow him, it’s too late. The door to the mansion slams just as you make it to the bottom of the steps. 

You can still hear Heroes faintly playing from Logan’s room. 

And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, forever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

You sit on the bottom step, your head falling into your hands.

“Oh, sugar,” Rogue whispers as she walks into the foyer. She settles next to you. “I didn’t know you and Logan…” She trails off, shaking her head. “He’ll come back. He always does.” She hangs her arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her chest. 

You hope she’s right. 

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

The next morning, Logan is still gone. You’re forced to teach the class alone. As you’re starting roll call, a young boy raises his hand. 

“Yes, Jimmy?” You call, arching your brows. 

“Where’s Professor Logan?” He asks curiously, tilting his head to the side. 

You swallow harshly, inhaling deeply. “He has something to take care of,” you explain. “It’ll just be me teaching today. Is that alright with you?” You try to sound light, jovial, plastering a fake smile across your face. The kids buy it, giggling and nodding. Jimmy smiles widely and nods, too.

But Claire—the little girl who can seemingly see into the future, stares at you sympathetically. It sends a chill down your spine. It’s like she knows how you’re feeling—can see it in her mind’s eye. You shake the feeling off, proceeding with the lesson. The material is distracting enough—the U.S. voting system, carefully explained so that the children can understand. 

The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, and the bell finally rings. The session felt longer than usual without Logan, and certainly harder to get through, but not impossible. The class picks up their belongings and files out. You grab your papers, readying to leave, assuming that everyone is gone. 

“He’s going to come back,” a small, familiar voice whispers. You look up from your materials, and there’s Claire, standing in front of the desk. Her deep, brown eyes twitch back and forth. She closes them tightly and smiles. “You don’t have to worry,” she assures. “He’s safe. He’ll always come back to you.” She pauses. “All I see is happiness.” The veins in her temples grow thicker, and you can tell she’s working too hard to look to the future.

“Claire,” you say, your hand grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself, my love. You don’t have to do that for me. I’m okay.”

Her eyes fly open, and she smiles widely, as if nothing happened. She steps away from the desk, your hand falling from her shoulder. “Didn’t hurt at all!” She calls as she skips out the door. “See you Monday!”

You shake your head. Resilient, you think to yourself. So goddamn resilient. 

The rest of the evening is slow. You try to keep yourself busy—grading papers, listening to music, going for a run, training in the Danger Room. But all you can think about is Logan. 

After dinner, you get ready for bed, changing into a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. You sit alone in your room, on your bed, reminding yourself of what Claire had told you this afternoon. 

He’s going to come back. You don’t have to worry. He’s safe. 

You lay back on your pillows, bringing the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes. You repeat her words over and over again in your head as you fall asleep. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe. 

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

You wake up a few hours later, your bedside lamp still on. Your alarm clock reads 1:45 AM. You groan, rolling over and shutting your eyes tightly, trying to force yourself back to sleep. But it’s no use—you’re awake, thinking of Logan already. 

You push yourself to sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, and pressing your feet into the cold wood floors below. You walk to your door, twist the knob, and head out into the hallway.  A lap around the mansion might make you tired—might relax you. 

You walk down the hallway slowly, noticing instantly that Logan’s door is closed. You can’t help but pick up your pace, striding towards Logan’s room. 

You stand in front of his door, your hand on the knob, ready to twist and push. You stop yourself, wondering if this is crossing a line, tearing down a carefully constructed boundary. But all you want is to see him breathing, lying on his bed. You need to know he’s in there—safe. 

You knock once, but there’s no answer. You swallow nervously, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. 

Your heart stops. There he is. He’s home. He’s safe. He’s breathing. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as you start to close the door. 

But then his head snaps to the side, and he grunts. “Logan?” You call, opening the door slightly. He doesn’t answer. He grunts again. You quickly notice the way his fists white-knuckle his sheets. 

You step inside his room, closing the door behind you. “Lo,” you whisper into the darkness. He tosses and turns, his head whipping from side to side. He must be having a nightmare, You think to yourself, your heart breaking in two, watching pain wrack his body, his mind. 

You meet his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him softly. “Logan,” you say, your voice louder, stronger this time. “You need to wake up.” But he doesn’t. He groans, his brows furrowed, sweat beading his forehead. 

“Come on,” you plead, climbing into the bed, and straddling him. You hold him down by his shoulders, stopping him from writhing. Now that you’re closer, you can see the tears streaming down his cheeks, can see the agony etched into the lines of his face. “Logan!” You yell. “You gotta wake—”

His eyes fly open, and you feel cold metal pierce your leg. Your jaw drops as pain stings sharply in your thigh. “Oh fuck,” Logan curses, sitting up and retracting his claws. Tears brim in the corners of your eyes as the pain worsens. “Shit!” He cries out, grabbing at your thigh, blood spilling into his fingers. 

You close your eyes as your powers take hold. Your skin slowly stitches up, putting yourself together again. You groan, and Logan wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into the side of your head, pressing soft, gentle kisses there. “I love you, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

What did he just say?

“W-what?” You ask, the pain fading away as those three words echo in your mind. 

Logan’s breathing only quickens as he realizes what he said. “A-are you okay?” He asks, ignoring your question. 

You nod. “It’s already gone,” you whisper, nodding to your thigh. “But what did you just—”

“I love you,” he interrupts, saying it again. You pull back a bit to look at him. You can see the seriousness in his eyes, the adoration, the honesty. “I love you.” 

You bite your lip, your eyes widening as you process what this means. Logan loves you. It’s everything you ever wanted. Everything you could have asked for. It just makes sense.

“I love you too,” you confess, choking on your words. “I was so worried. I didn’t know when you’d come back, or if you’d come back at all. I saw your door closed, and I just had to see you. I needed to know that you were okay, that you came home.”

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closing. “Before I left,” he pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I was going to tell you why I didn’t want to work together.” His eyes open again. “I was scared to get close to you,” he explains. “I knew I wanted you the second I saw you. Knew I had to have you. I’ve never felt that way before. You opened something inside me that I thought I didn’t have. Turns out it was just locked, waiting around for you.”

“Logan,” you breathe, his lips just inches from yours. “I wanted you too. Wanted you this whole time.” You need him to kiss you—to take you right here and now. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you admit, giggling softly. 

He shakes his head, smirking. “I liked you too much,” he rasps. “Didn’t know what to do about it. You were driving me crazy, sweetheart.” You can feel his erection straining in his boxers, and you can’t help but grind down on him, your core rocking against his cock. “Fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips. “Slow down, pretty girl. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod emphatically. “Already healed,” you assure him. “Just need you, Lo.”

“Need you too, sweetheart,” Logan groans, rolling your hips against his, tugging you down his length. “Can feel you soaking through those panties already,” he grunts. And he’s right. The heat pooling between your legs is uncontrollable. 

You groan as your clit drags across his erection. “F-fuck,” you stutter, his fingers digging into your hips. You bring your hands to the waistband of his boxers, tugging at them. But before you can get anywhere, Logan is flipping you onto your back and crawling down your body. 

