#when she was like “no we’re NOT!” and shot at him

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 22

Bucky x reader AU

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: SMUTTTTTTTTTT

A/N: Okay so look I don't normally write smut. I've never done it before this is as good as it's gonna get. I apologize in advance xoxoxoxox 🫶🏻💅

The door to the apartment slammed shut with a force that rattled the frame. Sam, who was lounging on the couch with a beer in hand, turned his head fast, eyebrows raised.

“Whoa, buddy, easy there. We’ve got neighbors,” Sam joked, trying to lighten the tension.

Steve stood by the door, his hands on his hips, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. He muttered, “Sorry,” before running a hand through his hair and stepping into the living room.

Sam sat up straighter, instantly on alert. “Okay… what happened? You look like you’ve just been through the wringer.”

Steve exhaled sharply, moving to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He twisted the cap off and leaned against the counter, taking a long sip before answering. “I ran into her.”

Sam blinked, caught off guard. “Her? You mean Y/N?”

Steve nodded, his jaw tightening. “Yeah.”

Sam frowned, setting his beer on the coffee table. “And?”

“And apparently Natasha asked her for space,” Steve said, his tone heavy with frustration.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Nat? Why?”

Steve’s laugh was humorless as he pushed off the counter and paced the room. “Because of me.”

Sam leaned forward, now completely invested. “What do you mean because of you?”

Steve stopped pacing, raking a hand through his hair again. “Y/N told me that Natasha’s in love with me.”

Sam choked on his beer mid-sip, coughing violently as he tried to recover. “I’m sorry, what?”

Steve’s expression was grim. “Apparently, Nat’s been in love with me for years.”

Sam blinked rapidly, trying to process. “I mean… I always noticed the looks, but I didn’t know it was like that.”

Steve froze, narrowing his eyes at Sam. “What looks?”

Sam raised his hands defensively. “The longing looks, man. Nat’s good at hiding her feelings, but every once in a while, when you’re looking at Y/N, Nat’s looking at you like…” He trailed off, shrugging. “Like she wishes you’d look at her that way.”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line as he grabbed a chair and sank into it, cracking open the beer. He took another sip before saying, “That’s not all.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up again. “Oh, God, what else? I swear this shits gonna be the death of me.”

Steve stared at the table, his voice low. “I told her.. she shouldn’t be with Bucky. That she should be with me.”

This time, Sam didn’t just choke—he spit out his beer entirely, coughing and spluttering. “You said what?! Steven I—”

Steve ignored him, cutting him off, his words tumbling out in a flood. “I couldn’t hold it in, Sam. Seeing her with him, hearing about how they’re just together now like it was always meant to be—because apparently it is, but it’s just killing me. And I said it. I told her she should be with me.”

Sam stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

Steve sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “And then she said…” His voice wavered slightly. “She said we’re all leaving her. Nat, me, and apparently you.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Sam shifted uncomfortably, his beer suddenly less appealing.

Steve’s sharp gaze locked onto him. “What did she mean by that, Sam?”

Sam hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the beer bottle. “I was gonna talk to you tonight,” he admitted.

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Talk to me about what?”

Sam let out a breath, leaning back into the couch. “I got a promotion at work.”

Steve’s eyes lit up briefly with surprise. “That’s great, man. Holy shit, congratulations!”

Sam gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Thanks. But, uh… the thing is, it’s across the country, to Washington to be exact, I’ll be moving in two weeks.”

Steve’s face fell, and he let out a quiet, “Shit.”

Sam nodded, the weight of the confession heavy in the room. “Yeah. I didn’t want to drop this on you all at once, but I guess it’s as good a time as any.”

Steve stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m proud of you, Sam. Really. You deserve this. But damn…” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Looks like I’ll need to move.”

Sam chuckled softly. “Yeah, sorry about that. Maybe at the next farmers market Nat will buy you the rest of the farm ceramics you can move em into my room, start charging rent..”

Steve snorted, though the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their respective issues hanging in the air.

Finally, Sam broke the silence. “So… what are you gonna do about Natasha?”

Steve looked down at his beer, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not even sure I’m in the right headspace to do anything about it.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Fair enough. But you know she deserves better than waiting around for you to figure it out, right?”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know,” he said quietly.

“And what about Y/N? What are you gonna do about what you said to her?”

Steve sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. She probably told Bucky by now, and I’m sure he’s ready to kill me.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you really stepped in it this time, man.”

Steve shot him a look. “Thanks for the support.”

Sam shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Hey, I’m just saying what we’re both thinking. You’re gonna have to figure this out, Steve. Because right now? It’s a mess.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

They both sat there in silence again, the enormity of everything weighing heavily on them. Sam finally clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Look, no matter how much of a shitshow this is, it won't be like this forever man, its us, all of us.”

Steve gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Sam said, leaning back. “You’ve got some serious damage control to do first.”

As the weight of the conversation hung in the air, Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand over his face before shooting Steve a mock-serious look.

“Y’know, I can’t leave in good conscience if all my children aren’t okay,” he said, gesturing broadly as if addressing a group.

Steve frowned, confused. “Your children?”

Sam smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Yeah, my children. You, Y/N, Bucky, Nat, Wanda—this whole dysfunctional friend group minus Wanda actually, shes just a saint, hallelujah! But you’re all like my unruly little kids, and I need you to get your shit together before I move halfway across the country. Otherwise, I’m gonna feel guilty as hell.”

Steve snorted, but there was a faint glimmer of a smile at the corner of his lips. “We’re not your kids, Sam.”

“Oh, really?” Sam raised an eyebrow, sitting up straighter. “Who’s the one everyone comes crying to when things go south? Who’s the one playing mediator when y’all start tearing each other apart? Me. I’m the glue holding this chaos together, Rogers.”

Steve let out a soft laugh despite himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize we put you through so much, Dad.”

“Damn right,” Sam said with a mock scowl. “You’re lucky I’m so patient. Now, can we please work on fixing this mess before I have to catch a plane? I’ve got enough to worry about without you and Natasha staring at each other from across the room like you’re in a sad indie film.”

Steve sighed, leaning back into the couch and swirling his beer. “I’ll figure it out, Sam.”

Sam gave him a look. “You better. ‘Cause I’m not above locking you and everyone in a room together and waiting it out.”

Steve laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

“And you love me for it,” Sam quipped, standing up and clinking his beer against Steve’s. “Now, get your ass in gear, Rogers. Fix it with the fam. And maybe don’t confess your love to someone who’s already taken next time.”

Steve winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, message received.”

Sam smirked. “Good. Now, can we chill for the rest of the night? Or do I have to keep playing therapist?”

Steve chuckled, clinking his beer against Sam’s again. “No more therapy sessions tonight.”

Sam grinned. “That’s what I thought. Now pass me the pretzels.”

Natasha slammed the door behind her, the sharp sound echoing through the apartment. She tossed her bag onto the floor and leaned back against the doorframe, her hands gripping the strap of her jacket like a lifeline. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes were red, like she was holding back the last thread of control she had.

Wanda poked her head out from the kitchen, her wooden spoon mid-stir in a pot of something fragrant. Her brows furrowed at Natasha’s expression. “Woah, what happened? You look like you’ve just walked out of a war zone.”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, kicking her shoes off aggressively and heading toward the couch. “Might as well have.”

“Okay, uh is this serious?” Wanda abandoned her cooking, setting the spoon down and following Natasha into the living room. She perched on the arm of the couch as Natasha sank into it, her hands immediately rubbing at her temples. “Spill.”

Natasha exhaled sharply, her voice biting. “I snapped at Y/N.”

Wanda blinked, tilting her head. “About what?”

“About Bucky. About Steve. About everything.” Natasha waved a hand, her frustration clear. “She came to me asking for advice on Bucky. Apparently, he lied to her about going out for drinks with Sam, and she just wanted to talk it through. But instead of helping her, I completely lost it.”

Wanda’s face softened with understanding. “What did you say?”

Natasha hesitated, guilt flickering across her face. “I told her she was overthinking it. Being dramatic like always. And then… I told her I needed space.”

Wanda’s mouth fell open slightly, but Natasha wasn’t done.

“And then,” Natasha continued, her voice tightening with self-loathing, “I told her I didn’t understand why Steve was in love with her and not… not me, told her she wasn’t anything special.”

“Oh my god, Natasha…,” Wanda murmured, her tone gentle but disappointed.

“I know, i know…” Natasha said quickly, her voice cracking. “I know how shitty it was. But I couldn’t stop myself. She’s so… happy right now. With Bucky, finally. And I’m standing here, watching her and then watching Steve fall apart while I’m—” She broke off, running her hands through her hair. “I’m stuck. Just stuck.”

Wanda leaned forward, trying to catch Natasha’s gaze. “You’re not stuck, Nat. You’re hurting. But you’ve got to stop projecting that onto her.”

Natasha scoffed bitterly. “She said all she wanted was advice. Advice on Bucky, of all people. And I couldn’t even give her that without making it about me.”

Wanda’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because it is about you, Nat. Not her. You’re angry with Steve for not seeing you the way you want him to. You’re angry with yourself for not saying anything sooner. And yeah, maybe you’re a little angry that she’s happy with Bucky while you’re feeling invisible. But you can’t blame her for any of that.”

Natasha’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “I know, I know, but it feels so unfair, Wanda. Why am I always the one standing on the sidelines? Why does it always feel like I’m waiting for something that’s never going to happen?”

Wanda sighed, sliding off the armrest and sitting next to Natasha. She placed a comforting hand on her friend’s knee. “Nat, you’ve spent so much time watching from the sidelines that you’ve convinced yourself you belong there. But you don’t. You deserve to be in the center of someone’s world, just like she is to Bucky.”

“And what if that someone is Steve?” Natasha whispered, her voice trembling.

Wanda hesitated, her heart aching for her friend. “Then you need to figure out if it’s worth the risk. But Nat… if you want Steve to see you, you have to give him the chance. You can’t keep hiding how you feel.”

Natasha wiped at her eyes angrily. “What if it’s too late? What if he’s too far gone on Y/N?”

Wanda gave her a sad smile. “Steve’s not too far gone, but before anything can happen, he needs to work through his feelings for her. And you… you need to figure out what you really want.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her voice barely audible. “I just don’t want to lose her, Wanda. Or Steve. Or any of you.”

“You won’t,” Wanda assured her. “We’re too close for that. But you’ve got to be honest—with her, with Steve, and most importantly, with yourself.”

Natasha leaned back against the couch, letting out a shuddering breath. “I’ll talk to her. Just… not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Wanda agreed. She stood, patting Natasha on the shoulder. “Come on, babe. I’ve got pasta in the kitchen. Food always helps.”

Natasha let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Pasta sounds good.”

The cabin looked exactly as you remembered it, nestled in the woods with its rustic charm intact. The wooden exterior was weathered but sturdy, and the scent of pine trees and earth filled the crisp air.

Bucky had insisted on carrying your bags, his easy smile making it impossible to argue. Now, as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, you were flooded with memories of your childhood and the countless weekends spent here with the group.

"Home sweet home," Bucky said softly, stepping aside to let you in.

The inside was just as cozy as you remembered - worn furniture, a stone fireplace, and the faint scent of cedar lingering in the air. A fire was already crackling in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering glow across the room.

"You did all this?" you asked, turning to him.

Bucky shrugged, a boyish grin tugging at his lips.

"Figured it'd be nice to have it ready for you."

Your heart swelled as you dropped your coat onto the couch, taking in the space. It felt so intimate now, just the two of you surrounded by memories and the quiet of the woods.

"Bucky," you started, your voice soft, "this is perfect."

His eyes softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You deserve perfect."

After getting all settled, which didnt take long thanks to Bucky already doing everything, the two of you sat by the fire, a bottle of wine on the table between you and an easy warmth filling the room. You couldn't stop smiling, leaning against Bucky's shoulder as you talked about everything and nothing.

"Remember the time Steve got stuck on the roof because Nat dared him to climb up there?" Bucky said, laughing as he rubbed small circles on your shoulder.

You giggled, the memory vivid. "And you were the one who had to help him down. He wouldn't stop screaming about how he was gonna die."

Bucky tilted his head back, laughing. "It was his own fault for taking the dare. Dumb ass."

The sound of his laughter filled the cabin, and you couldn't help but stare at him. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his head tilted slightly, and his hand stayed firmly on you, grounding you in the moment.

"Hey," Bucky said, noticing your gaze. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You bit your lip, a flush creeping up your cheeks.

"Just... how happy I am. I didn't think I would have something like this, especially with you it feels surreal."

Bucky's expression softened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "You and me both, I'm scared I'm going to wake up one day and not have you like this... but loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

Before you could respond, he stood and walked to the fireplace, picking up a small leather-bound book from the mantel. He turned it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the edges as if gathering the courage to part with it.

“What’s that?” you asked, tilting your head, curiosity softening your voice.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to yours, hesitant but filled with something deeper—hope, love, fear. He walked back, sitting down beside you and holding the book out. “It’s for you.”

Your brow furrowed as you reached for it, your fingers brushing against the worn leather. It felt warm from his hands, and across the front, your name was scrawled in his familiar, messy handwriting.

“It’s… letters,” he began, his voice quiet, almost uncertain. “Letters, things, random thoughts or things i just wanted to say to you but never did because I was a coward.”

Your breath caught as you opened the book, the creak of the spine breaking the silence between you. The first page was dated years ago, the ink slightly faded but unmistakably his handwriting.

You began to read aloud:

“Y/N,

Today, I saw you laugh at something Steve said, and it hit me how much I love that sound. I know I'm only 17 but I’d do anything to hear it every day for the rest of my life.”

Your voice broke on the last word, your eyes already filling with tears. You looked up at him, stunned, but he just gave you a small, nervous smile.

You flipped to another random page.

“Y/N,

I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight, but the words caught in my throat. I wish I was braver, wish I could just say it, but what if it changes everything? What if I lose you? I can't lose you.”

Tears spilled freely now as you flipped through the pages, each one a snapshot of Bucky’s heart. The dates led all the way back to your teenage years, to the very beginning of your friendship.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the weight of his words settled over you. “This is….”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. “Is it too much?” he asked softly, his vulnerability laid bare.

You shook your head, setting the book down gently before throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. "No, its everything... its perfect. You're perfect."

His hands settled on your waist, holding you tightly as if afraid you might slip away.

"You've always been everything to me," he murmured against your hair, the words barely audible.

The air shifted, charged with emotion and years of longing finally laid bare. When you pulled back to look at him, his eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world fell away. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in, and your lips met his.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the boundaries of this newfound vulnerability. But it quickly deepened, the years of pent-up emotion pouring out with every touch, every movement.

His hands slipped under your sweater, his calloused palms warm against your skin. The contact made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to pull you closer, his grip firm but careful, as though you were something precious.

"God, I love you," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need and emotion.

Your heart swelled, and vou whispered back, "I love you too."

His forehead rested against yours as his breathing mingled with yours. His eyes searched yours, filled with unspoken questions and promises. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, almost trembling.

"I've never been more sure of anything," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

He smiled then, a soft, genuine smile that made you fall all over again. He kissed you deeply, his hands traveling up your back with a reverence that made your entire body hum.

As he laid you back gently against the couch, his lips never leaving yours, the world outside ceased to exist. His touch was both careful and consuming, his hands exploring every inch of your skin as if committing you to memory. Each touch felt like a declaration, a promise.

"You're everything to me," he whispered, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw. "I want to give you the world."

"You already have," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way down your neck.

When his fingertips trailed down the slope of your breast, a jolt of sensation arced through your body, making your breath catch in the back of your throat. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive at once, and your pulse quickened, pounding a wild rhythm that made your head spin. The featherlight touch sent shivers skittering up your spine, each one a thousand points of sensation that made every inch of you ache with hunger.

His mouth found the peak of one breast, his lips closing around it in a slow, languid kiss. You gasped at the wet heat of his tongue, at the way his lips pulled gently at the sensitive flesh. Your body arched into him instinctively, craving more, demanding it with a want so overwhelming that it eclipsed everything else.

“Bucky,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea. Your hands clutched at his hair, guiding him back up to your mouth where you could devour him in a kiss.

He moved with you, letting you pull him closer, urging you to take what you needed. When he rolled you onto your back, his body settling between your legs, you felt his hardness press against you. You wanted to feel him—his bare skin sliding against yours, the heat of him sinking into your core—but you also didn’t want to let go of the kiss, didn't want this moment of connection to be severed.