“Next time, sweetheart,” he coos, hiking your shirt up and smirking when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He palms your breasts, tweaking your nipples before sliding down further. “Wanna take care of you this first time.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words. You can see the hunger in his eyes as he kisses down your stomach, going past the hem of your panties, stopping at your clit. He takes a deep breath. “Can smell that pretty pussy. Know she needs me, darlin’.” 

He hooks his fingers into your waistband, and tugs the thin lace down your legs, revealing your aching cunt to him. He settles between your thighs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

“L-Lo,” you choke. “Please.”

He smiles against you, breathing you in again. “Please what, princess?” He asks, looking up at you under hooded eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you beg. “Need you. Always gonna need you.” 

His smile meets his eyes as he licks a long stripe through your folds, his tongue pushing through your entrance, tasting you, savoring you. He hums against you, the vibration of his voice rocking your core. “Tastes so good,” he mumbles, licking another long stripe. “Perfect pussy. Knew you’d be this sweet.”

You watch as he laps at you, drinking you in. Logan’s tongue finds your clit, drawing tight circles into the bud. “F-feels so good,” you stutter. 

“I know, beautiful” He soothes, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh, drawing closer to your heat. “You look so pretty when you let me eat you out,” he praises, his fingers prodding your entrance. “You want more?” He teases, slipping just past your slit and quickly pulling out. 

“Yes,” you whimper, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Need your fingers, Lo. Please.”

He wastes no time—suddenly thrusting inside you, his long, thick fingers splitting you in two. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. “So tight,” he coos, pulling out and sliding back in. “So fucking wet.”

Logan wraps his lips around your clit, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks, hard. He releases, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your walls clench around his fingers at the sensation. “Fuck,” Logan curses, smirking against you. “You like that?” He teases. “Like when I’m rough with you?” His tongue flits out, lapping flat strokes across your clit. 

You moan a soft Yes in affirmation, your back arching off the mattress. You’re already close, ready to let go. But Logan isn’t letting up, his fingers slamming into you, taking your clit back into his mouth and sucking harder, rougher this time. He swirls soothing circles into the bud, pushing you to the edge. 

“Logan,” you whine, your hips squirming as he drags his tongue harder against your heat. “I’m so close.” 

Your muscles contract and release around his fingers as he hits that sweet spot inside you, pump after pump. “I know, pretty girl,” He soothes, his free hand wrapping around your hip and holding you down to the mattress. “Look at you,” he praises between harsh sucks. “So beautiful like this.” His tongue circles your overstimulated clit. “Already fucked out, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you mutter, your hips squirming helplessly against his grip. It’s all too much, his hushed whispers, his praises, the way his tongue flits against you, his deep thrusts dragging along your walls. “Logan, I’m gonna…” 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coaches, his tongue still lapping at you ravenously. He’s starving, unwilling to stop. He needs more. “Should keep you in my bed so I can taste you whenever I want.” He grunts against you. “Want you to come on my fingers, darlin’. Wanna taste it. Let go.”

It’s all blazing, white-hot heat, raging through your body, searing your skin. Your eyes stay trained on Logan as he works you through your orgasm—ravaging you, lapping up every last drop of your release. His fingers pump in and out, slowly, before he pulls out completely. But his face stays buried against your cunt, his tongue pushing through your folds. 

“Logan,” you whine, lacing your fingers through his hair. “Need you up here.” 

He looks up from your heat and licks one more long stripe before climbing up your body. He tugs his boxers down his legs, his eyes not leaving yours. His cock springs free, bumping against his stomach. 

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand wraps around the base of his cock. You instinctually spread your legs, as if it’s second nature, as if you’ve been here before. “Such a good girl,” Logan praises, sliding his tip through your folds. “All spread open for me.” His cock nudges against your clit and slides back down. “You need me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you choke. “More than you can—”

And then he’s plunging inside you, bottoming out with just one thrust. “Fuck!” You cry out. He stays inside, unmoving, letting you adjust to the size of him. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “You okay?” He asks. His cock throbs, pushing against your walls, searching for more. His hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter, sighing in relief as his fingertips draw gentle strokes into the bud. “S-so big.”

“I know,” Logan soothes, sliding out only to shove himself back in, down to the hit. Your back arches off the mattress, your chest coming flush with his. “Gonna work you open.” His voice is gentle, calm. “I’ve got you. Relax for me, sweetheart.” 

Logan pulls out and thrusts in again, his lips swallowing your moans with a kiss. His fingers swirl around your clit as pleasure pulses through your every nerve ending. “Feels so good,” you murmur as he picks up his pace, his hips rolling against yours. 

He grunts. “So perfect,” he praises. “Fucking made for me.” He pumps in and out of you harder, faster now, letting himself go. He pinches your clit, rolling the bud under his fingertips. “Never gonna want anyone but you, you know that?” He twitches inside you, and your walls flutter around him. 

You curse under your breath. “Yes,” you cry out. “Only gonna want you, Lo. Only you.”

“Doing so good for me,” he husks between hard thrusts. “Taking me so well.” His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit rapidly, adding more pressure. His lips find yours again, biting, kissing you bruisingly, fitting against you like a puzzle piece. 

Your chests heave together, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing against the walls of the room. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. He bites down on your pulse point, his tongue flitting out to lick the pain away. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your walls contract around him, squeezing him as he sinks deeper inside you, hitting exactly where you need him most. You’re so close, ready to come undone. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine as he pounds into you. “I’m gonna—”

“Me too, pretty girl,” he rasps, twitching inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunges deeper. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna…” He trails off, his cock throbbing inside you again. You know he can’t hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist. “Don’t stop,” you beg. “Stay inside.” 

He groans, his forehead pressing to yours. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? That what you’re asking for?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, his fingers pinching your clit and stroking relentlessly. “Please,” you choke, begging, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. 

“Fuck,” he curses. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Wanna make you mine.” 

“Already yours,” you whisper, your muscles contracting around his length again, your legs trembling as stars flood your vision. Logan moans your name, and you can feel him spilling inside you. You come together, your orgasm crashing into you, more intense, more powerful than the last. 

“Love you so much,” he whispers as he finishes, painting your walls. 

“Love you too, Lo,” you say back, your heart beating out of your chest as you come down from your high. 

His fingers drag against your clit, swiping gently before running up your body, slipping under your back, and pulling you into his chest. His hips are still, his cock unmoving inside you. He finally pulls out, and rolls off you, taking you with him. He tugs you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “Need anything?”

“J-just you,” you stammer. His fingertips trace patterns along your back, soothing and gentle. 

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and moving to sit up. But you stop him, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding him down. He smirks, letting you pull him back. “I’m just gonna grab a towel, yeah? Wanna take care of you. I’ll come right back.”

You nod, letting him go. He slips out of the bed, strides over to his bathroom, and grabs a towel from inside without turning a light on. Within ten seconds he’s back in bed, just like he said he would be. 