He seemed to read your mind because his lips never left yours as he guided your hands down his body. He let you unbutton his jeans, and the sound of his zipper coming undone sent another rush of heat through you. When your fingers found his length, a low groan tore from his throat, vibrating against your lips.

“I want you,” you whispered, the words almost lost in the wetness of the kiss.

His response was immediate—a low growl that bordered on a whimper. “Oh, God, I’ve been waiting so long for this, for you sweetheart” he muttered, his hand slipping between your legs. “You’re so wet for me.”

His words were like fuel to the fire, sparking a hunger so deep and primal within you that it hurt. You pushed against his touch, seeking friction, seeking anything that would give you the release you craved. He understood, his fingers stroking you with a careful precision that made your entire body clench.

You moaned, the word breathless with need. Your hips arched up, moving in tandem with his strokes. The pressure built, like something coiling within you, waiting to burst.

He gave you more, sliding a finger into you, then two, curling them deep as though searching for a sweet spot that would unravel you completely. You gasped when he found it, his gentle strokes hitting it over and over until you were trembling beneath him.

“Bucky, I—” The words died on your lips when he slid a third finger inside you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, his touch, his kiss, the need burning through you, all mixing together until it was impossible to focus on anything but him.

The world tilted, your body shuddering with a wave of sensation, and then you were flying, soaring above everything else as your release hit you like a tidal wave. Your head tipped back, mouth opening on a silent cry, the feeling almost too intense to bear. Every nerve ending in your body seemed to crackle with electricity, the pleasure like a thousand bolts of lightning exploding within you.

When you came back down from the high of your orgasm, Bucky was kissing your neck, his breath warm against your skin. He looked up at you, his blue eyes shining with a softness you’d never seen before, and the sight made your chest hurt.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Always. Forever.”

Your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him into another kiss. “I love you too,” you murmured against his lips. “So much Buck”

He smiled at you, and there was so much affection and adoration in his eyes that it threatened to overwhelm you all over again.

You reached for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he settled between your thighs. He slid into you slowly, filling you, stretching you until you were full with the length of him. It wasn’t enough, though. You needed more—needed his breath to mingle with yours, needed his skin to be flush against yours.

When he pulled out, you whimpered in protest, but he just smiled down at you, a gentle smile that made your heart swell with emotion. He grasped your hips, pulling you into a sitting position as he settled onto his back. The movement brought him deeper within you, and the sensation was so overwhelming that you had to catch your breath.

“I want you on me,” Bucky whispered, his eyes holding yours as he lifted you, helping you find a rhythm that left you both breathless. “I want to see you.”

You started to move “Baby,” Bucky moaned, his eyes locked onto your body moving above him. “Oh, fuck.”

The words were guttural, filled with so much emotion that it threatened to overwhelm everything else. You could feel him throbbing within you, his length swelling, stretching you further than you thought possible. The feeling was almost too much to handle, yet at the same time, it wasn’t enough.

“Harder,” you gasped, your voice barely audible over your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your fingers found Bucky’s, linking with them as his hips began to move faster beneath yours. “Deeper. Please.”

He groaned at your words, the sound dark and edged with desperation. “I’m close,” he warned, but you could tell he wanted to wait, wanted to ensure you reached your orgasm first.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his ear. “Come with me,” you urged, your words a soft whisper that turned into a moan when he hit your sweet spot again. The feeling was so intense you felt yourself begin to unravel, pleasure flooding you until it seemed to spill over.

“Yes,” Bucky muttered, the word a dark growl, his hips bucking up hard as his length thickened, pulsing with an imminent release. “Oh, fuck..”

Your body tensed at the same time as his, the pleasure cresting until it seemed impossible to hold back the orgasm any longer. It hit you like a wave, pulling you under with such force that you were powerless to do anything but let it consume you.

Bucky’s mouth found yours, muffling your cries of pleasure as he began to come. You could feel him throbbing within you, warm heat spilling into you, filling you until the sensation was almost too overwhelming to bear.

Time seemed to stretch and compress all at once, the only sound was your ragged breathing, and his quiet grunts of pleasure as his body emptied into yours. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, making your lungs feel tight with the sheer force of the feeling.

Finally, your high began to ebb, leaving you both breathless and boneless, bodies trembling as though the pleasure had taken every ounce of strength you possessed. Bucky’s arms found their way around you, holding you close as though trying to absorb you into himself. When you looked up, his eyes were gazing back at you, filled with an emotion that stole whatever breath you had left in your lungs.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice a soft sound that seemed lost amidst the pounding of your heartbeat.

His smile was slow to form, but when it did, it lit up his whole face. His lips brushed over yours, the kiss warm and lingering. “Mine.”

“Yours.” You pressed one last kiss to his mouth, your lips lingering on the word.

[amuseoffyre]

Fyre's convention adventures - Day 2 - Photographs!

Day 2 and 3 are a lot, so I’ll be breaking them up into component parts, especially since I know I have a tendency to babble a lot :D

The first session in the morning was for the photos and since I’d made previous inquiries about whether I could have piccies taken with the crew and the muppets, they knew I was coming with the squad and an assistant to help :D I borrowed the commissioned Ed so I could have him in the shots as well. I’d also redressed Stede because I knew Rhys loved being mer-Stede so I made a tail for muppet Stede for the shoot.

And because it was anticipated chaos, I got there early and they arranged for my group photo to be done first so I could vacate the premises as quickly as possible. I’d warned Vico the night before and when they saw me coming, Nathan said “oh god, we’re doing this!” :D Muppet distribution happened as fast as I could to try not to take too much of the queues time.

Each muppet was armed with a control rod for gesturing and moving one of the hands. Con realised Izzy’s hand was a) poseable and b) posed in flipping the bird mode and dashed off to start flipping people off. Vico was pointing at everyone with Jim’s hand too like Oprah doing her car hand-out.

I’d had vague ideas about an ‘adoration of the magi’ framing around Kristian with Calypso and Stede as a mer-angel overhead, but of course, critical error – leaving Con and Nathan unsupervised, resulting in a glorious array of chaos.

It was so ridiculous and joyful and unhinged :D In other other shots, I was laughing myself silly off to the side. They all got so into it and the expressions are gold. I was so ecstatic to realise StarFury made multiple photos of these giant dorks available for me, especially the Attack of the Killer Izzy one.

I gathered all of the squad back into bags and the last to be liberated was my mer-Stede because Rhys was having a good look at him, gently touching the tail and scales I’d scattered on him. I would’ve loved to give merStede to him, but alas, he had asked for no gifts because no space.

Needless to say when I got the initial photo, I was over the moon and this has only escalated since with the other photos that were made available digitally.

And as a last little giddy bit of the shoots, while I was waiting for the group shots, the Con solo shoots were happening and there was a tiny little tot dressed up as Princess Izzy, complete with a sparkly fluffy black princess dress, tiara, sword, black glove and tattoo.

After her shoot with Con, she immediately came over to see merStede and they ended up doing battle :D The giggles when he started gnawing on her fingers were the most precious thing and then she outsmarted him and shoved his tail in his mouth XD

All things considered a very successful photo time :D

[rayaswrittings]

One night, Every feeling

JJ Maybank x Fem!Cameron!Reader

Synopsis: On your birthday, surrounded by the Pogues’ love and chaos, the night takes an unexpected turn for you and JJ. After months of denying your feelings, an evening of dancing, teasing, and vulnerability becomes the tipping point. Caught in the haze of emotion and reckless abandon, you act on what you’ve always felt but were too afraid to admit. A night meant for celebration becomes the one where everything changes—one night filled with every unspoken feeling finally laid bare.

Warning(s): 18+ only! Minors DNI, Mature themes, Language, the whole nine. Also very long! Apologies for mistakes :/

The warm glow of string lights wrapped around Poguelandia, casting golden hues over the small haven as laughter and music echoed from inside. Tonight wasn’t about running from trouble or chasing treasure—it was your birthday, and for once, everything else could wait.

Pope stood in the middle of the Kildare island co, tying the finishing touches on a banner that read Happy Birthday, Trouble. The letters were uneven and slightly crooked, but he stepped back with a satisfied nod. “Perfect.”

“Perfectly lopsided,” Cleo teased from where she was setting up the speaker.

“Hey, it’s got character,” Pope defended, shooting her a mock glare.

“Yeah, yeah, good effort,” Kie chimed in, carrying a tray of mismatched cups to the table. “At least you’re trying.”

Meanwhile, Sarah was kneeling on a chair, carefully balancing as she added an oversized sparkler candle to the homemade cake. “This is gonna look amazing,” she declared.

“Or set the place on fire,” John B muttered, earning himself a swat on the arm.

“Relax,” Sarah said, grinning. “We’ve survived worse.”

JJ, leaning lazily against the doorway with a beer in hand, watched the commotion with a smirk. “You guys are really pulling out all the stops, huh?”

“You say that like you didn’t spend an hour arguing with Pope about the playlist,” Kie shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, music’s important,” JJ said, feigning offense. He held up his beer in a mock toast. “You’re welcome for the vibe, by the way.”

“Sure, JJ. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Cleo said with a laugh, cranking up the music.

As the first notes of a familiar song filled the air, you stepped into the room, taking it all in—the decorations, the cake Cleo and Kie had made you, the way everyone was buzzing with energy.

“There she is!” Sarah cheered, hopping off the chair and rushing over to grab your arm. “Birthday girl, looking beautiful as ever!”

You laughed, letting her pull you further inside. “You guys didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course we did,” Kie said, grinning. “It’s your day.”

“Yeah,” JJ added, his smirk widening. “And you only turn, what, thirty?”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned, shooting him a glare.

“Alright, alright, everyone shut up!” Sarah’s voice rose above the chatter, her hands cupped around her mouth. “It’s toast time!”

You groaned, sinking onto the couch. “Oh, God, no speeches.”

“Too late!” Sarah said, laughing as she grabbed a cup and raised it high.

“To my amazing, stubborn, sometimes infuriating sister, who somehow manages to keep us all in one piece while also causing at least half of the chaos we deal with,” Sarah began, her voice full of warmth and humor.

Everyone laughed, JJ the loudest. “She’s not wrong!”

Sarah rolled her eyes but smiled. “Shut up, JJ. Anyway, we love you, and we’re so glad you’re stuck with us. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” the group echoed, lifting their drinks before clinking cups and taking long sips.

JJ, still leaning against the doorway, tilted his cup toward you with a smirk. “To the only person who can give me a run for my money when it comes to trouble. I’m proud.”

“High praise coming from you, Maybank,” you teased, raising your drink.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied, his tone playful but his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary.

The music shifted to a faster beat, and Sarah grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. “Nope, you’re not sitting this one out. Dance!”

Cleo was already swaying her hips to the rhythm, motioning for Kie to join her. “Come on, girl, birthday rule: you have to dance to at least three songs. Minimum.”

You laughed, letting them drag you to the middle of the room. As the music blared from the speaker, you lost yourself in the beat, spinning and laughing with your friends. Sarah twirled you around dramatically, while Cleo hyped you up with exaggerated cheers.

JJ watched from the edge of the room, a soft smile tugging at his lips as you danced. Pope nudged him. “You’re staring, man.”

“Shut up,” JJ muttered, taking another swig of his beer.

The music thumped through Poguelandia, and Cleo spun you around with a mischievous laugh. “Birthday girl’s got moves!”

Kie cheered, clapping along to the beat. “Yeahhh, I see you!”

Sarah leaned into John B on the couch, smirking as she watched the three of you take over the space near the speaker. “This is the most energy I’ve seen her have all day,” she joked, sipping from her cup.

“Alcohol does wonders,” John B teased back, earning a playful nudge from Sarah.

Meanwhile, JJ still leaned against the table, beer in hand, watching the scene unfold. His eyes lingered on you a beat too long, the way your hips swayed to the music and your head tipped back in laughter.

“Bro, you’re still staring?,” Pope said from beside him, smirking.

JJ didn’t even flinch. “Yeah? And?”

Pope raised his brows. “And maybe you should do something about it instead of looking like your about to combust”

JJ rolled his eyes and drained the rest of his beer. “Combust, my ass. I’m just appreciating the show.”

“Uh-huh,” Pope said, unconvinced. “What’s your excuse gonna be when I go out there and steal her for a dance?” He jokes, obviously knowing he would only ever choose Cleo.

JJ snorted. “Not happening, dude.”

Pope smirked. “Then prove it.”

JJ set his empty bottle on the table with a dramatic thud. “Fine. Watch and learn, Pope.”

Without hesitation, JJ sauntered toward the makeshift dance floor, his cocky grin in full effect. You caught sight of him as he approached, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your heart skip.

“Finally decided to join the fun?” you teased as he stepped in front of you.

“Had to make sure you weren’t stealing the spotlight without me,” JJ shot back, his grin widening.

“Oh, I’m carrying this whole thing,” you joked, twirling in place. “Think you can keep up?”

“Please.” JJ grabbed your hand and spun you again, pulling you closer in one smooth motion. “I am the fun.”

The group cheered from the sidelines, John B letting out a loud whistle. “Yeah, J!”

Kie laughed, clapping. “Told you he’d cave eventually!”

Cleo leaned toward Pope, smirking. “That boy’s whipped.”

JJ ignored them all, his attention completely on you. The two of you fell into a rhythm effortlessly, his movements loose and confident as he guided you through the music.

“You’re not half bad,” you said, breathless from laughing and dancing.

JJ arched a brow. “Not half bad? Babe, I’m stealing the show.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.”

JJ twirled you again, catching you by the waist as you stumbled slightly. His grip lingered, and for a second, the teasing grin on his face softened.

“You’re killing it, though,” he said, his voice lower now, just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

The sudden sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, your breath hitching as his hands steadied you. But before the moment could stretch too long, he stepped back, smirking again. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart raced as you grabbed his hands and pulled him back toward you. “I don’t think you’re allowed to leave the dance floor yet.”

JJ laughed, spinning you one last time as the song ended. “Alright, birthday girl. What’s next? Shots or another dance?”

Before you could answer, Cleo stepped in, dragging you away playfully. “She’s mine now, Maybank. Go take five.”

JJ threw up his hands in mock defeat. “Fine, but don’t wear her out before the next song!”

As he retreated to grab another drink, he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his smirk lingering. Pope shook his head as JJ rejoined him. “You’re so obvious, man.”

JJ grinned, unbothered. “And you’re jealous you don’t have moves like me.”

Pope laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

But JJ wasn’t paying attention. His eyes drifted back to you, still dancing in the middle of the room, and for the first time all night, he let himself wonder if you had any idea what you were doing to him.

"You're gonna wear her out," Sarah teased from the couch, leaning into John B's shoulder.

"She's got this," Cleo said confidently, spinning you around.

JJ leaned back in his chair, watching as you danced with the girls. He tried to play it cool, his arms crossed over his chest, but the way his gaze lingered on you didn't go unnoticed.

"Sooo… are you just gonna sit there all night and stare?" Pope asked, nudging him.

JJ shrugged, not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. "Someone's gotta make sure nobody gets too wild."

"Uh-huh," Pope said, clearly not buying it.

The song shifted again, this time to a bass-heavy beat that had Kie and Cleo moving with even more energy. You caught J's eye for a moment, your lips curving into a small smile, and his breath hitched before he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his drink.

“I can’t watch this shit anymore, bro” Pope muttered under his breath, laughing to himself.

The game of Kings was in full swing after awhile, the table cluttered with empty bottles, cans, and half-finished cups that had somehow become part of the challenge. The air was thick with laughter, loud music, and the intoxicating scent of booze, and the more the night wore on, the more everyone seemed to loosen up.

JJ was sprawled across the floor, his legs tangled in a chair, and his voice already slurring as he cheered for whatever ridiculous thing someone had just done. “Yo, Pope! Keep that up and I’m gonna have to start calling you lazy!’”

Pope, already red-faced from a few too many rounds, laughed back, holding his drink up like a trophy. “Don’t start, Maybank! I’ll show you lazy!”

Meanwhile, Cleo was trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was clear the alcohol was doing its work. She’d attempted to take a shot when it was her turn, but it ended up splashing more on her than in her mouth. “Fuck, man! That’s a waste of good Vodka!” she laughed, wiping her chin.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, your laughter spilling freely with each passing round. JJ’s usual poker face had been replaced by a slightly tipsy, carefree version of himself, and he was absolutely loving it. You could feel the energy between you both shift as the alcohol mixed with the playful tension that had been simmering for days.