Logan brings the towel between your legs and wipes you clean. His touch is gentle, soothing, careful not to be too rough. Once he’s done, he throws the towel to the floor and reaches over to his nightstand. When he turns back to you, he has a glass of water in his hand. He extends the glass out, bringing it to your lips. The water feels cool as it slides down your throat. You drain the glass, and Logan smiles as he pulls it from your lips. 

He places the cup back down on the nightstand and pulls you into his arms again. You bury your head into the center of his chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. It’s even, steady, constant. Just like him. 

“Never felt like this before,” he whispers into the silent darkness of the room. 

“Like what?” You mumble, your voice muffled against his chest. 

You can hear the smile in his voice as the words leave his lips. “Happy. Safe.”

Tears—happy tears—free themselves from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. 

“Can’t let go of you,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna go back to before.”

“You don’t have to, Lo,” you pant. “I’m yours. Always.” And you know you mean it. You know it’s true. It’s already been decided, already played out. Already etched into the future. 

Are you two married? Claire had asked. 

He’ll always come back to you. All I see is happiness, She had promised.

And she was right. 

“I love you,” Logan husks. 

“I love you, too.” 

tags: @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @Ifdybadgirlsdiw @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[brokenmenswhore]

first | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders (james, remus, & sirius) x fem!reader

summary: virginity loss trope :)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language, gender swapped dorcas cus i said so 🤷🏻‍♀️

────── ☾ ──────

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, body halting as the staircase began to shift beneath you, “and completely untrue.”

“Oh come on, you never do anything interesting! For your sake, it has to be true,” Sirius teased.

You turned to him, mouth open in offense. “I’m plenty interesting.”

“But not interesting enough to lose your virginity to Meadowes in the library during fourth year?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“No! It didn’t happen!” you protested, “now please, let it go.”

“How would a rumor like that even get out if it isn’t true?” James asked genuinely.

“Probably because everyone knows Meadowes has the hots for her. Bet you he started it himself,” Remus answered, distaste evident in his voice.

“Are you three done now?” you asked, whispering the common room password and letting the boys in.

“So if it isn’t true, how did you lose it?” Sirius pressed.

You looked at him stunned, eyes wide in disbelief that he would ask you something like that out of the blue.

“Absolutely not,” you said, raising a finger toward him, “I’m not playing that game.”

“Oh come on!” Sirius raised his hands and smiled, “you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, now I’m curious,” James continued on, “if not Dorcas, who?”

You sighed, placing your books down and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, turning toward them exasperated. “Why does it matter?”

“You know seventeen of the girls I’ve slept with by heart,” Sirius replied, “I’d say it’s only fair.”

“Sirius, you told me about seventeen of the girls you’ve slept with. Willingly. Without me asking. Ever,” you said, earning a laugh from James at your disgust.

They followed you up the stairs to your dorm, empty from everyone sneaking off to a party in the Ravenclaw common room that you were supposed to be getting ready for, but alas, you were late and distracted.

You sat down in front of your vanity mirror, ready to start applying makeup, when Remus placed a hand on the desk in front of you, leaning his face in close to you, his hair falling slightly in front of his face. He was completely in your personal space.

“Come on, Y/N, tell us who got to fuck you first.”

Remus’ voice was low, and his breath fanned your face as he spoke. You locked eyes with him, a sigh leaving your chest that you weren’t aware you were holding in. You were nervous to have him this close.

“No one has. Sorry to disappoint. Now drop it, will you?”

Remus didn’t move. You continued to look up into his eyes, your voice a little shaky, and you didn’t know what to do. You moved to get up, but Remus caught your chin between his fingers, pulling your attention back to him. “Meaning what?”

“Did you not hear me? Cus you’re like 6 inches away from me, so if you didn’t, you need to get your hearing checked,” you said, annoyed at your current predicament, just wanting to make the embarrassing conversation end. Remus finally let you stand, but Sirius and James were right behind you, stopping you from leaving the room. You opted to sit on your bed.

“You guys are insufferable.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “So you’re-“ he trailed off.

“A virgin, yes, wow, how crazy of me. You know, it’s not that weird, you all just have a personal body count higher than everyone at this school combined. And everyone else’s body count includes you. Can we please just forget about this?” you begged.

“Such attitude,” James teased, “from such a good girl.”

“Oh, so I’m a goodie two-shoes now that you’ve all discovered I’ve never had sex?”

“Kinda, yeah,” James giggled.

“Fuck you guys,” you sighed, partially lighthearted and partially annoyed, “it was my choice. You think I couldn’t have screwed Dorcas Meadowes in the library if I wanted to?”

No one had a response. Sirius’ nostrils flared, and Remus sighed. They almost seemed… jealous? at the thought of you and someone else.

You four were ridiculously close, anyone could see that, and you would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about them in that way, but you were best friends, and you didn’t want to risk ruining that.

“You ever think about, like, just doing it?” Sirius asked.

“What?” you replied.

“Do you ever think about just saying fuck it and asking someone, like, I don’t know, one of us, to just take your virginity?”

Your breathing caught in your chest. You stared at Sirius, a million thoughts coming to your head but you couldn’t articulate any of them. You had no idea what to say.

“I mean, I’ve thought about losing my virginity, yeah, that’s normal,” you explained.

“To one of us?” Remus asked.

You could lie. You could act disgusted at the question and walk away now, or, you could tell the truth, and risk ruining your entire friendship. You could also tell the truth and potentially gain everything you wanted.

Your voice became small, your eyes watching your hands fidget in your lap, “maybe.”

The boys all exchanged a look between one another.

James was the only one who was able to pull himself together. “W-who?”

You titled your head up at him. “What?”

James sat down on the bed next to you. “Which one of us?”

You could physically see all the boys tense up, ready to be filled with either pride or jealousy. Sirius and Remus were staring daggers at you, anxiously awaiting your answer. James kept his eyes on you as well, trying to make you feel less intimidated and tense than Sirius and Remus were.

Your eyes darted between all of them, “I-“

You were evidently nervous, and Remus felt bad. He knelt on the ground in front of you, taking your hands in his own. It was the most intimate gesture you’d received from him yet. He kept his voice soft. “Angel, you don’t have to tell us, but we really want to know. I promise none of us will be too hurt. Please,” he almost begged.

You sighed. You weren’t worried because you only thought about one of them, you were worried because you were embarrassed to tell them the truth. You took a deep breath. It was now or never. “All of you.”

They were not prepared for that answer.

Remus and James stared at you and tried to process your words. Sirius was more of an “act on impulse” and “speak without thinking” kind of guy.

“Fuck off,” he said, “all of us?”

“Mhm.”

“Like at the same time?” he pushed.

“Sirius-“ Remus warned.

“No, no, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, attention back on you, “I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about losing your virginity to all three of us. At the same time. I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about us fucking you.” He was standing dangerously close to you now.

“I- I have,” you said, blush evident in your cheeks.

Sirius growled. “Remus, move.”

“Excuse me?” Remus snapped back.