“Alright, alright,” Kie said, looking at the cards in her hand with a drunken frown. “I got a two. JJ, you know what that means, right?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, leaning forward with a wicked grin. “Oh, I know exactly what it means. You’re gonna do somethin’ crazy, aren’t you?”

You chuckled as Kie downed her drink in one go. “Your turn now!” she exclaimed, handing the bottle off to JJ with a sly grin.

As the night dragged on, the drinking games only seemed to get more ridiculous. There were shots, dares, and more rounds of Kings than anyone could count. But somehow, in the chaos, you and JJ became the focal point of the night. The two of you kept locking eyes across the room, the teasing glances and flirty remarks becoming a more regular occurrence.

JJ knocked back another drink, his eyes narrowing playfully as he leaned into you. “I think you’re tryin’ to make me jealous with how good you look tonight. Keep it up and you might get yourself in trouble,” he muttered, leaning so close his breath brushed your ear.

You felt the heat of his words, too drunk to care that the whole group could probably hear him. You looked at him with a drunken, teasing smile. “Oh yeah? You think I’m trying to make you jealous? Maybe I just wanna see you do something about it,” you shot back, not missing a beat.

JJ’s eyes widened, but then he laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, now, you’re not gonna get me to fall for that one. I know better.” He took another swig of his drink, leaning back with his arms crossed as if trying to play it cool—but the smile on his face betrayed him.

You scooted a little closer, the alcohol making you bold in ways you never usually were. “You sure? ‘Cause I don’t know if I’m buying it,” you purred, your voice low enough that only he could hear. The entire group was wrapped up in their own chaos, too drunk to notice anything between you and JJ.

Cleo, Kie and Pope were arguing over who could take the next shot the fastest, and John B and Sarah were wrapped up in their own world, holding hands while they giggled over something. The night had turned into one big blur, everyone losing themselves in the party.

But JJ, with his wild eyes, was only focused on you. “You better watch out, you’re gonna have me all over you, and I won’t let you live it down,” he teased, his voice low and confident—yet there was a slight slur to it.

You could feel the air between you both thicken as your proximity grew, and without thinking, you leaned in close enough to feel the warmth of his skin. “I can’t wait,” you whispered, your breath mingling with his.

JJ’s heart raced, and for a moment, he was frozen—his lips slightly parted, his breath shallow. He was too drunk to keep up the bravado. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Kook princess” he muttered with a half-laugh, before taking a long drink from his cup to steady himself.

A round of cheers erupted from the group as they realized it was JJ’s turn again. The game had gone on to become truth or dare, but mostly it was just dares flying around like crazy. Some kissed, some took shots they definitely had to pray on before taking, But he barely heard any of it. His focus was still locked on you.

“Okay, we’ve got a dare for you, JJ,” Pope suddenly interrupted, clearly not noticing the tension brewing between the two of you.

JJ snapped his head toward Pope, visibly trying to pull himself back together. “What’s the dare?”

Pope grinned mischievously. “Alright, I dare you to kiss her. Just a quick one, you know, to keep the night going.”

The entire group erupted in hoots of laughter and cheers, but you and JJ were suddenly hyper-aware of the quiet that had fallen around you two. The dare hung in the air like an undeniable challenge, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and JJ was staring at you, not backing away but not advancing either. The alcohol had loosened your usual restraint, and now it felt like the entire room was holding its breath.

“You sure about that, Pope?” JJ finally said, his voice low, his usual cocky grin replaced with something a little more vulnerable. He was trying to keep it casual, but his voice wavered slightly.

Pope’s grin only widened. “Come on, man. If you don’t do it, kie will.”

Kie and you laughed—The challenge was clear, and suddenly, everything felt too real. The room, the music, the group—everything seemed to disappear as JJ’s face was inches from yours.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the flush creeping up your neck and the way your stomach twisted gave you away. JJ turned his gaze back to you, his usual confidence faltering for a split second.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped closer to you. His grin returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Rules are rules, I guess.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as he stopped just in front of you, the world fading out once more. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides for a moment before one settled lightly on your arm, grounding you.

“You okay with this?” he asked softly, his tone so uncharacteristically gentle that it made your chest tighten.

You nodded, trying to act like your heart wasn’t about to leap out of your chest. “It’s just a dare, right?”

JJ’s lips twitched into a lopsided smirk, though there was a nervous edge to it. "Just a dare," he echoed, though the way his voice dipped made it sound like he was convincing himself.

As he leaned in, the room seemed to hold its collective breath. You could feel the heat of his body as he got closer, his other hand reaching up to gently cup the side of your face. The touch was warm, grounding, but it only made your heart pound harder.

When his lips finally met yours, the teasing atmosphere in the room evaporated entirely. It was meant to be quick, simple, but the moment JJ kissed you, the world narrowed to just the two of you. His lips were soft but firm, his hand tightening slightly on your arm as he lingered, longer than necessary for a dare.

A muffled cheer erupted from somewhere in the background, but neither of you pulled away. The kiss deepened, slow and magnetic, like neither of you could stop. JJ’s free hand brushed against your waist, almost instinctively, and the heat of it made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t explain.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. The room burst into shouts and laughter, but you and JJ stayed frozen for a beat too long, staring at each other. His lips were slightly parted, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher what just happened.

Your chest tightened, your lips still tingling as you tried to collect yourself. JJ took a shaky breath and stepped back, his hand dropping from your arm and face. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze for a moment before glancing back at you.

“Happy now, Pope?” JJ’s voice cracked slightly, and he covered it by grabbing his beer and chugging half of it.

“Oh, we’re thrilled,” Pope replied smugly, raising his drink.

“You two sure took your time with that one,” Kie teased, raising an eyebrow at you both.

“Yeah, definitely longer than the ‘quick one’ we had in mind,” Cleo added with a knowing smirk.

Your face burned, and you quickly grabbed your drink, hoping no one could see how shaken you felt. Across the table, JJ was no better, his ears red as he avoided looking directly at anyone. But every so often, your eyes met, and the tension between you sparked all over again.

“You gonna survive over there, JJ?” John B teased, tossing a bottle cap in his direction.

JJ rolled his eyes, though his smirk had returned, even if it was faint. “I—“

“Okay! Next dare,” Kie announced, clearly trying to keep the game going and cutting JJ off—to which he was very thankful for.

The game carried on, the laughter and teasing filling the space again. But for the rest of the night, you couldn’t stop glancing at JJ—and every time you did, you caught him looking back, his expression unreadable but heavy with something unspoken.

The night was far from over.

——-

The group had shifted to the couch area, most of them completely drunk and sprawled out, as the music continued to pulse in the background. The playful tension from the dare hung between you and JJ like an electric current, the air thick with unspoken words.

You and JJ hadn’t spoken much since the kiss, both of you trying to act as if it hadn’t just happened. But the way your eyes met every now and then, and the way your body seemed to gravitate towards him without thought, was enough to make everyone else notice.

John B, already tipsy and leaning into Sarah, was the first to break the silence. “Okay, okay, we need to start another round of something. Before I close my eyes and never open them” He looked between everyone, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the two of you. “But someone better keep an eye on JJ and the birthday girl. Looks like they’re gonna start their own game soon.” He winked, half-joking, but it didn’t land as lightly as he probably intended.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “Shut up, John B,” you mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, pretending to find something interesting about your drink.

JJ, sitting across from you, caught the blush and grinned. “What, you embarrassed now?” His voice was light, teasing, but the heat in his gaze betrayed his casual tone. He knew exactly what was going on.

“No,” you shot back quickly, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Not embarrassed. Just… I don’t know, maybe your just a bad kisser.” You swirled the drink in your hand, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, maybe… but you know,” JJ started, leaning in closer, his voice low, “Your body says otherwise” He smirked, and there was something in his voice that was far too confident, even for him. “If you want another try, all you have to do is ask”

The words hit like a shot of tequila, and you felt the heat rising in your chest once again. For a moment, you just stared at him, your pulse quickening. “What makes you think I want that?” You were drunk enough to be bold, but the teasing in your tone didn’t match the rapid beat of your heart.

JJ’s smirk softened, his eyes flickering to your lips for the briefest moment before looking away. He leaned back in his seat, glancing at the group, and then back at you, his voice suddenly quieter. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, shrugging, like he was trying to act nonchalant. But there was something in the way he said it, the vulnerability in his voice, that made your breath hitch.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way he looked at you, but you were suddenly drawn to him in a way you hadn’t expected. The playful flirting had turned into something more, something deeper.

Before you could respond, Cleo stood up, raising her cup dramatically. “Okay, okay! Time for some more chaos! Who’s up for another round of… whatever we’re doing?”

The interruption snapped both of you back into the present, but the heat between you didn’t fade. The night was still young, and now, everyone was shouting for another round of drinks.

“Fine,” you muttered under your breath, standing up and turning to grab another drink. “But I’m keeping my distance from Maybank for the next round.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I bet you are,” he teased, but his smile faded as he noticed the slight shift in your attitude. The flirting had stopped, and there was something else there now, something neither of you were ready to deal with.

But before either of you could speak again, Pope and Cleo dragged everyone back into the living room, launching into another round of Kings, laughing and joking as they set everything up.

As the night wore on, the group’s energy shifted. People began winding down, some already half-asleep on the couches, others still caught up in the haze of drunken laughter. You and JJ remained in the same space but kept your distance, the unspoken tension between you both thickening with every passing second.

Eventually, the music died down, and the room grew quieter. John B and Sarah were wrapped up in each other, and Cleo had snuck off to sit by herself, letting the alcohol take its toll. Pope was sitting next to you, chatting about something, but your mind kept wandering back to JJ. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted him until this moment—until that kiss and the lingering feeling it left in its wake.

“Hey,” Pope’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You good?”

You turned your head to look at him, trying to hide the conflicted look on your face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a little too drunk,” you laughed, but there was an edge to your voice that betrayed you.

Pope raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. But just know, JJ’s been acting weird since the kiss. He’s too drunk to admit it—and I’m too drunk to go in depth about it, but he cares about you.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “What are you talking about?” you said quickly, trying to sound casual, but your heart was racing.

Pope shrugged, his eyes softening. “I know JJ. He’s not good at talking about his feelings. Especially when it comes to you.”

Before you could respond, you caught JJ glancing at you from across the room. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed him. It was as if he was trying to keep his distance, but the pull between you both was undeniable.

He quickly turned his attention back to his drink, avoiding eye contact. You could feel the weight of his gaze even from across the room, and for a moment, you wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and pull him close. But you also knew that whatever was happening between you two—this unspoken tension, this flirtation—wasn’t something you were ready to figure out just yet.

The group around you began to fade into the background as you and JJ shared a moment of quiet understanding from across the room. No words were exchanged, but the silence spoke volumes. And just like that, you knew whatever was to come—it wasn’t going to feel good in the morning.

——

As the night stretched on, the weight of the alcohol settled in, and the chaotic energy of the group began to wane. The music faded out, and the laughter that had filled the room softened into sleepy chuckles and half-hearted conversations. The sounds of glasses clinking together became less frequent, replaced by tired yawns and people stretching, making their way to the camp fire outside and blankets that had been carelessly tossed around the circle.

You were sitting closer to the fire, taking in the warmth again your skin, your legs tucked under you as you quietly observed the others. John B and Sarah were curled up together, already half-asleep, with his arm slung around her shoulders. Pope and Cleo, though still conscious, were drifting into a peaceful silence, their eyes barely open as they snuggled into the cushions. Kie had already went inside a few minutes prior, complaining about how she had to be up early tomorrow morning. The only ones still wide-eyed were you and JJ, and despite the heaviness of the night, neither of you seemed ready to let it end just yet.

JJ, sitting across from you, had his elbow resting on his knee, his eyes trained on the fire in front of him. He seemed distant, but his occasional glances toward you didn’t go unnoticed. You caught his eyes again, and this time, instead of looking away, he let them linger.

You let out a quiet breath, unsure how to proceed. “We should probably help clean up,” you murmured, breaking the silence, your words a little slurred from the alcohol.

JJ chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair with a slight tilt of his head. “Eh, we’ll get to it tomorrow. It’s too late for that now. Let them sleep it off. We’ve earned a break.” His voice had a playful tone, but there was something in it, a flicker of something deeper, that caught your attention.

“Yeah, I guess,” you said quietly, nodding, though your eyes were still locked with his.

A few more moments of silence passed, the fire crackling softly, the only sound besides the occasional rustling of blankets as everyone else settled in for the night.

Suddenly, Cleo stood up, stretching and yawning loudly. “Alright, guys,” she said with a teasing grin. “I think it’s time for me to pass out. You know where to find the blankets.” She glanced at you and JJ. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?”

“Trust me, Cleo, we’re just gonna… just chill out,” JJ said, flashing her a grin.

“You two are trouble, you don’t fool me” Cleo called over her shoulder, not looking back as she walked toward the makeshift sleeping area. Pope was already settling beside her, clearly exhausted from the night’s events.

With a small wave, Sarah and John B followed suit. “Goodnight, guys,” Sarah called, already half-asleep as she leaned into John B’s side, and they made their way to the back rooms of the house.

A quiet hush fell over the fire, and the last of the group had all but drifted into the house, leaving you and JJ alone, just the two of you still sitting in the dim glow of the firelight.

JJ was sitting on the edge of a chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he twirled an empty beer bottle in his hands. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes, and there was something about the way he looked at you now—unguarded, raw, like all the walls he’d built around himself had crumbled under the weight of the night.

You sat only a few feet away, mind swaying from the alcohol coursing through your veins, watching him with a mix of amusement and apprehension. He hadn’t said much since the others left, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable; it was charged.

“You know,” you finally broke the quiet, your voice softer than usual, “you have a really bad poker face”

JJ glanced up at you, his brows lifting in amusement. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “And yours is any better, kook princess?”

You smirked at the nickname, taking a step closer. “You act like you don’t care about anything, but you do. A lot. You care about them”—you motioned toward the house—“you care about this place, and, whether you like it or not, you care about me.”

JJ’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and you saw his jaw tighten as he glanced away, back at the bottle in his hands. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Maybe,” you admitted, taking another step closer. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope,” you said with a small smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not when it comes to you.”

That made him look up, his blue eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your breath hitch. The firelight danced in his gaze, but it wasn’t the flames you were focused on—it was the way he was looking at you, like he was trying to decide whether to keep pushing you away or finally let you in.

He stood, starting to diminish the fire in the pit, and for a moment you wondered if you should tell him you didn’t want to go back in the house, the drunken words hanging off your tongue in the moment. JJ on the other hand, had already been walking up to you, dumping his drink with one hand and holding the other one out to you.

“Want some company tonight?” His words make your stomach twist. Of course you did—hell, you’ve been staring at him all night. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or maybe just your overthinking, but the way he looked at you… it made you think so many things. Things you shouldn’t think about with your best friend.

You take your lip between your teeth, trying to hide the blush from your cheeks as you take his soft hand, nodding when you look up at him. You followed him into the shop, stopping to lean against the counter when he let go to put away some of the drinks back in the tiny fridge you had inside. You watched him, so many thoughts running through your head. You knew you wanted JJ… but for some reason—tonight was the night you were finally sick of waiting.

You watch as his muscle flex when he pushes the fridge door shut, making sure its broken latch actually stays. His messy hair is longer than usual, in need of a haircut but it clearly didn’t bother you in this light. Your mind ran wild with thoughts of your nails running across his arms, fingers intertwining with his blond locks. Fucking hell, why did you have to drink so much?

“You alright over there? Don’t tell me your day dreaming about me” his comment tunes you back in, your eyes averting to his and you notice how close he is to you now. Your eyelids were heavy, but your eyes said everything they needed to. You looked at him with passion, a clear and desperate need for him to just grab you and kiss you.

JJ’s smirk faltered slightly when he caught the way you were looking at him. His playful confidence wavered, and for a moment, it seemed like neither of you knew who would make the first move. The tension crackled like the remnants of the fire outside-intense and impossible to ignore.

"What?" he asked, his voice lower now, a nervous edge creeping in.

You shook your head, swallowing hard as you straightened against the counter. "You're just... annoying," you said, trying to say literally anything and sound casual, but your voice betrayed you, soft and breathless.

"Annoying?" he repeated, leaning a hand against the counter beside you, his eyes narrowing. "Funny, 'cause you're the one staring like I'm a damn trophy."

"I wasn't staring," you muttered, cheeks burning.

JJ tilted his head, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin. "Oh, you weren't? Could've fooled me."

You opened your mouth to reply, but he was already moving closer, his chest brushing against yours as his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was so light, so deliberate, that it sent a shiver through you.