“Move.”

Remus sighed and moved out of the way so that Sirius was standing directly in front of you. “You stop us if there’s anything you don’t like. Understood?”

You nodded your head, but that wasn’t enough.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you retried.

Sirius gave you a small smile before grabbing your face in his hands, tilting your head up and leaning down to give you a long, intimate kiss. Once you had settled in, he deepened the kiss, his carnal desires taking over. He slowly leaned you back on the bed, your legs still hanging off the mattress, as he placed one knee next to your waist, holding himself up as he continued kissing you. When your back hit the mattress, you held the back of Sirius’s head to keep him in place.

You felt one of the boys behind Sirius, pulling your pants off and leaving your lower half nearly exposed.

Sirius flopped down on the bed next to you, still kissing you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

James slowly kissed up your thigh, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders as he kissed your underwear right above your heat. You gasped, but Sirius didn’t let you break the kiss.

“Sirius, come on, give her a break,” James pleaded, “I wanna hear her.”

Sirius groaned into the kiss before breaking it, looking down to James in between your legs. “Well, go on then.”

Sirius was still feral and needy, pulling your shirt over your head and ripping off your bra, immediately going to grab and kiss at your breasts. You were embarrassed at the exposure, but everyone was moving on your body so fast that you didn’t have time to think about your body being on display.

James pushed your underwear to the side and kissed your folds, causing you to squeal. This was an unfamiliar feeling, but you were growing wetter and wetter by the minute. He pushed your folds open with his tongue, licking and flicking at your clit. You whined and threw your head back. He continued his actions, peeking up at you from between your legs, watching you come apart as he ate you out like a man starved.

“Take it easy,” you heard Remus say from behind your head, “you gotta remember she’s never done this.”

James moaned into your cunt as a response, sending a shiver up your body, causing your legs to shake slightly. He kept sucking and licking circles around your bud, and you couldn’t help but grab the hair at the back of his head, pushing him closer into you.

“Good girl,” Sirius cooed from beside you, touching every exposed part of your body that he could.

As James’ tongue quickened, your whines grew louder, but you tried to tame them and save yourself further embarrassment. Remus noticed and was not happy. He grabbed your face and forced your neck to look backward at him. “Are you holding back?”

“N-no,” you said anxiously, not sure if it was the truth.

“Ah, but I think you are,” he started, “and we don’t accept that. Let us hear you.”

“But I’m emb-“

“I don’t care if you’re embarrassed. Stop holding back. Now.”

Remus’s demanding and controlling demeanor only added at the pleasure James was giving you with his mouth. You did as he said. James continued to quicken his pace, whines and moans falling from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” Remus asked.

“Yes, Rem, I-“

“No fair!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed, “if you ask her all the questions, you get to hear her moan your name. Selfish prick.”

“Are you gonna let this be about her or what?” Remus retorted.

“I am! I should be asking you the same thing, why do you always get to be in control of everything?”

They bickered back and forth for a few minutes, but the entire time, James remained focused on you. He watched from between your legs as his tongue made you squirm and moan, and he had you nearly seeing stars.

You desperately tried to tell him you were going to come, but Remus and Sirius were too busy bickering for James to hear you. You tapped at his head to signal him, and he got the message, sucking at your bud until you finally came. Your chest rapidly rose and fell as James continued to lick you until he had tasted every last drop of cum from your hole, standing up and placing a wet kiss on your lips.

“What, did you just give up?” Sirius asked when he saw James standing.

“No, idiot, she came,” James replied, “you two dickheads were too busy arguing to notice.”

Remus’s nostrils flared. “You just let us keep arguing?”

“She tried to say something!” James defended you, and partly himself.

“Baby, you ok?” Remus checked in.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“You got a little more in you?”

“Mhm.”

“You want me?”

“Mhm.”

Remus pulled his pants and boxers down and climbed on top of you, pulling your underwear completely off of you as he placed his knees on either side of your waist.

“You sure?” he asked, wanting to confirm your consent.

“Yes,” you responded.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with it being me?”

Instead of responding with words, you tilted your head up and kissed Remus, assuring him that you wanted it to be him. You would have been okay with any of the boys, but Remus was always so in control, it made sense that he would be your first. Your relationship with him was always a little less silly, and a little more intimate, than your relationship with the other two.

“Are you ready?” he checked, lining up his already hard cock at your entrance.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just- please be nice, okay?”

Remus smiled, “of course, baby.”

You nodded at him and locked eyes as he slowly pushed into you, a long gasp leaving your lips as he filled you up. His cock was bigger than you thought it would be, and it was taking you a while to adjust to his size.

“Shit, Rem,” you breathed out, “you should have warned me that you’re that fucking big.”

Sirius growled next to you, your words driving him crazy. He couldn’t help but pull out his cock, stroking it slowly as he watched you.

Remus gave you plenty of time to adjust before you nodded at him, signaling that he could move. He started slowly, pushing in and out of you as an excruciatingly slow pace. It burned, and you almost told Remus to stop, but after a few minutes, the pain subsided, and the pleasure took over.

A particularly filthy moan left your lips, and Sirius cursed under his breath. James appeared behind your head, stroking your hair as Remus’s head dropped to your shoulder as he began to pick up the pace.

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, “you feel so fucking good.”

“You look so fucking good,” Sirius breathed.

“Thank you, Siri,” you cried out, causing Sirius to cum in his hand, the nickname making him lose all control.

“What a good girl,” Remus spoke, his thrusts quickening until he was causing your body to jolt upward with each hit from the force, “you’re doing so well.”

James placed a kiss on your forehead and you reached up to grab his hand for leverage. You squeezed his hand, the pleasure between your legs becoming almost too much.

“Relax, baby, you’re being such a good girl,” James said.

Remus’ breathing quickened. “You’re so tight, angel, if you keep squeezing my cock like that I’m not gonna last,” he warned.

“I c-can’t help it,” you told him.

“I know baby,” he replied.

“I d- don’t know how to m- make it stop,” you said.

Remus giggled, “you don’t have to make it stop. It feels good for me.”

“Oh,” you whimpered, “that’s good.”

Remus giggled again. You were so cute, even in the middle of losing your virginity. Remus leaned down and kissed you, your lips moving in harmony as he began to pound into you. Any sense of kindness and mercy he had for this being your first time went out the window when you kissed.

Your moans grew louder and louder, and you tried to cover your mouth with your hand to quiet yourself down.

“Ah ah ah,” Sirius tsked, pulling your hand away, “none of that.”

“Rem- Rem- I-“

“I know angel, let go.”

Your high crashed over you again, your hips bucking upward to meet Remus’ final few thrusts before he came inside of you, the feeling of you squeezing him becoming too much for him to hold on. Remus stayed inside of you for a moment, watching your face as you calmed down from your high, a slight shake in your legs.

“What a good girl,” James praised, kissing your forehead.

“You okay?” Remus checked in, pulling out of you and standing in front of you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “‘m okay.”