"Careful," he murmured, his eyes dipping to your lips. "You're starting to look at me like you want something."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them making your head spin even more than the alcohol already had.

He was so close now, his scent-salt, weed, and a faint trace of cologne-making your heart race.

"And if I do?" you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice.

JJ's jaw tightened, his playful demeanor slipping as his fingers hovered just above your cheek. His gaze flicked between your eyes and lips, and you could see the internal battle raging inside him.

"Don't do that," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

"Do what?"

"Say things like that," he said, his voice rough. "You're gonna make me do something stupid."

You leaned into his touch, your lips parting as your hand moved to rest against his chest. His heart was pounding under your palm, and it gave you the courage to press on.

"Maybe I want you to," you said softly, your voice daring.

JJ let out a low, humorless laugh, his forehead coming to rest against yours. "You have no idea what you're asking for," he said, his voice strained.

"Then show me," you challenged, your lips brushing against his just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck it” He huffs, and it was safe to say you couldn’t imagine the extent of what would happen next.

His restraint shattered in an instant. One of his hands gripped the counter beside you, the other cupping your face as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fiery and desperate, his need for you pouring out in every movement. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed you back against the counter.

It was messy, intoxicating, and everything you'd imagined it would be. His hands roamed your sides, pulling you closer as if he couldn't stand even a breath of space between you.

"Fuck," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "You're gonna kill me."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your forehead still resting against his.

"Maybe that's the point," you said, a small, teasing smile curving your lips.

JJ let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he stared at you like you'd just turned his entire world upside down. His fingers brushed along your jawline, his gaze softening in a way that made your chest tighten.

"We’re so screwed," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, more deliberate.

"Shut up and kiss me, Maybank," you teased, your smile breaking against his lips.

He didn't answer, but the way his hands tightened around you told you everything you needed to know. The tension that had been building between you all night finally melted away, leaving just the two of you and the undeniable pull that neither of you could fight any longer.

JJ’s kisses turned deeper, hungrier, as his hands tightened their hold on your hips, fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you might slip away. He had you backed up against the counter, the edge pressing into your lower back, but the slight discomfort didn't matter. All you could feel was him—his warmth, his need, and the way he was finally letting himself give in.

Your fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, brushing against his skin, and the sound he made against your lips sent a shiver down your spine. JJ broke the kiss, his lips moving to your jaw, then to your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made your head spin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough.

Your breath hitched, your hands roaming up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. "Jayj…" you whisper, your voice soft but slightly shaking from the new sensation.

JJ pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and slightly swollen. "You're dangerous," he said, shaking his head with a crooked grin.

"Me? You're the one who can't keep his hands to himself," you teased, tugging at his shirt.

"Yeah, well, you make it impossible," he shot back, his grin softening into something more genuine.

He pulled you into another kiss, slower this time, but no less intense. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just beneath your shirt, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You arched into him, your hands finding their way into his messy blond hair, pulling him even closer.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, JJ lifted you onto the counter, his hands gripping your thighs as he stepped between them.

The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered, made your chest tighten.

"JJ," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

His name coming from your lips had sounded like a prayer only he was meant to hear. It shifted every gear in his body when he heard it. That breathless, innocent tone of yours. "Fuck. Keep saying it” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with want, his forehead resting against yours.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I want you, Jayj. You have me" you confessed, your voice barely audible.

JJ let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "That’s my girl" he said, his voice carrying an honesty that made your breath catch.

He kissed you again, and this time, it felt different. It wasn't just about the tension or the alcohol—it was about everything that had been building between you for so long.

"Tell me to stop," JJ murmured against your lips, his hands trembling slightly as they trailed up your thighs. "Tell me to stop before we change our friendship forever."

You shook your head, your hands cupping his face. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “Please… don’t stop, J” With a final laugh, JJ pulled you closer, smashing his lips against your own once again. At this point, you wasted no time in letting your hands explore each others body. Your fingers felt his perfectly chiseled chest under his shirt as he left sensual kisses and bites against your neck, quiet breaths leaving your lips as you let your head fall back in pleasure.

He was the first to slip off your shirt, tossing it to a random side of the shop as he admired the sight in front of him. You were perfectly tanned, the curves of your breast inside your bra made it even harder for him to focus. You whine as he kisses your collar, growing more and more desperate by the minute.

He smirks against your skin, his hand slipping underneath your bra until it came undone. “Impatient girl—I’ll take care of you” you let it fall, not caring even a little bit that you were almost fully exposed to him now. The shop had thin walls and makeshift windows—someone could see you if they wanted to, but you didn’t care as long as JJ’s arms were wrapped around you.

You make brief eye contact with him before he moves down your chest, his large hands kneading your breasts while his lips move over them. You were on cloud 9—so drunk and so incredibly horny for the boy in front of you that you didn’t care if anyone heard.

“You are so goddamn beautiful, Y/N” he mumbles against your skin, a moan slipping from your lips as his fingers dug firmer into your skin. It was so rough, such hungry movements against each other. It was perfect.

“Fuck, Jayj…” your fingers comb through his hair, the nails on your other hand digging into the wood countertop under you. As much as JJ was enjoying watching you fall apart, he knew he couldn’t do anything with you on the counter like this. At least not what he wanted.

You felt his hands tug you toward him, so harsh he’d moved you swiftly. Your legs wrapped around his waist like an order, and it was—an unspoken one to you. Your arms lay around his neck as he carries you upstairs, lips on your the entire time and your surprised he didn’t fall.

He laid you back against the couch, the two of you barely fitting as he followed you down. The heat from his body radiated your own—making the moment all too real. “J… not fair” you hum, tugging at his shirt that was still fully on while you lay fully exposed from the waist up. He chuckles, leaning back and pulling it over his head, throwing it to the other side of the room.

"We’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N" He tells you with a sharp tone, moving to place his hands against the couch fabric, closing you between him.

You smirk, looking him up and down once before looking back to his face. "Isn’t that what we’re all about?"

The two of you laid there, staring at the other for what felt like forever until He finally gave in, cursing himself under his breath before he grabbed your neck to pull you into a rough kiss. Your body is flush against his as he completely explores your body with his hands. You could feel his growing erection, you could feel his hunger for your body like he felt yours.

"JJ" You mumble in a breathless moan. His lips remove from yours and move to your jaw, hungrily peppering wet kisses down it, all the way to your neck.

"You are so fucking hot, Jesus" He groans against your ear, placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your moans are what encourage him the most.

Hearing your sweet whimpers in his ear as he sucked on your neck felt like a dream. Believe god, he'd had that dream many, many times before.

"I've waited so long for this" Your breathless under him, gripping his hair between your small fingers. You could feel his cock pressing against you, begging for your tongue. It was big-he was so fucking big. It should've scared you but you were more intrigued, grinding your hips against his to gain some friction with the little time you had before he stopped your bratty movements.

"I know you have" He teases and you only roll your eyes, grabbing his hand that held you steady against him. You could feel his lips brushing your skin, he wanted to mark you, and you wanted him to. You wanted JJ Maybank to let everyone know you were his.

"Having an attitude isn’t that attractive on you, Maybank. I know you’ve wanted me like this ever since I joined the pogues" You hum, holding his head and slightly pushing it down so his lips reattached to your neck. "But that’s okay, I'll find someone else—someone who hasn't played with me for years"

A grunt escapes his mouth as if he had been fighting with the feeling, shaking his head between your neck before meeting your eyes again; your bratty, untamed eyes.

"You've waited so long I thought? So long your body even reacts when I look at you" He's so obviously joking and you love every second of it. Every word of degradation is like music to your ears, like a forbidden kink you didn't know you had. Only for JJ. "This is what you wanted, huh? All those looks you'd give me after l'd make out with random kooks—you were so jealous, Sweetheart"

Your ears are perking at his every word but your eyes were filled with annoyance.

JJ knew now so why would you hide it? Hide your jealousy? "Fuck, Y/N. I’m so drunk but I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was sober either"

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling you closer to his body then before with a smirk, shrugging your shoulders.

"That doesn't matter. You have me now" His eyes. Oh god, his eyes were so hungry. At first you didn't know what to think but it only took you a few seconds to realize once his large arms were wrapped around your thighs, pulling your body close to him.

His chin sat against your stomach, staring up at you like he had been waiting for you to say something.

But you didn't know what he was planning until his thumb was ghosting around your clothed clit, that same smirk pulling at his lips as he watched you.

He slips your shorts off with ease, along with your black lace underwear, tossing them both to the side.

"Fuck" You breath heavily, leaning your head back against the sheets, not even realizing the boy under you was now fully under you. "S-shit!" Your hand fell clasp over your mouth to silence your moan, eyes falling back on him under you. Except now, his face was pressed into your dripping wet cunt, and his fingers teased what his mouth didn't. "Fucking hell, J" You mumble under your unsteady breath, trying your hardest not to moan because he had just started and you didn't want to seem weak.

But holy shit, this boy knew how to use his tongue.

Your hand fell atop his head in hopes to gain some sort of stability but that quickly failed, given how badly he was attacking your clit. His mouth was warm against you and you already knew you'd come soon. It was like he knew your body inside and out.

"I know your not holding back on me, are you?" His words vibrate against your cunt making you jolt, thankful his arms held you down so you wouldn't squirm. JJ was in pure bliss under you, relishing in your sweet taste that so effortlessly painted his tongue. You were wet, your cunt was begging for more even if you were a crying mess above him, like it finally found what it had been longing for.

"Jayj…" He chuckles at your attempt at retaliation but still manages to one up you, slipping two of his fingers inside you. “J-JJ, let me-"

"No" He only uttered one word but it was enough to make you listen like a trained dog, allowing your legs to tremble against his face. You could've taken it had you been prepared, but it had been far too long before any guy had done this to you.

"You taste so fucking good, Y/N" His fingers curl against your spongy walls, pushing his tongue against your clit quickly as your moan's increased.

It was so clear you were already on edge, about to let go without it being over five minutes. You find your pride slipping from you in a matter of seconds, begging the man to let you come as your fingers tug his hair. You couldn't hold on, your legs were far too weak.

"Please, please-Jayj, please" His ears are perking as you moan his name, begging for him, moaning for him. Normally, he'd take his time with you but now?

He needed to release all that tension between the two of you from years ago, he knew he couldn't last much longer. He needed to be inside of you, and for that exact reason is why he only sped up under you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your mind tried to come up with some sort of reason as to how you got yourself here, How you got your best friend between your legs, and definitely how you were about to fully submit yourself to this boy while your true feelings for each other were unknown. He was thinking the same thing; how did he get so lucky to have you above him?

"That’s it, just let go for me, Pretty girl" In only seconds, you're coming undone above him, legs almost falling weak as they shook from your release, sending shivers throughout your entire body. JJ’s still torturing your body, pumping his fingers into you at a faster pace. It was clear, he was trying to kill you.

"J!" You cry, gripping his hair with a begging tone. You couldn't take it much longer. You had to push him away. Finally, after what felt like forever, he removed his tongue from you, letting his fingers slip from inside you. His strong arms are the only thing that held your legs still, and you could see your release painted on his chin once he looked up at you.

"Holy shit" You curse under your breath, chest heaving as he stood to his feet. You look at the boy above you, noticing once again how he towers over you. “Dick” you push him before laying back against the couch in a huff, your body still shuddering and your heart coming down from the high he had given you.

He bites his lip, admiring your perfect body that had been on almost full display for him. He leans down when you notice how hard he is, lifting your chin with the hand he hadn't used on you.

You watch through your eyelashes as he sucks his finger clean from your release, biting his lip with a silent chuckle at how lovingly you looked at him. You grab his hand, pulling it closer to you until his other finger was pressed against your lips-to which you copied his action from before, staring into his eyes as you did.

"That’s my girl" He knew you liked that. It was so obvious—the way your legs clench together at his praise. He pulls his hand away and moves it to your neck, pressing a soft but sloppy kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself from him, and God... it was so fucking hot.

Your hand feels his body effortlessly until you reach his aching print, a small smile pulling at your lips against him.

"Let me" You mumble breathlessly, placing your hand over his cock. You could feel how desperate he had been for you, how badly he wanted you in that moment. His hand wraps around your throat firmly, pulling your lips to crash back into his own. He was so rough and impatient—you loved it.

"No. I need you. Right now" His voice is deep and makes your skin shiver, the way his hands touch you so delicately but with control. It was slightly dark around you, only lit by the string lights strung high up around the outsides of the shop.

"You have me, Jayj. You’ve… you’ve always had me" Your words make his and your own stomach twist into knots, he almost felt bad. He waited so long to make the move, afraid he misread the signs, but he'd never admit that. You allow your hands to travel down his bare abs, feeling every chisel between the pads of your fingertips. When you reach his belt, you're quick to help him tug his pants off, watching him with the most admiration.

"I won’t be able to look at you with anyone else after we do this" He looks at you once more, both of your hands laid on the waistband of his underwear. You lay your free hand on the side of his neck and use the other to touch him lower. Right where he wanted you the entire time.

His breath shutters at your bare touch, something he's wanted for so long was finally right in front of him. You were all he wanted and he prayed you ensue him just as much.

"You mean… everything to me, Jayj" You tell him truthfully, watching his eyes soften just before you pulled his face down to kiss his lips. Except this kiss had much more

meaning-the kiss after you'd admit your feelings for one another.

He leans you down, closing you between his large body and his bed, your hand is still pressed into his print, but he's already slipping his underwear off by the time you can notice.

Fuck. He was going to ruin you.

Your hands cup his face when his tip presses against your entrance, slick coating it by the second. You wanted him for so long, you didn't care if it hurt at first.

You just wanted him.

From the moment he pushed inside of you, the only feeling you could endure was love. He was slow, gentle to help you get used to his size. The boy peppers kisses to your neck as he pushed further, comforting your slightly pained moans that slip from your lips without warning.

"Mmm" You let out a soft moan once his tip is past your entrance, the hard part was now over. You look at him with your lips parted, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. He pushes your hair out of your face before kissing you, and you weren't prepared for when he pushed into you fully with one snap of his hips.

Your toes curled and your nails dug into his skin desperately, the feeling was almost indescribable. You just felt... full.

"Oh my god" You moan against his lips, throwing your head back as he strokes you slowly, massaging your thigh. You looked so perfect like this, so pretty in this light. Your body was almost bare for him, and your body was welcoming him with open arms—he couldn't get enough of you. "J... JJ" one of your hands release his shoulder to grip the sheet underneath you, teeth catching your bottom lip between them.

"Fuck, Y/N. I can’t…" He bites his lip, moving his head down to your neck, placing sloppy kisses against it. His hips find a steady pace at first and gradually work their way up, starting deep, then fast to your skin. "God, you feel so good" one of his hands travels up your body until it reaches the curve of your breasts, his large hands teasing your nipples.

"Such a tease, J…" Your breathless words are too late when he's already looking over your now fully bare body, completely discarding your words. Jesus, you were so perfect.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N" He presses a kiss to your lips before moving down your body, trailing his wet tongue down until he reached your nipple. He couldn't take his eyes off you, the curves of your body... you were practically made for him. A shuddered moan escapes your lips when he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, kneading the other with his free hand.

"Mmm!" Between the stokes of his hips and the sensations he brought to your skin, you couldn't hold much in. You were sure you were being too loud but the two of you didn't care. It was just you and him, nobody else.

His strong arms capture your thighs, pulling one of your legs to rest against his shoulder. "JJ! I can't... oh my gosh" Your little voice is projecting off the walls of the empty room but you don't care, only worried about the boy above you. Your head was still slightly spinning from the drinks you endured earlier that night and it only mixed with your horny mess of a body, begging Colby for more. "It's so good... fuck! You're so fucking good!"

"Look at you. Such a fucking mess under me. You needed me just as much as I needed you" He grabs the back of your head, pulling you up slightly so you were at an angle you couldn't look away from him.

His big eyes were burning holes into your own, hips rutting into you like he had something to prove.

Which he did.

"Gonna come..! J, I'm gonna come!" You’re a whining mess under him and he loves every second of it, pushing his hips into you faster then before.

Your small body was like a toy in his hand and you were at his every command, doing everything he said.

"Come for me. Want you to scream my name so all of those no good kooks hear how much of a slut you are for a ‘worthless’ pogue like me” You knew it was a bad idea but who were you to decline that request? You were already screaming as it was. "My dirty girl, Your so fucking hot like this”

"I'm coming! I'm-oh my god I-" Your voice is cut off by your loud moan, leg shuttering against his shoulder as you felt your release threatening to push over. His tip was kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you knew you couldn't last much longer. "J..!" You cry out, pressing your hand to his chest as if that was going to do anything. Your orgasm finally tipped, and you felt it hit you like a truck.

"That's it, Baby. That’s my fuckin’ girl" His thumb rubs circles against your clit as he ruts into your harder, watching your liquid spurt from between the two of you. "My god, Y/N. So fucking good for me"

"Jayj... please—Jesus—“

"Your body is calling mine for more. You want more" You grip his large arms until your knuckles turn white, scratching along his tanned skin. You curse at him, not wanting to hear his teasing any longer. "Fuck me? I'm only giving you what you want" You look at him with an angry look for a second before completely switching, a smirk pulling at your lips.

He pulls out of you all at once making you whine, not able to protest before he's already flipping you over onto your stomach and pushing your ass in the air.

You giggle, stretching your arms in front of you as you arch your back against him, begging him to forgive you. "I was only joking, Pretty boy" You hum, looking back at his face.

He doesn't say anything and grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back onto his length that so easily slipped inside of you. Your eyes roll back almost instantly as he bottoms you out, pushing his cock as deep as he could reach inside you. "This is what you wanted? Never knew you were such a brat" He growls against your ear, slamming himself into your harder than he had been before. You couldn't even think straight, you were already so fucked out you didn't even remember what it felt like to not be fucked.

"fuck! Right there! Please, J—Mmph!" Your begging voice is music to his ears, your hands reaching back to hold onto his warm body as he pushed himself against you. "You're so deep... so fucking good to me, J" He hums, leaning against your body so you were entirely pressing against him, his tongue running along your skin. Once again, you could feel his sloppy kisses against your shoulder and your neck.

"Nobody can have you like I can, Y/N. Your mine. You're all fucking mine, you hear me?" You cry out a yes, the sound of your skin slapping against each others being the only thing that could be heard. "That's it, just like that, my love" He praises against your ear, holding your hips to press into his.

"JJ, I'm gonna come ag... oh my god" You whine into your hand, feeling the pressure building up fast inside you. He's a grunting mess above you so you knew he was close as well, he was only holding out for you.

"Come with me. Please, don't hold out on me"

The snap of his hips slow down the closer he gets, and now your body is flush against his own, rocking back and forth to his pace with his face buried in your neck.

"That’s it—that’s my pretty girl. My fuckin’ girl, come for me and only me, yeah?" You moan at his words, throwing your head back against his chest as his fingers circle your sensitive clit. you couldn't hold it anymore, and neither could he. "I'm right behind you"

Drunk sex always felt way too good but usually it was faster and much sweatier, this felt far too different.

Even if your hips moved fast against his, it still felt like everything had been in slow motion. The way his hands held your delicate body in his embrace as he thrust his hips up to meet your own, how his lips parted in anticipation to kiss yours, JJ was so hungry for you—his body, was hungry for you.

"J... JJ!" His name rolls off your tongue in a beautiful moan. You can feel his slight hesitance but the eyes you give him are enough to tell him exactly what you wanted. You were on birth control—and you wanted all of him, just as you said.

"Fuck...!" He curses under his breath, your moans filling his ears as you clenched down onto him. He continues to coach you to it, and with one last snap of his hips and circle to your clit, you felt your body release it's everything onto his. He shushes your loud scream while silencing his own grunts, fingers digging into your hips to pull you close, painting your walls with his white, hot release.

For awhile, All that was heard was your heavy breathing and the sounds of the tv in the other room, and you soon found yourself collapsed on top of him against the couch. Your chests were heaving horribly, and the sweat that dripped from your foreheads were now everywhere. You look over at the boy next to you, only to find he had already been looking at you, both of you breathing heavy-lips parted.

It only took a second for one of you to start laughing, and JJ leaned over to kiss you again, this time staying there for the longest he could.

You hum as he pulls away just a tiny bit, still close to your face. Your eyes are shut, relishing in the feeling you had. How do you go on from this? Clearly you two loved each other, but you prayed it wouldn't be weird...

"Come here" He lays his arm out, pulling your body closer to his so you could lay your head against his chest. The room was hot, despite that fact it was basically without windows, and smelled of pure sex but neither of you complained. You were just happy.

"Jayj..." You mumble after awhile in silence, tracing lines on his chest for the 2nd time. He hums in response, the tips of his fingers brushing through your soft hair. You almost feel bad, as it you're about to ruin the amazing night you had —but you had to say it. "Where do we go from here..?"

Your voice is low and nervous, so focused on the negative that you couldn't even see the obvious answer. JJ made it clear what he wanted. He couldn't go back to normal with you—not after this night.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Alright? We’re both still drunk as shit, let’s enjoy the quiet night we have and face the music tomorrow, yeah?” He pushes strands of your hair from your face, and a slight tug at your heart subsides but you know it’s okay. You knew this could never be casual to either of you.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Captain Maybank” He chuckled, leaning his head down to press a kiss to your forehead. You smile, interlocking your fingers with his own against your shoulder. You couldn’t believe it—you were actually here with him.

After all this time.

“Only the best for my girl”

I literally haven’t written in so long. Sorry if this was rushed, the ORIGINAL VERSION was super long so I had to cut it down 🥲

[i-ship]

What’s up with Cait’s behavior in this press tour? A SamCait fic it is!

Some fluff, some angst, some steam 🔥

Don’t Play with Fire -

The dull hum of the air conditioning filled the hotel room as Sam shut the door behind him. Caitríona stood at the mini-bar, pouring herself a whiskey, her back turned to him. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her awareness.

He dropped his coat onto the armchair by the door, watching her carefully. “You’re avoiding me,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

Cait took a long sip before turning to face him, her expression unreadable. “And you came here to call me out on it?”

Sam shrugged, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Seemed like the kind of thing we should talk about.”

She scoffed, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink. “What’s there to talk about, Sam? We’re here doing press, just like we’ve always done. Nothing’s changed.”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, Here’s the continuation:

Sam’s blue eyes locked onto hers, frustration flickering behind them. “Don’t give me that. You’ve been acting different—closer, touchier. You’re pushing, Cait, and I don’t know what game you’re playing.”

Her jaw tightened. “Game? Christ, Sam, you think this is a game?”

“I don’t know what it is,” he snapped, stepping closer. “But for years, you’ve kept me at arm’s length, and now… now you’re looking at me like—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair.

“Like what?” she pressed, her voice quieter now but no less biting.

“Like the way you used to,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caitríona’s gaze softened for a moment, but then she turned away, pacing toward the window. The city lights outside cast her in a faint glow, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“I tried, Sam,” she said finally, her voice cracking just slightly.

“Tried what?”

“Tried to move on. To build something stable, something… normal. But it’s not working.” She leaned against the window frame, her arms wrapped around herself. “Tony’s a good man. He’s safe. But it’s not—” She stopped herself, shaking her head.

Sam took a cautious step toward her. “Not what?”

“Not this,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them. “Not… whatever the hell this is. It’s messy and painful, and half the time I hated it, but it was real. It was alive.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. When he did, his voice was laced with bitterness. “And yet, you were the one who walked away.”

Her head snapped toward him, her eyes blazing. “What choice did I have, Sam? Do you know what it was like, being told we couldn’t be because it didn’t fit their narrative? Watching them parade you around like some bachelor fantasy for the fans while I had to pretend I didn’t care?”

“I hated it too,” he shot back. “But I would’ve fought for us. You didn’t even give me the chance.”

“Fought for what?” she retorted, stepping closer. “A secret relationship we could never acknowledge? A love that could only exist behind closed doors? That’s not a life, Sam. That’s a prison.”

“And your marriage isn’t?” he countered, his voice cutting.

Her face crumpled slightly, and she looked away. “Maybe it is,” she admitted. “But at least it felt like a choice. With you… everything felt like it was out of my control.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Sam took a step closer, his voice softer now. “You say it was out of your control, but you were always the one holding the reins, Cait. You decided when it started, and you decided when it ended. And now, after all these years, you’re here… doing this.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed. “I just know that I’m tired of pretending. Pretending I’m fine, pretending I don’t miss you, pretending I don’t think about what we had every goddamn day.”

His defenses crumbled at her words, and he closed the distance between them in two strides. “Then stop pretending,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “If you miss me, if you still feel it… then stop.”

For a moment, she just looked at him, her breath hitching. Then, as if something inside her snapped, she grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely.

Sam froze for half a second before his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him as if she might disappear again. The kiss was hungry, desperate, years of longing and restraint unraveling all at once.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breathing ragged.

Sam watched Caitríona, her face pale and tear-streaked, and his chest tightened like a vice. He hadn’t prepared for this. Not for her to unravel everything he’d so carefully buried over the years. She was his constant—sharp, cynical, and maddeningly stubborn. But tonight, the cracks in her armor were laid bare, and it was pulling something primal out of him.

He dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself to breathe. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice came out low and rough, tinged with frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening with Tony?”

She blinked at him, her lips parting as if to answer, but nothing came out.

“For months, Cait,” he pressed, his voice rising slightly, though not with anger. “Years, even. You knew things were falling apart, and you didn’t tell me. Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you with him, trying to convince myself you were happy?”

Her shoulders sagged, and she wiped at her eyes again. “I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I thought… if I told you, it would make things harder for both of us.”

“Harder?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, pacing away from her before turning back, his blue eyes blazing. “Cait, do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself from calling you? From showing up at your door? From saying something bloody stupid during interviews because I can’t get you out of my head?”

Her breath hitched, and she stared at him, her expression stricken.

“I tried to move on,” he admitted, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I tried so damn hard. But every time I saw you—even when we were just reading lines, or doing those bloody awkward press tours—it was like… like I was right back where we started. Like none of it ever ended.”

Caitríona stepped closer to him, her hand hesitating before brushing against his arm. “Sam…”

He shook his head, stepping back, the distance between them feeling both necessary and unbearable. “I can’t do this again, Cait. I can’t let myself believe we have a chance, only to watch you go back to him.”

“I’m not going back to him,” she said firmly, her voice shaking slightly but resolute. “Sam, I’m done. I told him months ago. He’s hardly even been home since.”

“Then why are you still with him?” Sam demanded, his frustration bubbling to the surface again. “Why haven’t you—” He stopped himself, his fists clenching as he tried to regain control of his spiraling emotions. “I need to know, Cait. Are you going to leave him? For good?”

Her lips trembled, and she looked down, her silence stretching too long for his liking.

“Because if you’re not,” Sam continued, his voice breaking now, “if this is just… some moment of doubt, or guilt, or whatever, then tell me. Because I can’t handle you breaking my heart again. Not after everything.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s not doubt, Sam. Or guilt. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

His breath caught, and he stared at her, his heart thundering in his chest.

“I was scared,” Caitríona admitted, her voice trembling. “Scared of what leaving would mean. For Leo, for my career, for everything. But after Dad died… and after you showed up for me, I realized I couldn’t keep pretending. I couldn’t keep trying to make something work when my heart was… somewhere else.”

Sam closed his eyes briefly, her words sinking in like a balm and a blade all at once. He wanted to believe her, to let himself hope, but the years of longing and hurt had left scars that wouldn’t heal overnight.

Finally, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “If we’re doing this, Cait… I need all of you. No half-measures. No turning back.”

She nodded, her hand slipping into his and squeezing tightly. “I’m all in, Sam. I promise.”

Their lips met again, slowly this time, letting everything that just happened soak in. God, she missed kissing him like that.

Sam’s lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot against her skin. Caitríona tilted her head back, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging

with the kind of desperation that made his pulse race. This wasn’t a soft reunion—it was years of frustration, longing, and buried feelings exploding into something they couldn’t contain.

“Cait…” he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed her back against the wall.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer, his body taut with restraint he no longer wanted to hold. Their movements were hurried, as though time itself were against them, each touch igniting a spark that threatened to consume them both.

She tugged at his shirt, her fingers fumbling in their haste. “Why do you always wear so many bloody layers?” she muttered, earning a low chuckle from him even as he helped her pull it over his head.

“Blame Scotland,” he quipped, but the humor faded as soon as their skin met. The heat of her body against his sent a shiver down his spine.

“God, Sam,” she breathed, her voice thick with need.

“Cait,” he groaned, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, his thumbs brushing the curve of her waist. “You have no idea…”

“I do,” she cut him off, her hands splaying across his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. “I always have.”

Their lips met again, this time slower, but no less intense. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. They fell together in a tangle of limbs, each touch, each kiss, each whispered name filled with an urgency that spoke of years spent apart.

For a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just them, raw and unguarded, the barriers they’d built around themselves crumbling into nothing.

“This changes everything,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “But maybe it changes nothing. We’ve always been this… fire we can’t put out.”

Her lips quirked into a sad smile. “And fire burns, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “But it also keeps us alive.”

[insomniac4000]

George Clarke- 147

cute glasses, dork. George Clarke

George adjusted his go pro which was strapped to his chest as the Sidemen buzzed around him, each sorting out their gear for their latest video: a race across the UK. He’d been invited to join as a guest, he had been an increasing presence on the channel and he absolutely loved it. To his surprise—and slight horror—he’d been paired with Harry and Millie Harper, a rising YouTuber known for her travel vlogs and infectious laugh. Max who was his podcast co host had hinted multiple times George had a small things for her, something George had denied but always had blushed profusely. Chris had also stirred the pot asking both of them to a shoot and trying to convince his housemate to make a move.

Millie was smart, funny, and drop-dead gorgeous. George had been nursing a not-so-secret crush on her ever since they’d crossed paths at a creator event months ago. Now, they’d be spending the next two days in close quarters, and he was both thrilled and terrified.

“Alright, teams!” JJ’s voice boomed over the chaos. “We’ve got four groups. Each team has to make it from Land’s End to John o’ Groats, but no planes. You’ve got £500 and your charm to get there. First one to the finish wins!”

George glanced at Harry, who was grinning ear to ear. “Ready to crush this?” Harry asked, slapping George on the back.

“Sure,” George replied, trying to sound confident.

Millie approached, holding a map and grinning. “Guess we’ll see how far £500 gets us, eh?” she said, her hazel eyes sparkling.

“Hopefully far enough,” George said, trying not to trip over his words.

Leg One: The Plan

The trio piled into their starting car, an old, slightly battered fiesta rented for £50. Harry, a self confessed passenger princess immediately claimed the back seat, leaving George in the driving seat and Millie navigating in the passenger seat.

“Right,” Millie said, pulling out the map. “We need to figure out how to maximize this cash. Cheap petrol, cheap food, maybe hitch a ride if we can.”

George nodded, trying to focus on logistics and not the fact that her hair smelled like strawberries.

“You’re good at this planning stuff,” George said.

Millie smirked. “I have to be. My subscribers love it when I turn chaos into a masterpiece.”

Harry groaned from the back. “Boring! Let’s just drive until we run out of money and wing it!”

Millie laughed, rolling her eyes. “Classic Harry strategy. What do you think, George?”

“I think we should listen to you,” George said, earning a teasing grin from Millie.

Hours into their journey, the trio stopped at a roadside diner to refuel and grab a bite. As they sat at a booth, Millie pulled out her phone to snap a quick photo of their table.

“Smile, team!” she said, aiming the camera.

George threw up a peace sign while Harry stuffed a fry into his mouth mid-shot. Millie laughed, reviewing the picture.

“You’re such a goof,” she said to George, nudging him playfully.

“You’re one to talk,” George shot back, though his cheeks reddened.

“You’re surprisingly good at driving,” Millie said, glancing at George as he navigated through winding country roads.

“Thanks,” George said. “I try not to crash into trees. High bar, I know.”

Millie laughed, and George felt a swell of pride.

The next morning, after a brief overnight stop at a budget motel, it was Millie’s turn to drive. She tied her hair up in a messy bun and pulled out a pair of glasses from her bag, settling them on her nose before adjusting the rearview mirror.

George glanced over from the passenger seat and grinned. “Cute glasses, dork.”

Millie raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smile. “Oh, so I’m a dork now?”

“You said it, not me,” George teased, though his heart raced as Millie giggled.

Harry, half-asleep in the back, muttered, “Can you two stop flirting for five seconds? Some of us are trying to nap.”

“We’re not flirting,” Millie and George said in unison, their voices a touch too defensive.

“Sure, sure,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Just get us to John o’ Groats without killing each other or me.”

As their funds dwindled, the team had to get creative. After running out of petrol near a small village in Scotland, they flagged down a local farmer who agreed to give them a lift in his truck.