Sirius leaned down to kiss you again. “Everything you imagined?”

“Mhm.” You were too tired to formulate complete words or sentences.

“You wanna skip the party?” Sirius continued.

“Mhm.”

“You wanna cuddle and watch a movie?”

“Mhm.” You shifted so your head was resting on Sirius’ lap as he began to stroke your hair.

Sirius smiled. “And then maybe round two.”

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[helaintoloki]

Can you write a fic between Bucky and an avenger reader (maybe she’s just a little older than Peter (like she’s in her mid 20s)and she always had a crush on Bucky)

notes: thank you for sending this in ! i hope you enjoy

warnings: fluff, mentions of night terrors

summary: you think you’re too young for Bucky to be interested in you. ironically, Bucky thinks he’s too old for you to be interested in him

“So how did that date go?” Wanda asks while watching you mindlessly scroll through the selection of movies Tony has on the entertainment room TV.

“I bailed,” Natasha admits shamelessly with an innocent shrug, prompting both Wanda and yourself to turn to her in shock. “I’m not really interested in giving up my personal time for something as trivial as a blind date.”

You hum thoughtfully at her response, only half listening as Wanda begins to pester her for more details about the man she had stood up. The three of you are enjoying a rare night of peace in the tower after forcing the men to vacate the premises and allow you to have the space to yourselves. The three of you are outnumbered on the team, so sometimes a break from the intense amounts of testosterone are needed for you all to decompress. Girl’s night is a simple tradition, but you all enjoy each other’s company more than anything.

“What about you, y/n?” Natasha prompts while gently nudging your side and breaking you from your daze. “Any guys out there you think are first date material?”

You shift uncomfortably now that the spotlight is on you and try to mask the embarrassment that washes over you in response to the question. You know your answer, but you think you’d rather die than admit the truth. You try to remain as nonchalant as possible by offering a seemingly uninterested shrug and answering with a quiet ‘No,’ but you unfortunately can’t hide the truth from a mind reader.

“She has a crush on Barnes,” Wanda blurts out before she can stop herself, causing your eyes to widen in horror at being exposed. Natasha lets out an amused huff while her counterpart quickly utters out apologies. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say it. It’s just your thoughts get so loud when you think about him.”

“You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that,” Natasha jokes much to your dismay.

“Is it really that obvious?” You groan before allowing your head to fall back against the couch in defeat. Wanda pats your arm sympathetically, obviously still guilty about her slip up. You’re just thankful no one else is in the tower other than the three of you.

“Not to him,” the Widow consoles with a faint smile, “the man isn’t exactly the greatest at navigating social interactions. But I’ve seen the way you look at him from across the room and how your eyes light up when Steve puts you together on missions. You like him.”

“It’s pathetic, I know,” you admit with a defeated sigh, looking between the two in despair. “I don’t even know how it happened! One day we’re just teammates and the next I’m suddenly realizing just how blue his eyes are instead of paying attention to a debrief.”

“There’s nothing pathetic about your feelings,” Wanda says with a comforting smile, “it’s only natural. Maybe you should try talking to him about it.”

You look at her as if she’s grown a second head before scoffing at her suggestion. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I’d ever be his type. Besides, he probably sees me as some kid considering I’m only twenty-six and he’s basically a hundred years old.”

Natasha can’t help but to let out a small chuckle at your predicament before taking the remote from your fidgety hands. You don’t exactly appreciate her amusement towards your self-depreciating rant, but you know she means well, and you also know you have a tendency to be a bit dramatic.

“Don’t sell yourself short, y/n/n,” she advises before finally deciding to hit play on a random comedy movie. “Remember that you’re the prize, and any guy or girl would be lucky to have you. Besides, you’ll never know what could happen if you don’t give it a shot.”

The conversation ends there as your trio becomes engrossed with the movie, but her words linger on your mind for the rest of the night. You really doubt Bucky could have anything but platonic feelings for you, and it would be embarrassing to confess your feelings only to have him shoot you down. You don’t think you could show your face around the tower again if that were to happen, but you also know that you would give anything to win the super soldier’s heart.

Your inner turmoil persists, and you go to bed that night unsure of how to move forward.

~~~

“Barnes, y/l/n, how are you holding up?”

“We’re pretty much fucked, Cap,” you grunt into your earpiece after being slammed against a wall. You thought the room had been cleared, but you were soon proven wrong by the assailants who had been hiding in the shadows waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Bucky was currently taking on three on his own while you tried to fight off the woman who seemed hell bent on killing you. “If I survive this will I still be written up for swearing?”

“Focus, y/n,” Natasha’s voice chimes in. “Do you guys need backup?”

You manage to chance a glance over at Bucky and see that he’s fairing rather well on his own, and after returning your attention back to your own attacker, you swiftly lift your knee so that it slams into her gut and forces her to stumble back. It doesn’t take you long to disarm her and render her unconscious so that she no longer proves to be a threat, and you’re finally able to return to your own task.

“No, we’re good. Bucky should be able to hold them off while I plant the chip into the computer system,” you finally reply before setting to work. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“I hope so because they’ve got reinforcements already on the way,” Tony alerts over the earpiece. “You need to be out of there within the next five minutes.”

“Yep, you got it,” you affirm before looking over your shoulder to see Bucky finishing off the last of your attackers. His broad shoulders rise and fall with his labored breaths, hair falling perfectly into place and blue eyes looking up to meet your gaze. You swallow nervously and return your attention to the computer in an attempt to act inconspicuous. Luckily for you, the files you came for have been uploaded. “Alright, let’s get out of here before someone slams me up against another wall.”

“What?” Bucky retorts, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and cheeks slowly turning red at your poor choice of words. You pay him no mind and begin your trek towards the exit, though your stomach flips at the mere thought of having him cage you in against a wall and having you at his complete mercy. You shudder and try to shake the thoughts away, but it’s hard to do so when the man in question is right beside you matching your brisk pace.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes scanning your figure for any sign of injuries.

“Definitely going to have a bruise in the morning, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you note with an easygoing smile.

“I’m on dinner duty tonight,” Bucky notes thoughtfully before kicking down the doors and clearing your path to the outside. “You interested in lending a hand?”

“Oh, definitely. You and Steve can’t be trusted with dinner anymore after the last time.”

“I’ll have you know tuna casserole was a popular dish back in my day,” he retorts defensively only to make you laugh instead.

“Okay, grandpa, whatever you say,” you giggle much to his annoyance. He retaliates by playfully nudging your side with his elbow so that you stumble away, but he can’t hide the amused smile on his face at your antics.

“It’s about time,” Tony retorts impatiently after you two finally make it to the Quinjet. “I’d appreciate some sense of urgency, you know.”

“You said be back in five minutes, it’s only been three,” you reply defensively only to earn an eye roll from the man.

“You and Barnes can flirt with each other on your own time,” he quips to your dismay. You immediately feel yourself heat with embarrassment and do everything your power to avoid looking at Bucky who shifts uncomfortably beside you.

“We weren’t-“ Bucky starts to say only for Tony to interrupt.

“I don’t need the details, I just need both of your butts on the quinjet now.”

You’re mortified as you step foot inside where the rest of the team sits waiting. All eyes land on you and Bucky, and you try to ignore their gazes as you take your seat beside Wanda.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she whispers after leaning in closer to you, “his thoughts about you are loud, too.”

You swallow nervously and chance at a peek at the super soldier only to find he’s already looking right at you. You immediately turn your gaze towards the floor before sinking down sullenly into your seat.

It’s going to be a long flight home.