Millie climbed into the passenger seat, leaving George and Harry to squeeze into the cramped truck bed.

“This is cozy,” George said, awkwardly pressed against Harry.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Harry quipped.

Millie turned in her seat, laughing as she snapped a quick photo of the two squished boys. “This is definitely making the highlight reel,” she said.

“You’re evil,” George called out, though he couldn’t help smiling.

After hours of creative travel, bartering, and begging for lifts, the trio finally arrived at John o’ Groats, exhausted but exhilarated. They stumbled out of their final ride—a rickety bus—and sprinted toward the finish line, where JJ, Josh and Vik

“Second place!” JJ announced as they crossed the line.

Harry threw his arms in the air. “I’ll take it!”

Millie grinned, high-fiving George. “Not bad, Clarkey. You’re not half bad at this teamwork thing.”

George flushed but grinned back. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

As they posed for the group photo to commemorate the challenge, George couldn’t help but feel that, despite the exhaustion, this was one of the best weekends of his life.

After the cameras stopped rolling and everyone began to relax, George found himself sitting on a bench with Millie as the sun set over the rugged Scottish coastline.

“So,” Millie said, nudging him with her elbow, “cute glasses, huh?”

George chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “What can I say? They suit you.”

Millie smiled, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Well, thanks, I guess. You’re not so bad yourself, Clarkeey.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them faded. George’s heart pounded, but before he could say anything, Harry’s voice shattered the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds! We’re heading to the pub. You coming or what?”

Millie stood, offering George a hand. “Come on, dork. Let’s celebrate.”

George took her hand, grinning as they walked back to the group, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more.

[localfanbaselurker]

Lotor: please Allura, let’s not fight! you said we were 4lifers!

Allura: you’re just like your father!

Lotor:

[firstroseofspring]

b’elanna vs her mother at similar ages, plus some sketches!

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

rafe having no boundaries and grabbing his girlfriend's ass in front of family during a family trip

A little Rafe and Sarah being siblings

—

‘’Can you not do that here?’’ Sarah grimaced after Rafe wandered in and smacked your ass on his way to the fridge. ‘’We’re cooking. That’s gross.’’ 

You and Sarah had woken up earlier than everyone else and decided to whip some pancake batter. They were coming along nicely, slowly piling up on a plate.

Rafe rolled his eyes in response and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘’Chill out, Sarah. I’m just saying ‘good morning’ to my girl.’’

Sarah scoffed, giving him a glare as you flipped out the pancake in the pan. ‘’Well, keep your 'good mornings' to yourself until after breakfast and when I’m not around, alright? I’ve seen and heard enough things I didn’t want to.’’ 

Your cheeks turned red and you kept your eyes on the pan, embarrassed as memories of Sarah catching you topless in their pool and all the times she heard you through the walls of Tannyhill before Rafe got his own place. You’ll never apologize to her enough. 

‘’Stop acting like a prude. I’ve heard you on the phone with that pogue you’re seeing. Ahh, John B., I wish your fingers were inside me. I’m so close, I need to—’’ 

Sarah grabbed a blueberry and threw it at her brother, her face burning hot at his mockery. If eyes could kill, Rafe would be a dead man. She looked murderous. 

Rafe smirked, unfazed by the blueberry that was thrown his way. He crossed his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes flickered with amusement. ‘’These walls are old. Did you think I couldn’t hear you?’’ 

To avoid a Sarah vs Rafe duel from happening, you asked Rafe if he wanted chocolate chips or blueberries in his pancakes. You already knew the answer, but you needed to defuse the bomb before it would explode. 

‘’Blueberries. You know how I like my pancakes, baby,’’ he said, pushing himself off the counter and closing the distance between you and him in a few strides. 

Sarah shot a glare in his direction, her eyes narrowing, but Rafe chose to ignore her and kiss your shoulder, standing right behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back and resting his chin above your shoulder.

‘’Rafe, you’re distracting me,’’ you warned, pouring batter in the pan and adding some blueberries. 

Rafe laughed lowly, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms wrapped tighter around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips lingering on your skin for a few seconds. ‘’These look good. Think we can take the pancakes to bed after you’re done?’’ 

Breakfast in bed, away from everyone else, sounded tempting. You've had breakfast with the Camerons since you arrived, sticking to the polite routine. You missed being alone with Rafe in the morning, taking it slow and engaging in non-PG activities.  

Before you answered, Sarah cleared her throat beside you, a disapproving look on her face. Rafe thought he was subtle and sleek when he had his hand wander under your robe. 

He lifted his head and gave her a cocky grin. ''What?'' 

‘’In case you forgot, I’m still here,'' the blonde recalled, taking a few plates from the cupboards and deciding to set the table. ‘’And Wheezie and Dad and Rose are gonna come down soon.’’ 

‘’I know,'' Rafe replied, stepping back and letting you finish the pancakes. ''If you had not been here, I would have her bent over the counter already.’’ 

His words should have shocked you, but you were used to his bluntness by now. Rafe never held back, always saying exactly what was on his mind, no matter how outrageous. No matter the audience. You thought he would behave and tone it down with Wheezie in the house, but he didn’t. 

Thankfully, her young ears were not around.

You looked over your shoulder, failing at hiding the smirk that tugged at the corners of your lip.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina@eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx@sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife   @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker   @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage   @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc   @pedrosprincess   @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb   @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom   @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey   @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld   @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble   @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius   @buckyswhxre @emerald-09   @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey  @ynmunson @riddle18  @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

[atrwriting]

shouldn’t have — lumberjack!logan x fem!reader

listen usually i would hate this plotline but like ?? are yall seeing what im seeing ?? feminism exists and is alive and well until we see this man and suddenly we’re all damsels in distress

as always, warnings: reader was in an abusive relationship, logan the savior (i have issues ok), dom logan, bratty reader, choking, slapping, rough p in v sex, swearing, breeding kink tee hee

mdni!!!1!!1!1!1!11!

————

you had been with your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — for about three months before you had noticed something was wrong. just a few things, you thought. nothing bad. nothing to worry that much about. it felt like he was doing so many things too much; sleeping, drinking, smoking, video games… yelling…

you thought by getting him a job with some men you knew would be fine — that it would solve every problem. why would it not have? he just needs a job, you thought. just something to get him up in the morning… something to give him purpose…

you were wrong — oh, you were so wrong.

at first, everything was fine — up every day, home every night, and only so many hours at the end of the day could be dedicated to all of those bad little habits you hated so, so much. he was drinking, smoking, playing video games so much less — you almost forgot why you were so annoyed and insistent on this new job in the first place.

...until he stopped coming home before midnight.

...until the yelling got worse.

until he got worse.

you almost left him — almost. until, one night — he asked if you could pick him up from the bar after work so he wouldn’t have to wait before he could drive home. you could've squealed you were so relieved, so happy. it seemed like a step in the right direction, and you were hopeful. you thought the kinks were working themselves out, making it so you could finally work out your issues with him. like the good girlfriend you were, you drove to the bar promptly for half past ten and waited in the parking lot for him.

after a few minutes, you sent a text.

a set of ten minutes had passed as you sat there, waiting.

...then another.

...and then another.

you called him, but there was no answer.

no fucking answer.

you ground your teeth when the call was sent to voicemail. voicemail? fucking voicemail? you stared down at the screen like it mocked you — showing you the reflection of your face in the glass like you were some joke, and embarrassment flooded through you.

all you could think about was self-respect — how if you didn't have any respect for yourself, how could your boyfriend respect you? how could anyone respect you?

it brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away.

and there went the last straw…

you got out of the car and slammed the door. you were buzzing with anger, shivering like you were cold. anger filled you, but adrenaline was what carried you on its back through the doors of the bar and past its threshold. it was the only friend you had in that moment, and you grasped at its hand — letting it lead you to your doom.

what you didn't expect what form your doom would take.

…your doom came in the form of a hot blonde with legs and cleavage for days.

she laid horizontal across the bar — shot glass in her belly button, line of salt up her abdomen. you watched a man, dirty from the work day, eye the blonde with hunger in his eyes. he wrapped his dry lips around the rim of the shot glass, and threw his head back. almost immediately, he licked the salt trail with a flat, heavy tongue. the blonde above him giggled at the texture of his tongue on her tanned skin — and once he was done, she grasped both sides of his face and pulled him towards her.

that’s when you saw the guy’s face — smiling and drunk — your boyfriend’s face. men around them hollered as he pushed her against the bar top, kissing her hard. all you could do was stare — adrenaline left you high and dry when you needed it most. you were just cold now — cold, lonely, and embarrassed. so embarrassed. so fucking embarrassed.

“you’re his ol’ lady… aren’t you?”

your head cocked to a stool near you, occupied by one of his coworkers. he had a cigar in his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at you, barely looking at you. his hand was around two fingers of whisky — and it had never looked so tempting.

“was,” you whispered, politely correcting him and locking eyes with him.

“good,” was all he said before he threw back the rest of his whisky and stood from his chair.

you were still in shock, frozen in place. all you could do was watch as the man pushed through the crowd, and stood in front of your boyfriend. you stared at the man's shoulders — covered by thin flannel that would never stand a chance against the muscles underneath. you gulped as he stood toe to toe with your ex-boyfriend, but the man didn't look half as scared as your ex did.

“you’re fired," was all the man said.

everyone around the man, including the blonde and your boyfriend, went silent. jaws were on the floor — no one knew what to do. what could they do? they weren't expecting this — not when the fun had been going on for so long. the man couldn’t have cared less — he waited for a split moment, awaiting any sort of rebuttal from your ex-boyfriend… and that was when your ex noticed you, staring at him. instead of running to you, begging for forgiveness… he started begging the man that had fired him for his job back.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. of course.

“not happening, bub,” he spat. “now — i’m going to go buy your ex-girlfriend a drink with your last paycheck. ask your buddies for a loan on the tab with the blonde."

and with that, the man turned on his heel back towards you. when he turned, he didn’t bow his head or look at the floor — he looked straight at you. and for the first time that night, you saw what he really looked like — a man. the man radiated masculinity like he was the poster child for the hard working all-american man. worn jeans, work boots, faded flannel… the works. his body was thick with muscle, and impressive sight that was definitely thanks to his job. the years showed on his face — but in a way that was handsome and reliable. life seemed to have chewed him up and spit him out, but he didn’t look the type to go down without a fight.

with a moment or two, he was in front of you. he sat down on the stool, and patted the one next to him — gesturing to you.

“what’re you having, sweetheart?”

you stared up at him with confusion and surprise in your eyes, but a blush across your cheeks. your mouth fell open, stammering — as if you hadn’t been embarrassed enough tonight. your eyes darted to your ex — the intoxication starting to wear away as realization set in. he lost his job, girlfriend, and ego all in a matter of a moment — and you knew how these things ended.

“i think i should —“

“he won’t bother you,” the man responded, gesturing to the bartender for two more drinks.

you took a cautious step back — eyes on your ex who was talking with his work buddies now, eyeing you and the man. the blonde had been discarded, scoffing as she found herself in a similar position as you — chewed up and spit out, but not willing to fight.

you were fumbling for your keys now, anxiety beginning to take over. you were shaking as you took several steps back, not knowing whether to run or start crying was the better answer.

the man who had stood up for you then stood, sighing. he saw your ex walking towards you now, and he rolled his eyes in the way an owner would be annoyed with a dog going back for something they were explicitly told not to. the man drank his whisky, and handed you the other glass.

the man only had a take one step towards your ex before your ex had stopped in his tracks, eyes and mouth wide.

“got all the time in the world, bub,” the man spoke. the man had his fists balled at his sides — and, within an instant, sharp bones almost two feet long had sprung from between his knuckles. the man didn’t wince — but everyone else did. with a cocked head, he then continued, “do you?”

when your ex didn’t move, and the man was satisfied that none of his friends were going to make a move… he turned on his heel and stalked back toward you.

“finish your drink, sweetheart — we’re leaving.”

within five minutes, you had finished your drink before you went outside. there was logan — same bone swords unsheathed, but now stabbing into black tires on a familiar truck. you smiled — now your ex didn’t have a ride home.

“can i give you a lift?” you asked.

few hours later — there you sat with the man, who you now knew as logan. you were on one side of the couch — you curled in the corner on the end, and him in the middle turned towards you. the alcohol was flowing, so you didn’t need a blanket over you to keep warm. now, sat across from logan, both of you appearing to feel the effects of whisky — all you wanted was his warmth.

“good hostess,” he spoke as you refilled his whisky glass.

you blushed. “nothing compared to what you did for me back there — least i can do.”

“i gotta ask —“ he said, taking a sip. “why him?”

you shrugged. “guess i learned the hard way you can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.”

he looked at you then — almost through you. you wondered if he could see the same ghosts in your eyes that you could see in his.

he shook his head then, chuckling — appearing to want to break the heavy air. “you’re too young for talk like that, doll — won’t allow it.”

you returned his laugh, realizing you were happy for the subject change. “not every man is like you, logan — first one i met that would’ve done what you did.”

he set his glass down then, and you were struck with the realization of how broad his chest and shoulders were. how the fabric of the stretched across his muscles. how heavy the scent of whisky, maple, wood, and cigar smoke hung on his clothes. you stopped staring at him to meet his eyes then, but he was already looking at you.

logan caught you staring. a blush rose to your cheeks.

“there was a time where men i knew would’ve killed to be served whisky by a pretty girl like you,” he spoke, voice gruff. “time where i would’ve.”

you smiled, insecure under his gaze. “you’re easy on the eyes, lo — can’t imagine you had to put much effort into getting with someone you wanted.”

“oh, doll —“ he spoke, leaning in towards you. his face was barely inches from you, and you wanted him to touch you. you wanted those big, calloused hands on your soft skin — wanted it so fucking bad — but he wouldn’t put them on you. not yet. not quite yet. “sweet, pretty things like you? worth all of the effort in the fucking world.”

you felt one of his hands — his large fucking hands — slide down from your knee, to the side of your thigh. he squeezed lightly on the flesh, loving the feeling of your soft skin. you met his eyes then, dark and hungry. he wasn’t hesitating — he was waiting for your approval or disapproval. he wanted you to know he wanted you, but also that you had the final say.

“y’gonna let me show you how a real man’s supposed to treat a woman?” he asked, tucking a hair behind your ear. “hmm, sugar? climb in my lap, and i’ll show you.”

curiosity killed the cat, but not before it found out what the secret was.

logan fell back against the couch — man spreading, hands on the tops of his thighs with his eyes on you. only on you. there was no more of the adrenaline from earlier, no — but there was the confidence from the warm, dark liquid flowing through your veins. it gave you the push you needed, making you throw a leg over his hips, and sit your ass down right over the tent in his jeans.

“that’s a girl, yeah…” he spoke, his hands ran up and down your thighs. his eyes were raking up and down your body in the way that your ex had looked at the blonde, and it only added to your confidence. you wanted to be wanted — and logan made you feel more sexy than your ex ever had. “tell me, sweetheart — when you look at me, what do you see?”

“a man,” you respond, before you can stop yourself.

he raises his brow then — surprised, but not displeased at your answer. “ — yeah? and what makes me a man?”

you thought for a second, as the alcohol clouded your ability to be witty. you couldn’t pinpoint why — you just knew. while you were thinking, almost stammering — you felt his hand snack underneath your skirt and find your lacy panties. you were struck with the sudden realization of how badly you wanted to show him what they looked like, convinced he would like them — but he wouldn’t let you take off your skirt. you eyed him, confused.

“not yet, doll,” he spoke, voice hoarse. his eyes never left yours. “not taking off this skirt — no matter how much i want to — until you know for sure that i deserve to.”

“logan…!” you grumbled, throwing your head back in mock laughter and frustration. “y’gonna make me beg? come on —"

“beg? not tonight, darlin’,” he laughed. you felt one of his fingers prod at your folds through your panties, poking through your lips to find the hidden sensitive parts of you. you sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling — curious and turned on. “but you are gonna tell me everything you’re going to look for in a man from this point on. when i’m satisfied, then i’ll let you cum.”

“didn’t think you liked games,” you breathed, curiosity, pleasure, and anxiety mixing in your blood.

“i don’t,” he said with finality and sincerity. “i teach lessons, sweetheart — and now i’m gonna teach you how a man should treat you."

“yeah?” you breathed, keeping your lips barely centimeters from his. “and how are you going to accomplish that?”