~~~

The tower is silent when you make your way to the living room in search of a distraction from the terrible nightmare you’d just endured. Your body still trembles with unease despite the blanket you have wrapped tightly around your figure, and it was times like these where you heavily contemplated begging Wanda to use her powers on you despite her reluctance to manipulate your mind.

There isn’t anything good playing this late on TV, but you don’t mind watching reruns of old sitcoms if it means you don’t have to sit in silence. You fixate your gaze on the screen, but you’re hardly paying any mind to your surroundings as you simply begin to dissociate. No one knows about the night terrors or the bad dreams that plague you after missions; you fear coming off as weak or unprepared for the life of an Avenger by telling any of your teammates about your dilemma, so you’ve learned to deal with it on your own by escaping through trivial distractions.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t detect the presence of someone else in the room until a hand rests on your bare shoulder. You jump, obviously startled as your wide eyes look to the perpetrator sitting beside you. Bucky immediately yanks his hand back and raises his hands in surrender, his features apologetic at having startled you.

“Sorry, sorry,” he immediately says. “I tried calling your name first but you weren’t exactly responding. You okay?”

“Yeah, I um- sorry,” you utter with a soft shake of your head before swallowing, “I just got lost in thought I guess.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

You normally would have insisted you were fine and tried to change the topic, but there was something about the gentleness in his eyes and the comfort his presence brought you that made it easier for you to open yourself up. You sigh, shifting in place so that you’re facing him now. He offers you a an encouraging smile and already you can feel yourself melting.

“Sometimes I have night terrors,” you confess quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it out loud. “They usually tend show up after a mission or an intense fight. When they happen I just come out here and watch some TV until my brain shuts up enough for me to get some sleep. Pathetic, huh?”

Despite the humorless laugh you let out, Bucky frowns before uttering, “I don’t think that’s pathetic at all. I get it. This job is tough, and sometimes you see things you can’t unsee no matter how hard you try. Don’t beat yourself up for having a normal human reaction to trauma.”

“You sound just like a therapist,” you tease, prompting him to let out a sheepish laugh in return.

“I may have picked up a thing or two in therapy myself,” he admits. A beat passes before he takes your hand in his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Just know that if you ever need help chasing the nightmares away, I’m right here.”

Your heart pounds in your chest while the warmth of his hold encompasses your hand and spreads throughout your entire body. His eyes are full of sincerity, but you also detect something that you’ve never seen from him before. This look is different than the ones he normally gives you, more intimate, and you find yourself nervously biting the inside of your cheek while trying to decipher what it could be.

“Thank you,” you finally voice with a tired smile. Wanting to lighten the mood, you ask, “How come you’re up this late, anyway?”

“Made the mistake of having a cup of coffee after dinner,” he confesses with an embarrassed chuckle. “You mind if I keep you company?”

“Of course not, silly,” you retort as if it’s the most absurd question you’ve ever heard.

You and Bucky settle into a comfortable silence as you tune in to the sitcom playing on the TV screen. A sense of calm has washed over your body now that you’re no longer being tormented by the remnants of your nightmare, but there’s still a part of you that remains nervous around the man you secretly harbor feelings for. You find your mind drifting back to what Wanda had said you earlier and wonder if there was any truth to her words. What did she mean by it?

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky prompts after the episode ends.

“Anything,” you reassure him, grabbing the remote to lower the television’s volume so that he can have your undivided attention.

“I know it’s just your way of poking fun at me, but when you call me ‘grandpa’ or ‘old man,’ is that… that’s not how you see me, is it? Old?”

You’re honestly taken back by his comment, not expecting him to have thought this heavily into the subject. Of course you knew the man was out of his time, and if he had been given the chance to age naturally you most likely would not be sitting here on this couch with him, but you had never thought less of him because of the fact.

“No, of course not! Honestly sometimes I forget you’re technically 106.”

Bucky lets out a chuckle at that, but there’s still doubt lingering on his features as he self-consciously looks down at his hands in his lap. “I just see you with Peter and Wanda sometimes and wonder if I’m too old for you to be hanging around with.”

You shift closer to Bucky so that you can rest a comforting hand on his bicep, prompting him to lift his head and meet your softhearted gaze. Your entire being emanates warmth and tenderness, and it draws the soldier right in to you. You have no idea the effect you have on him or the way a single brush of your fingertips against his skin can satiate the yearning he feels every time he looks at you. Wanda had been telling you the truth; his thoughts are always loud when you’re around him.

“I guess sometimes it’s easier to connect with them considering we’re closer in age, but I like that you and I are so different because of it. I think there’s more to learn with you and more to appreciate. I genuinely enjoy any minute that’s spent with you,” you confess adamantly, prompting the corner of his lips to quirk up. “Besides, it’s going to take a lot more than a number to scare me away from you.”

Bucky only responds by wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling you into a long awaited hug. You try to stifle your gasp of surprise at suddenly being so close to him, and you hope he doesn’t pick up on the fact that your heart is nearly beating out of your ribcage. You feel his lips press to the top of your head and swear you must be dreaming this because there’s no way the Avenger you’ve pining after for months is now so boldly giving you his affection.

“How about we go away for a weekend?” He finally says after holding you in silence for some time.

“Go away?” You repeat, curiously peeking up at him.

“Leave New York, explore somewhere new,” Bucky reiterates, his features relaxed as he looks down upon you with an adoring gaze. “Be regular people for a few days.”

“I’d like that,” you profess quietly, sighing in contentment when the man pulls you against his chest once more before settling back against the couch. You can feel your eyelids already starting to become heavy, and the soothing circles he rubs into your back doesn’t help. You don’t want this moment with Bucky to end, but you also know that there’s so much to look forward to.

“Bucky?” You hum quietly after allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Yes, doll?”

“When we go away for the weekend, can we be regular people in a relationship?”