“rock those pretty hips against my hand, baby —“ he spoke, pressing his fingertips against your clothes core. “and tell me types of guys you're goin' to avoid."

you went to question him, confused — but he pulled you right back in. he pressed two finger tips against your panties, creating the most devious fiction against your sensitive bud. you jumped at the feeling, but he kept your hips steady.

“there’s one —“ he chuckled. “didn’t know how to touch you, yeah? so sensitive — ‘s like he never did.”

“he didn’t know how,” you whined, rolling your hips against his fingers and letting your eyes drift close.

“not surprised,” he grunted. “never a good worker either. so, what’re we avoiding next time, sugar, huh? tell me.”

“i don’t know… i don’t…” your mind was warm and fuzzy now, leaving you unable to answer.

he swatted at the flesh of your ass then, causing your hips to jerk and your eyes to open in shock. he looked up at you, unfazed. “you don’t wanna cum, do you? want me to use you just like him — leave that pussy wet and wanting?”

you giggled. “don’t tempt me.”

his hand reached for your throat, an evil smirk on his lips. “you’re a naughty fucking thing.”

you nodded feverishly, loving the grip on your throat. “for you, lo. i’ll avoid lazy men, i promise —“

“you better,” he warned, his eyes looking up at you with hunger. his wingers were rubbing hard against your clit, and you wanted him oh, so badly to dip into the fabric and roll around your clit or supple hole. “another — tell me. now.”

“careless,” you whined, your hips jerking. “i’ll avoid careless men, logan, i promise —“

“fuck that,” he spat, the grip tightening on your throat. “you’re mine, darlin’.”

he threw you down onto the couch then, landing on your back with a thud. he gave up on his own game, and your confidence bloomed within you. to be so sweet, so pretty — to make a man like logan stumble? forget what he was doing, all because he wanted you so bad? to be in between your plump thighs, round lips, and encircles in those pretty arms? your cheeks were burning pink as your gaze came back into focus above you. there stood logan, on his knees on the couch, as he unbuttoned his flannel with an animalistic chase in his eyes. you couldn’t help but put yourself on your elbows, rubbing your thighs together to keep the friction and heat up. but your eyes? oh, your perfect, big eyes? they were on logan’s. they told you everything you needed to know as he tore off his belt.

“you want me to use you, baby?” he asked as he unzipped his belt. “that’s what my girl wants?”

“by you, lo — a real man,” you breathed, stroking his cock and lining his cock up with the entrance of your pussy.

“good fucking girl,” he growled, plunging his cock into your pussy.

his hips snapped against yours, causing you to jump into the arm rest. you held onto the arm rest, your pillow, to keep you steady. logan liked the sight — pretending that you had your hands tied up above your head as your breasts lifted with your arched back, preening upwards just for him. he watched the shivers run up and down your spine, causing your nipples to peak. he watched them hungrily as they bounced for him and only him, wanting to pull both into his mouth and show you just how greedy real men are.

and when he saw you release the grip held by one hand, and watched it travel down the length of your abdomen, with the end goal of your clit — he swatted your hand away, angry. his gaze — it screamed how fucking dare you?

“fuck off with that shit —“ he spat, pushing your hand back down to hold onto the head rest. “this first time, darlin’? i make you cum — and you lie there, and you take it.”

you whined at his words, your big beautiful eyes on his hungry irises. you folded your lip in between your teeth before you curled your hips up to meet his, wrapped your legs around his hips. never had you been treated with such confidence, such ease — but you wanted him to work for it, see how far he could go to prove to you that he was the best. “you promise, old man? you can keep up?”

the air went still then — but your smirk didn’t falter. it should've, you would realize later. you should've been afraid of the man, knowing what he was capable of when someone tested him. the difference was... logan welcomed the spice in you, as long as it was his to silence. logan’s eyes went wild and dark then, realizing the challenge. he held back so much with you, trying to keep the man awake and the beast dormant — but the greedy girl in you just kept knocking.

he flipped you then — forcing you onto all fours. he bent you over the arm rest, your throat in the crook of his elbow. his free hand groped and pulled at the flesh of your ass, letting go only to smack it. smacksmacksmack. his tough and calloused skin would leave marks, you were sure of it — but it only made your pussy wetter. the sounds were pornographic, filling the room and his nose and ears.

“wasn’t much of a brat tamer, was he?” he spat, fucking into your puffy pussy. his grip on your throat wasn’t tight, but it kept you in control. there was no moving, and there definitely wasn’t enough air to mouth off. “nothing sweet about you — just a greedy fucking girl with the neediest fucking pussy. i'll get'ya there, doll — don't worry now."

you held onto his forearm for dear life, trying to keep your balance as you arched your back up into him. you felt your juices leak around around your sopping wet cunt and down both of your thighs and logan’s. the air was thick with your scent and sounds, pricking at logan’s heightened hearing. your whines — oh, your whines, your fucking whines! — were filling his ribcage and warming every part of him that wasn’t touching you. his lips were sucking at your neck, nipping at the skin . he felt the vibrations of your moans against his lips and he had to fight every instinct to sink his teeth into your shoulder, ruining you for everyone else.

“please — please —“ you choked, smacking against the arm rest. he pulled your free arm back behind your back, forcing you to take everything he gave you.

“not stopping until that pussy creams, baby,” he spat into your ear. his hips were relentless against yours, plunging in and out of your wet folds as he kept them tight and controlled for his use. “when that dumb fuck comes back, to get his stuff? i want him to know who’s pussy this is now. that fucked out look on your face? yeah? that’s all that sack of shit is gonna see before i slam the door in his face.”

“fuck, logan —“ you whimpered. “i’m so close. f-feels so good. please, don’t stop —“

“i know, baby, i know….” he moaned. you reached underneath him, grabbing at his heavy sack and rolling his balls with your finger tips. he jumped at the feeling, curious how a fucked out little thing like you still had so much energy to tease. “never ends with you, huh, does it? always wan’ more?”

“cum with me, lo —“ you choked out. “come on — make me feel it.”

he smacked your ass once more, grasping onto the rippling skin. you could feel your tight muscles, like cement — knowing they would be sore in the morning. you rolled his balls in between your fingers, keeping as controlling of a grip on him as he kept on you. his breaths were ragged against your neck, broken and feverish. your eyes were screwed shut, trying to find his lips in the darkness as you fought with and against logan.

“fill my pussy, baby,” you whined, reaching to any part of him you could grab.

when he saw your eyes, most of the begging in them rather than your tone — he couldn't help it. it took over him before he could even realize it was happening. how could he deny you so,ething you wanted so badly? asked for so sweetly? logan came before you did — much to his dismay, but only for a moment. he felt his skin shiver before his hips snapped forward once to meet yours, trapping you against the arm rest. he rutted into you as the walls of your pussy were coated — dressed in his seed, his spend, his claim. you could hear a growl rumble low in his chest, tearing up at the sound of such a big and strong man at his most vulnerable, his most peaceful state — only for you.

when you reached for your clit again — whining and wanting, ready to take advantage of hearing his satisfied moans in your ear — he smacked your hand away. you scoffed at his movement, but he shut you up quickly. his own fingers found the spot, and his fingers felt better than yours. you should’ve known they would, with the way they attacked you through your panties.

“pussy’s filled to the brim, sugar —“ he grunted. “now i wanna feel it shake while you’re full of me.”

he was so tired, but not his muscles — definitely not his muscles, nor his grip. it held you tight and upright — forcing you to take it in your weak, fucked out state.

“you want me to fuck my cum farther into you, darlin’?” he rasped, fighting his exhaustion through gritted teeth. “i’m too deep, aren’t i? i’ll fuck my cum into your womb if i’m not careful… but you'd like that, wouldn't you? dirty little thing..."

his warning was a threat, but your mind was too soft to realize. too pliant, too ready for him. all you could do was stare off into space as he held you close to him. his fingers spun circles around your puffy clit, his still hard cock piercing into you. “so very deep, lo…”

and when he smacked your clit once before continuing the assault, you came. you came harder than you ever had before — alone, or imagining something in your head as someone else fucked you. it was like your primal nature was being ripped from you, wanting to show and present itself to match logan’s — to show logan you were his match, that you were his equal. you bucked your hips back to meet his, letting the tip of his sensitive cock graze your sensitive walls as you screamed his name. it filled the room more than anything had for him — and it was all he would think about in the days to come. this woman, so worthy and so ready for him — only for him, and all for him.

“that’s it, sweetheart. work for it, that’s right…”

and as his seed slipped into your womb, open and ready for him as you came, you felt his lips press hard, sloppy kisses against your jaw. your own mouth was open, cries falling from it.

“my good girl learned her lesson, didn’t she?” he rasped. “don’t matter now, anyway — no one but me is gonna be in your bed. i'll burn his shit later."

———

i need to touch grass - L xoxo lmk what u think

[pogueprincess]

The Albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[little-diable]

Lightning - Tyler Owens (smut)

I mean, we all knew this would happen. I haven’t seen the movie yet, but I am DESPERATE for him. And as somebody who actually has something to do with studying tornadoes, I had to write this. I am obsessed with this fic, but I doubt this will get much attention, so please actually reblog it if you enjoyed reading it! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler and the reader are chasing tornadoes together, but when they have to step back and find shelter, things quickly change between them.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, handjob, kinda enemies to lovers, teasing and all that fun stuff

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3k words)

Wind was blowing in her face, letting her strands dance in the air while her eyes flickered between her laptop screen and the dark sky. She was surrounded by her team, trying to ignore their shouts as they decided which direction to head in. (Y/n) was torn between too many options, not liking the way this afternoon was playing out. 

It was do or die, miss or hit one of the biggest tornadoes they had come across in a while. And yet the second cell that was currently forming gave off a somewhat more promising chance of catching enough data this time around. 

“Which way will it be, lightning?” Her breath hitched in her chest as he mumbled the words, front pressed against her back. The hairs on her arms began to rise, fully focused on his closeness, allowing her to pick up on the scent of his familiar cologne, on the way his breath fanned over the back of her neck as if he was about to kiss that very spot.

“Am I dreaming? Is Tyler Owens asking for my opinion?” She slowly turned towards the handsome man. Her eyes instantly found his piercing ones, getting lost in their intense gaze while he shot her one of his signature smirks. Fuck, if he weren’t such an asshole most of the time, she would easily give in to the pull she felt, allowing him to tug her towards his bed without having to fear about the aftermath. But if there was one thing (y/n) was sure of, it was that Tyler Owens was all about playing games, toying with a woman until he eventually grew bored. He was a personification of a thunderstorm, fast moving and never ready to settle.

“Don’t let it get to your head, pretty.” She clicked her tongue with a displeased expression tugging on her features. There was no time left to study him, to curse whoever had created him for making him look this handsome. They had to stay focused, at least until she got the data she needed for her project. 

“Alright, we’re heading east.” (Y/n) closed her laptop before reaching for her bag–the bag that was snatched from her grasp before she could protest. Tyler had slung it over his shoulder while tilting his head towards his truck, silently asking her to ride with him. 

On any other occasion she would have cursed him, would have told him to fuck off. But today, while being heavily understaffed, she needed any help she could get. And knowing that Tyler drove like the devil himself, she knew she had the best chance of arriving just in time with him by her side. 

His smirk grew wider the second she gave in, begrudgingly following Tyler while her eyes found the confused ones of her teammates. She only rolled her eyes at them, raising her shoulders and dropping them again as if she was wordlessly telling them that she was just as confused as they were, not seeing through Tyler’s game just yet. 

Silence filled the truck, only a few commands left (y/n) whenever they needed to make a turn, chasing down the roads to catch up with the growing cell. All while the others followed behind them, too slow to catch up with Tyler’s truck. Her heart was pounding in her chest, riled up by the anticipation of chasing another storm – no matter how many times she had done this before, (y/n) would never get used to the thrill, the moments leading up to seeing yet another beautiful though terrifying tornado. 

“You alright, pretty?” She’d never get used to the way Tyler called her, dripping with that drawl she loved more than she’d ever admit. (Y/n) didn’t look at him, fully focused on her laptop to monitor the path their tornado took. No word left her pressed together lips, trying to drown out the feeling of his concerned eyes flickering towards her every few seconds. 

“(Y/n)?” The use of her name ripped (y/n) out of her trance, letting her wide pupils find his. She only nodded at Tyler, knowing she couldn’t waste any time on the crush she could never speak of, preferring to take her secret to the grave rather than feeding his ego–only to end up with a broken heart in the process. 

“Guys, can you hear me?” She held the radio close, speaking to the others while refocusing on the map. All they could hear was rustling, unable to pick up on the reply that was spoken on the other end. Curses clawed through (y/n), she tried to reach their teams again, while swallowing the sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. No longer could she see them in the rearview mirror, telling her that they hadn’t made it down the narrow path Tyler had taken.

The road ahead was muddy, forcing the truck to slither along while Tyler tried to avoid holes and ditches. With one hand clutching the door, (y/n) tried to hold still, not daring to bump into Tyler whose angry cusses filled the truck. Both had their eyes focused ahead, knowing that this had been the wrong choice, the wrong tornado to chase. They were heading straight towards their death if they kept going that way, knowing that without their team by their side, they wouldn’t be able to collect enough data anyway. 

“I hate being the one to say it, but we gotta find shelter, lightning.” Tyler’s annoyed groans left her nodding, giving him the green light to take a sharp left to turn towards the town close by. With the slimmest chance to find proper shelter, Tyler kept speeding along, seemingly having a spot in mind. (Y/n) was angry, at herself, at the road conditions, knowing that this situation should have played out much differently. And all she could do was trust the man she had always tried to hate.

“Come, follow me.” The truck was forced to a sudden halt. (Y/n) followed Tyler outside, holding onto her things while he reached for her free hand to pull her along. He guided her towards what appeared to be a barn, a building she paid no attention to as she studied the tornado, getting lost in its beauty for a second. “They built an underground shelter here a few years back, if we’re lucky nobody else had the time to find it.”

Tyler pushed her into the unlocked barn, letting the doors slide close again before he led her down some stairs. She didn’t dare speak, torn between too many emotions. All (y/n) could do was let go of a sigh while being ushered into the empty, dark shelter. It took her a while to adjust to the darkness, letting her hands move along the metallic wall until she found what appeared to be a light switch. She gave it a try, though without any luck, letting herself drop to the ground while Tyler stayed glued to his spot. 

If both hadn’t been too deep in thought, they would have realised that this was the first time they were sheltering together, completely alone without any nosy eyes watching them or listening to their talks. 

“We should have gone west, I’m sorry.” Her whispers filled the small shelter, luring Tyler closer who plopped down next to her. He fumbled with his phone to turn on the fleshlight, letting it rest on the ground to alight their surroundings. A few boxes were placed against the wall, filled with water and some snacks they hopefully wouldn’t have to use, praying that they’d get out of here fast enough to chase their luck once again. 

“There’s always time for another try, pretty.” Tyler reached for her hand to squeeze it before he could stop himself, forcing her eyes to focus on the spot where she now felt a buzzing sensation. She let her head roll towards Tyler, studying the white hat he took off with his free hand, placing it down on the ground, only to comb through his hair. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without that thing on.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him chuckling, a sound that momentarily managed to drown out the roar of the tornado. The howling was an almost comforting sound to them, after years of chasing them, well aware of every little detail. 

“Well, you’re one of the few who gets the honour, appreciate it.” She rolled her eyes at him before ripping her gaze off of him. Heat flushed through her at his teasing, a heat that only grew more biting as she realised that they were still holding hands. Her tongue moved along her dry lips, trying to find the right words to break their silence, silently hoping that she could cherish every single second of their time together. As much as she had once sworn to hate him while burying her crush deep inside of herself, she had lost all strength to fight against it, at least for now.

“Why have we never done this before?” Tyler seemed to feel the same longing, drawing her focus back towards him with his question. His eyes had an even more piercing touch to them now, having an invisible tight grasp on her soul she didn’t want to escape from. 

“Because you’re an asshole most of the time and I can’t stand being around you for long.” (Y/n)’s sharp reply left him laughing, a loud sound that had an addicting effect on her, leaving her chuckling while shaking her head at the man. 

“You wound me, lightning. Here I was hoping you’d finally let me take you out on a date, once this day’s over.” No longer did she laugh, the sound was stuck in her throat all too suddenly.

Did he truly mean it? Was he planning on asking her out? Or was Tyler playing yet another game with her? 

“Don’t fuck with me, Owens.” His hand darted out to grasp her chin, forcing her to keep her focus on him before she could even try to turn away from him. For just a second, she watched his gaze flicker between her eyes and her slightly parted lips. Once again her heart was back to racing, no longer focused on the howling wind, the sounds of things crashing outside, but fully and solemnly focused on Tyler. 