You feel his body gently shake from the quiet laugh he lets out at your response. You feel his lips press to your forehead as you drift to sleep, missing his answer when he replies, “I’d want nothing more.”

~~~

You slept through the rest of the night without issue; Bucky’s comforting presence was enough to lull you into a peaceful rest, and you entrusted him to chase away the nightmares for you. The two of you remained entangled together on the couch all the way until sunrise, and neither of you had bothered to consider the repercussions of your actions in the morning.

“I feel bad waking them,” Steve sighs, arms crossed over his chest as he and Natasha look down on your sleeping forms. There’s an almost proud smile on his face as he takes in the sight of his best friend holding the woman of his dreams in his arms.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let them sleep a little longer,” Natasha notes with a knowing smile before promptly ushering the blond out of the entertainment room. Unbeknownst to either of you, by the time you wake up you’ll be the talk of the tower.

“So how much do you owe Wanda?” Steve asks after quietly shutting the door behind him. Natasha lets out a disappointed sigh.

“I’m out twenty bucks. I bet it would take at least another week before they finally got their heads out of their asses and confessed. But I guess as long as they’re happy…”

“That’s all that matters,” Steve finishes for her with a nod.

The team is happy they’ll no longer have to endure your obvious pining over each other, and they make sure to tell you so when you finally wake up.

It’s an eventful morning to say the least.

[maskedbyghost]

jealous!Simon is on my mind 24/7

even better if the two of you are secretly fucking bc he is scared of feelings, commitment, relationships, and blah blah blah…

and simon wasn’t used to feeling jealous. he had trained his emotions out of him long ago, or so he thought. but as he stood in the doorway, watching you stroll across the shared kitchen on the base, your back turned to him, the name "mactavish" boldly displayed on the long-sleeved shirt you wore, something twisted in his chest.

the sight of you wearing his shirt, so casually, stung in a way simon hadn’t expected. he cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. "that’s johnny’s shirt."

"i know." was the only thing you said, smirking since he couldn't see your face. you knew exactly what you were doing, but in that moment, you didn’t care.

"why is johnny's shirt on you?" simon asked, his voice low but tight with tension. he tried to keep his tone neutral, but the undercurrent of jealousy and frustration was hard to hide. seeing you in johnny’s shirt stirred something uncomfortable deep inside him, a mix of possessiveness and insecurity that he wasn't used to feeling. he hated how something so simple made his chest tighten, how the sight of you in someone else’s name made him feel like he was losing control of the one thing he was afraid to admit he cared about.

"oh, he gave it to me because i was cold," you said, pouting slightly as you turned around to face the only man you ever wanted "he is such a nice guy."

simon managed a slight nod, his mind blanking from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. everything felt too much, too fast. meanwhile, you casually turned your back to him again, giving him another clear view of soap's name stretched across your shoulders as you began making your tea. the tiny grumble that escaped simon’s lips didn’t go unnoticed—it sent a wave of satisfaction through you, a small victory that made your day. you loved torturing him. and, after all, he did deserved it.

frustrated, he walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass of water, hoping it would cool the fire raging inside. but as he turned, his grip slipped, and the water splashed across your front. simon froze, watching the water drip down your shirt, half-shocked and half-relieved for the excuse to make the shirt disappear.

simon froze, his eyes glued to the water dripping down your shirt. after a beat of silence, he muttered, "well, guess you’ll need to take that off now. what a shame."

shocked, you watched as he put the glass down and left the room, still feeling the cold water seeping through the fabric. did he seriously just accidentally splash you and then walk out like nothing happened? that bitch.

*

later, as you slept in your bed, wearing your shirt this time, you stirred slightly at the feeling of someone’s arms wrapping around you. you didn’t even need to open your eyes or turn around—you already knew who it was. that familiar warmth could only belong to simon.

"simon?" you muttered groggily, barely able to make out the shape of him in the dim light. "what are you doing here?"

"shh, just sleep, pretty girl," he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. "i just wanted to apologize for how i acted earlier."

"i'm listening," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper.

simon’s arms tightened around you as he spoke. “i’m sorry for earlier. i know i’ve been pushin' you away and acting like an idiot. seein' you in johnny’s shirt... it just brought out this jealousy i didn’t want to admit i had. i hate feelin' like i’m not enough, or that someone else might have a piece of you. the truth is, i want you to be only mine. i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i just wanted you to know that, even if i messed everythin' up.”

“well, isn’t this a surprise? i didn’t realize it took me wearing johnny's shirt for you to admit your feelings.” you said with a hint of a smile, turning around to kiss him softly. simon sighed into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of relief and affection.

simon pulled back slightly, his eyes intense as he rested his forehead on yours “i mean it, you know. you’re mine—only mine. no one else gets to touch what’s mine.” his voice was firm, yet tender, which made his words more meaningful.

"did you have a similar conversation with soap?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

simon grinned, leaning in even closer. “yep, told him to keep his wardrobe to himself unless he wanted a 'property of simon' label slapped on everything he owns.” he sealed his words with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips tenderly brushing against yours as if to mark his claim in the most intimate way.

*

soap: so, i guess it worked?

y/n: your shirt got wet, but i got what i wanted. thanks, bestie.  

soap: i think i got worse treatment from simon than the shirt did, but anything for my two lovebirds.

[cutiefulism]

i’m a dog, i’m a mutt ▼⁠・⁠ᴥ⁠・⁠▼ caleb , lads

✦ ~ 1.1k wc, german shepard!caleb x reader, fluff, caleb n reader both being a little crazy abt each other, this wasnt meant to be so long (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) but possible smutty pt2?????

you don't even get one shoe on your foot before you hear the familiar, false lightness of caleb’s voice from behind you, irritation brewing just below the surface.

“where ya goin’?”

a sigh blows past your lips. you've been trying to find a cure for caleb’s, err. . problem for the past three days, and each time you attempt to leave the house, he's there to reel you back in with a pout and a grumble, big, dark ears flat against his skull.

sometimes, when you're really stubborn, he just drags you towards him with his evol, locking you in his big arms where you are meant to be and shoving his face against yours.

his hearing has gotten aggravatingly good.

you slowly turn to face him, giving yourself a few extra seconds to smooth the guilty wince from your face. “caleb, you know you can't leave the house like this. won't it be awkward to explain to your subordinates that you now have fluffy ears and a fluffier tail?”

the strict, cold colonel of the farspace fleet turned adorable, helpless puppy. what a headline.

his head cocks to the side. “they won't say anything.”

they know better than to say anything. just because he's soft with you doesn't mean that same kindness extends to everyone else. you've witnessed it first hand, and, honestly?

it's a little hot.

maybe you're just a freak, but it's nice to have that warm, gentle bit of caleb reserved just for you. no one else gets to taint it. not that you'd let that happen, anyway.

“that's. .” you bite your lip. “that's true, but that's not the entire point. this,” you gesture to him with a toss of your hand, and his brows furrow, “whatever it is that's happened to you, clearly has other side effects. you literally barked the other day.”

gotcha.

that makes caleb stiffen, his eyes locked on you as heat tints his cheeks pink, and you can't help a cheeky grin. his bark was pretty cute — a deep, firm, sharp noise that was directed to the poor guy who delivered y'all's pizza.

“that was an accident,” he says with a cough. “a-and only a one time thing.”

you kiss your teeth, still grinning, and he doesn't even let those words that he just knows will be teasing get out. “i’m serious! you see i haven't barked or growled since, right?”

he's had to actively resist the urge to, but you don't need to know that.

in a few short strides, he crosses the small distance between you, his arms looping around your waist and tugging you to his chest, big tail happily swishing behind him. it might be a bit harder for him to hide his emotions thanks to this transformation, but it's not impossible.

nothing is impossible.

well, besides him not loving you. that's very much so impossible.

“c'moooon,” he whines, and you damn your stupidly weak resolve right now. he shouldn't look so. . cute.

big, violet eyes peer down at you, plush mauve lips pulled down into a gentle pout, and his dark brows are practically knitted together.

to be quite frank, caleb looks pathetic.

but both he and you know that you like pathetic.

“i’ll be fine. you can trust me. always.”

you hum, and that mischievous grin melts into something more contemplative. “‘s not that i don't trust you, it's just. .”

“just what?” a pause, and then that wet puppy look is gone from his face, his signature smirk taking its place. “oh. ohhhhh. you don't want anyone else to see me like this. that's what this is about.”

. . .

“what?” your jaw goes slack, something like embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck, and caleb can just see the idea worming its way into your vulnerable little mind and taking root.

perfect.

you shake your head, and he only chuckles. “that's not true! i just don't want people bothering you in public! wouldn't you be annoyed if people kept coming up to you, asking to stroke your tail or scritch your ears?”

you're so obvious, it's both infuriating and adorable.

infuriating because — despite him informing you numerous times that he knows you better than anyone, even better than you know yourself — you still continue to hide things from him.

adorable because you look so pretty and lively all fired up, like a firecracker in the dead of a summer night.

“no, no. you're the only one who would be annoyed,” he says, and his hand travels up to gently pinch your cheek. “what have i told you about lyin’, pipsqueak?”

you groan and shove his hand away, but the burning in your face tells him all he needs to know. “i’m not lying!”

caleb’s hand simply moves to your thighs, and then he's hoisting you up with a grunt, thick arm situated underneath your ass. “you sure? your voice is gettin’ all squeaky. if i remember correctly, that's a definite sign you're lying.”

the smell of your perfume graces his nose, and he can't help but let out a tiny, content sigh. you smell so good — mostly your perfume, probably some gourmand scent, with just a hint of his own musk and soap. he'd prefer you smell a lot more like him, but that'll come in due time.

he's waited for years to have you — it won't hurt for him to wait some more.

your arms, like they have a mind of their own, hook around caleb’s neck, despite the almost petulant frown on your face. “i’m not a little kid anymore. and even if i was lying, which i’m not, that wouldn't be a tell!”

he snorts. “i think you're overestimating how much you've changed. you still act like the little girl who'd come crying to her gege because someone knocked over your sandcastle.”

your gaze narrows into sharp daggers. “and you still act like some flirtatious know-it-all!”

at that, caleb shifts you closer, rubbing his face into your neck with a soft smile. a flirtatious know-it-all, huh?

oddly enough, he's never flirted with anyone but you.

his lips press a soft, almost reverent kiss on your pulse. “for you to be so smart, you sure can be dense, can't ya?” he mutters, and his voice is swallowed up by your skin.

caleb would never betray you like that. no, you're all he wants, all he needs. no other girl will fill that crevice in his heart, something perfectly carved in the shape of you.

he pulls his face back, and his soft eyes meet your angry ones. cute. “i’ll be your flirtatious know-it-all for the evening, how ‘bout that?” and when you only continue to glare at him, he sweetens the deal.

“i’ll even let you touch my ears.” as if on cue, they twitch, looking fluffier and softer than ever.

. . hm. that antidote can wait a little longer, can't it?

sweats.

[no-144444]

sweating- o.piastri

summary: oscar has been acting strange

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Brown! reader

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Zak had been worried about Oscar for a while. The far-off looks in meetings, the silence at dinners, the constant stares he was getting, all of it. He’d even been so worried, that he came to you, and you’d told him that Oscar had been just fine at home, so it must be something to do with work. 

It was a strange thing, to be dating your boss’s daughter. Oscar had in fact fallen for you within seconds of meeting you back in 2022, his first visit to MTC, before everything else happened. You, a legal trainee on the McLaren legal team, was the one running him through his contract, and he was very thankful that his lawyer was there to ask questions, because he was just focused on you. As he joined the team, you two got closer. About half way through his rookie season, he finally plucked up the courage to ask you out, and you had said yes. What ensued was a few months of sneaking around until you finally told your dad, who supported you two, but from afar. He liked Oscar, would he have preferred you pick someone that wasn’t his driver, yes, very much so, but he didn’t have a say in your life. You were an adult and if you wanted to go get your heart broken by an F1 driver, that was up to you. The one thing Zak hadn’t accounted for was the fact that Oscar was a sweetheart who was genuinely head over heels for you. He saw it when you were in the paddock, how Oscar smiled a little brighter, how he made you a priority all weekend, how he performed better. 

So what the fuck was going on with Oscar now? 

Zak was worried that he was planning on breaking up with you, or maybe he was just going through some mental roadblocks at work, so he called him into his office. 

Oscar awkwardly took a seat across from him, waiting to be addressed. 

“Are you alright, Osc? You seem a bit… off lately,” Zak asked, nothing but concern in his voice. 

Oscar shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, but even he knew it sounded wrong. This is really not how he wanted this to go. He was insured of Zak’s worry by the way his brows furrowed. “You can talk to me kid, you know that right? If it’s about Y/n or-”

“It’s not about Y/n,” Oscar assured him. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Oscar, talk to me, I’m here for you. If you’re going through something-”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask for your blessing!” he admitted, speaking far too loud and far too fast. Oscar looked up to see Zak’s face blank, his jaw slightly dropped. “I’m so sorry-”

“You have it,” he said. Now it was Oscar’s jaw that dropped. “Of course you have it,” Zak’s lips turned into a smile. “She adores you. You clearly adore her. I love you, my wife loves you, my sons love you. Of course you have my blessing.”

He took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you,” he chuckled. “God, I was terrified.”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Oscar shrugged. “Maybe?” 

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Zak was very happy when he woke up to a call from the two of you, engaged, a few weeks later.

oscarpiastri

liked by pierregasly, zbrownceo, landonorris and 348,928 others

oscarpiastri: awesome season, can't wait to marry this girl though :)

comments

landonorris: OMFG YALL ARE YOUNGER THAN ME PLZ SLOW DOWN -> oscarpiastri: no more papaya rules 🤷

pierregalsy: too young -> kikagomez: bitch -> user92: lmao he's never said that before

zbrownceo: Congrats guys! Can't wait to walk you down the aisle!

charlesleclerc: MY SON IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!! -> oscarpiastri: thank you adoptive father :)

user93: god she is GLOWING

user12: these are the cutest photos ever!!!!!!!

user8: THE RINGGGGG

lilymunihe: OMG I'M SO EXCITED!!!! ->youruser: OMG LOVE YOUUUUU

user98: they're so in love it's actually sickening

logansargeant: no ring picking creds? -> oscarpiastri: I don't think grimacing at every ring I chose was very helpful -> hattiepiastri: nah, but it was funny

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)