“Are you scared of this thing between us?” Once again, his question managed to rob her of the air filling her lungs, not expecting him to be this direct with her. A part of (y/n) begged her to cuss him out, to make fun of the question, to escape the avalanche that was about to roll upon them, but the bigger - more desperate - part of her, managed to gain the upper hand, leading her straight towards danger.

“Well, even though you enjoy riding your fears, I prefer to face ‘em. I’m not scared, not of this, whatever this is. But I’m fucking terrified of you toying with me and dropping me the second I’m no longer interesting enough.” He let go of her, only to pull her into his lap, making her straddle his stretched out legs. They held eye contact, wordlessly daring one another to move first, to give in to the pull that was as strong as an F5 they’d happily chase on any other day. 

“I’d be fucking stupid to mess it up with you.” She felt his breath on her lips, ghosting over her soft skin like he was giving her one last chance to pull away. A chance she wouldn’t take, letting it pass while finding his lips for a soft kiss that escalated within seconds. With his hand pressed to the back of her head and his other placed on her waist, Tyler held her to him while deepening the kiss.

Their tongues fought for victory, knowing that neither of them would back down from a fight against the other, urged on by their need to gain the upper hand. Soft groans and moans left them while their bodies searched one another’s closeness, knowing that this was something they wouldn’t tell others about, preferring to keep this as their secret. 

Her hands roamed his clothed chest, feeling his muscles beneath her wandering fingers while finding her way to his belt. She toyed with the buckle for a moment while her lips were still glued to his, knowing they’d have to part any moment now to inhale some much needed breaths of air. 

“You sure you want to do this in here, lightning?” His chuckles left her grinning, while holding onto the question she had wanted to ask for a while now. 

“Why lightning?” A kiss was shared between them, much softer than the one before. Her hand was still toying with his belt, slowly undoing the buckle to wordlessly tell him she wanted this much as he did, even though they knew that it was stupid and selfish of them to hide out here while their teams were undoubtedly worrying about them. 

“Well, the first time I saw you, you struck me like lightning, brightening my darkest day.” The explanation was cheesy, and yet it still drew heat up her neck. She could only swallow, smile at him and refocus on her hands. Tyler let her move, freeing his hardening cock while his impatient hands tugged on the buttons of her blouse, letting it pop open to expose her bra-clad chest. 

“Fuck, you’re a dream.” Her eyes flickered up to his while she spat into her palm, using her saliva to lube him up. Tyler couldn’t stop his moans from clawing through him, fully focused on the way he perfectly fit into her hand, pressed against the soft skin he wanted to feel against every inch of his body. His head rolled back against the wall, eyes closed and lips parted – offering a sight that made her walls clench around nothing, proud for being the one to make him feel like that. 

Her hand added more speed to its movements, squeezing him with just enough pressure to draw another raspy moan from Tyler. He allowed himself to relish in her touch for another moment before he gently though urgently grasped her wrist to stop her from moving. 

“Will you ride me, lightning?” His accent grew thicker with every syllable, leaving her shuddering while only a soft chuckle managed to leave her. She rose to her feet to shuffle out of her jeans, keeping her eyes focused on Tyler who marvelled at her as if she was the strongest tornado he had ever been fortunate enough to see, fully mesmerised by everything about her. She kept her panties on while finding her way back to his lap, knowing that they needed to hit the road soon, not giving them a chance to do this properly. 

“Wait, here.” He reached for his back pocket to pull a condom out of his wallet, letting her rip it open to roll it down his aching cock. Both their hearts were beating in sync, knowing that they were finally about to do something they had been desperate for ever since running into one another for the first time. No matter how much anger and hatred had once grown between them, it was now turning them from opponents to lovers–or whatever it was both were trying to adjust to. 

Tyler held onto her as she sank down on him, letting her forehead fall against his shoulder for a second. No words were spoken while they had to adjust, overwhelmed by the new sensation and the whirlwind of emotions buzzing through them like a storm hitting them both. With her hands holding onto him, clinging to the fabric of the shirt he wore, she began to move, fucking herself on his twitching cock with such a passion, Tyler feared he may never want to get out of this shelter again. 

“Tyler,” his name left her, a breathy whisper he almost missed, too far gone to focus on anything but their closeness. He palmed her ass, letting his fingertips dig into her skin to leave marks that would remind her of this very moment for days to come. His hips met hers, jerking upwards to make his cock disappear inside of her even deeper, drawing desperate moans from them which dripped with a need for more. 

“Attagirl, look at you, fucking yourself on my cock like you were born for this.” She moaned at his words, knowing that her thighs would start aching soon enough, begging for a new position to give herself the needed push to fall over the edge. “What? You’re already getting tired? I should have fucked you in my truck, make you scream my name while the world’s ending around us.” 

He pushed her off of him without a warning, leaving her dazed and confused for a second while watching him rise to his feet. With a hand stretched out for (y/n) to take, he pulled her up towards him–only to pick her up and press her against the wall. His cock was pushed back into her, stretching her walls while he fucked her with a fast pace that made both of them see stars. 

(Y/n) clawed at his neck, needing to hold onto him while he fucked her closer and closer to the edge. A cocky grin widened on his lips as he felt her walls tightening their grip on his cock. She was close, would let go soon with his name burning on the tip of her tongue, a perfect reminder that she was his from today on, glued to the man who she had once sworn to hate. 

“Scream my name, lightning, show them what a real thunderstorm sounds like.” If he weren’t buried deep inside of her, she would have rolled her eyes at him. But (y/n) was too far gone to care about his cheesy teasing, solemnly focused on her arising high and the name rolling off her tongue like a prayer.

And then she came, pushed into an orgasm so strong, (y/n) feared she’d never experience something like this again. It buzzed through every part of her body, stealing her breath as if she was drowning, forcing her heart to skip beats as if she was chased by someone or rather something. Tyler kept fucking her against the wall, urged on by her moans, the sounds he’d never forget again. 

Pants kept leaving him while chasing his own high, letting his skin meet hers with every ferocious thrust. And with one last “Fuck” Tyler came, relieving himself into the condom as his smirk returned to his lips. Both were heavily breathing, clinging to the other while coming down from their highs.

“I don’t know if I can walk back to the truck.” Carefully, he placed (y/n) back down on her feet, shaking his head at her with a soft smile thrown her way. Tyler pressed another kiss to her slightly swollen lips before both redressed, knowing that they had to get out of here and back to their team as fast as possible. 

“You know I’ll gladly carry you, lightning. I always will, if you let me.”

[shrenvents]

Spellbound

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, oral, cunnilingus, unprotected, fluff, some violence, biting

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Witch reader

Summary: You're a witch with a specific skill set, one that has intrigued a certain hybrid.

Word count: 2.7k

...

Voodoo. Magic. Impulse. Obsession.

She was his newest fascination.

He heard her laughter cracking through the walls of the barren bar before it cut short. Klaus observed how the sunlight blazed across her, poorly parked, car. His lips slanted in mild amusement. He told himself, that’s all it was, all she was. Mild amusement for an immortal. Though, something felt different.

He strutted into the place, head hung high as he scanned the bare vicinity. His eyes halted on a man behind the bar, rinsing glass cups. The bartender's eyes adverted from Klaus, the second he caught his stare. The man's nerves were duly noted as Klaus approached him.

“I’ll have a glass of your finest red,” Klaus spoke artfully, with a fake smile plastered on his face. The worker shuddered. “Ug- we’re not serving right now.”

“No worries mate,” his mellifluous voice paused. “The red I fancy isn’t something I’d find on your menu.” The man's gaze shot up to Klaus’s. His lips trembled as Klaus continued his jest. “Unless you intend to provide me with a bite, I suggest you tell me where she’s hidden.” Klaus’s threat echoed through the building, till silence took its place.

Suddenly, the sound of a back door, opening and slamming shut jolted Klaus away from the bartender. He instantly raced to the door, ripping it open. He watched as her frame scattered into her rusted car. He growled. There was no way he'd let her escape once again...

Your body was convulsing with anxiety. Who were you to know a little magic truce with the “other side,” would have a certain hybrid on your front doorstep. It didn’t help when you levitated everything in your apartment at him, including your freshly made spaghetti with bolognese. It was to be expected, that would piss him off...

Yanking the car door shut, you forced the key in and started the engine.

“Where are we headed this time darling?”

“Ahhh!” You screamed, snapping your head to the uninvited passenger. Klaus sat leisurely beside you, and you swear your life flashed before your eyes. “I must say, I enjoyed our time in Chicago. Perhaps San Fran may be the next best thing, love.” His smug face adorned your features, absorbing the way your face contorted in both fear and frustration.

“Jesus,” you huff, and Klaus’s smirk grows. “As much as I love the idea, somehow becoming your personal chauffeur isn’t that appealing.” Klaus chuckles lowly, leaning in, more and more.

“Well, if you hadn’t decided to run off, you crafty little thing," he drawls sweetly, "We wouldn’t have the pleasure.”

“If you weren’t trying to kill me, maybe I’d stick around.” Klaus’s brows twist like he's appalled by your words. “Who said I was interested in killing you?”

“You- I- then, what do you want?” You stammer. Klaus went quiet. You watched as his expression goes blank, before he acts as though he was in deep thought. Then, his mouth gaped in 'awe,' as if the answer suddenly came to him. “Your talents of course.”

“My talents.” You repeat, baffled.

“Yes, do keep up, my dear.”

“Why? You could have any witch at your disposal, at a moment's notice.”

The corner of his lips elevate once more. “I’m flattered.”

He’s become so close now, you feel his breath, and you try not to shiver as it grazes your neck. He, on the other hand, basks in your scent.

“But, unlike my other witches, you have a gift,” he muses. “Your connection with the dead is something to behold, and something I crave.”

After a prolonged silence, you speak. “If I help you with whatever," you move further into your seat, "When it comes to an end, you’ll let me walk away, unscathed?” Your brow quirks, and with every fibre of your being, you manage to maintain eye contact. “Yes, you have my word.” Klaus’s expression went stoic, holding an unflinching seriousness that made your heart rate stutter. And strangely, you knew you could trust him.

That's how you ended up as his lackey. For the past 5 weeks, you were at his beck and call as he tormented humans, werewolves, and vampires alike.

Like any other day, your conscious is eating away at you, as you call upon another ancestor of those he plagues. Today though, you finally broke. He had been cruelly punishing a guy for hours, as you questioned his late brother through the veil.

“That’s enough!” Klaus’s eyes dart to yours, and his angry appearance softens. Instinctively, he grips your forearm and drags you out of the motel room.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“What's wrong is that I’m tired, and his brother is telling me jack shit about those ‘hunters.’” You huff, closing your eyes.

Klaus firmly presses himself stock-still, resisting every urge that wishes to devour you, as you naively allow him to hold you so close, let your guard down, and close your eyes. Such an urge that has only worsened, and become insatiable since you started your venture together…

“Love, why don’t you grab a bite from the cafe across the street, while I fill up the car's tank?” He says heartfeltly, "That way we both can have a break."

Your eyes flutter open, and you nearly tremble at the gentle look that flickers in his gaze. However, his body language, which clutches you tightly, suggests he is anything but. “Okay.”

After five minutes alone in a booth, you gather up the last of the courage you were trying to dispel. Now, heading back to the rented room, to release the hostage. Stupid, very stupid, you think. But you can’t help it.

When you enter the room, the door slowly creaks shut, and shadows engulf you. It’s too quiet, and you can’t see the hostage. Unease fills your system, and you begin to regret this decision. That impending regret soon became alarms going off, when the captive grabs your torso, roughly caging your arms. His grip is inescapable, and when you try to scream, his free hand covers your mouth.

“You fucking bitch,” he murmurs with disgust, and you wince. “How about I leave you bleeding out here, all laid out for you bloodthirsty master.” The man crackles with humourless laughter. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

While his venomous words made you cower, you relentlessly struggle against him, fighting with all that you could muster. Unfortunately, your captor was a werewolf, and far too strong for you to at least break free, to cast a spell.

He muffles Klaus’s name with his palm, and tears prick your eyes. Even after the numerous times you’d bicker and argue, he was still the first person who came to mind, who you hopelessly called out to.

The man began lifting your body towards the door, urgently turning the knob. Just as the outside light cuts into your vision, you're wrenched from him, pulled into a powerful embrace. With ease, Klaus’s arms carry you away, swiftly placing you in the backseat of your car, locked safely inside.

His figure then disappears just as quickly, and you hear your aggressor's voice wail in pain. Shaking, you curl over yourself, covering both ears pathetically.

After what feels like an eternity, two large hands cup your tear-stained cheeks, bringing you out of your shell. He quiets you, as he slides inside the vehicle, smoothly pulling you onto his lap. One of his arms supports your back, while the other strokes your hair. Calming you down, he mutters things like: 'Everything’s fine now love,' 'I’m here,' 'I’ll take care of you...'

“I’ve never felt so helpless,” you mumble.

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing you could've done to stop a werewolf, especially when a full moon draws near,” he soothes. You press your cheek further into his broad chest. “Though, I wish you would’ve just listened to me for once, and stayed put.”

You shoot your head up, adjusting to face him, close enough that your noses nearly meet. “If I listened to you, I’d probably be dead by now.”

“Oh really?” He grins, eyes creasing, “How so?”

“Well, for one, that time you ordered me to question that vampire chick's dead boyfriend about his affair, right in front of her.” Klaus guffaws. “You're laughing, but she would've bit my head off.”

“She wouldn’t have,” he denies, still chuckling.

“Yes, she would have Klaus.” You start to laugh too.

“You know, I wouldn’t have let her.” His face deadpans, “Like I didn’t let our were-friend hurt you," he voices, airily. "I gave you my word.”

“Yes, of course, your word.” You giggle nervously, glancing at the hand currently bracing your thigh, gliding its thumb back and forth. “It’s not all that I’ve given you.”

You look up and are met with a mysterious look this time. Your brows furrow in confusion. He smiles dreamily, “Your skills as a witch truly know no bounds.”

“The hell are you talking about now?” You retort, making Klaus laugh loudly.

“I’m talking about your spell," he whispers. "The one that has bewitched me.”

You freeze, heart dropping.

“You don’t mean that...” Your sentence trails off as Klaus stares through you.

He’s so unpredictable, that a part of you believes he's most likely playing some sick game. But, there was also a possibility that he meant it, and all the hidden desires, for your unconventional boss, were about to bubble to the surface.

“I've meant every word, from the moment I met you, when you got the better of me.” He smirks, breath fanning your face. “Witchcraft.”

Then his lips take yours, slow at first, but the entanglement shortly turns desperate. Slightly hesitant, you grind on him, eager to pull him closer. He groans, and his hands enthusiastically roam your waist and back, beckoning you nearer.

Moving in a frenzy, as your fingers tangle in his locks, you swing your leg to straddle him. He moans your name in between kisses, and palms your ass.

Continuously rolling your body into him, makes you feel his arousal, causing a whine to escape. When your lips break apart, his mouth runs down your jaw, to your neck. You gasp, but you don’t stop him. He audibly tells you how much he’s enjoying himself, and you squeeze your thighs over his.

“I can only imagine how sinful you taste here darling.” He remarks as his hand slides over your core, and you whimper. “How about you let me try?” He hums politely. “You know you want me to.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?” His voice rises questioningly, and a hand gropes your chest, while the other grips your chin, tilting your head down to peer into his eyes. “Not here,” you finish, and he smirks wildly.

“Then, I’ll just have to get us a private room?” He purrs seductively into you ear, making you shiver. “One that is, unoccupied,” he rolls his tongue, and you shiver again at the double meaning behind his words. You don’t even want to think about what he did to your assailant…

“Please,” you sigh into a kiss, pecking his lips, which seems to surprise Klaus momentarily. His surprise briskly turns into a beaming smile. “To be continued,” he utters before shifting you off him, and rushing out the car.

Not long after, Klaus reappears with that same childlike cheer gracing his features. Jerking the door open, he outstretches his hand like a gentleman. You accept it, and his palm completely envelops yours. He tugs you to his hip, and nibbles on your earlobe while you walk to a random room.

As soon as the door locks behind you, he presses himself against your backside. “Now, how about that taste?” He mutters while lifting your hair to kiss your nape, and rubbing himself against you. You press closer, before spinning around to enclose your mouth on his again. He groans into your mouth approvingly, backing your body toward the queen-size bed.

His lips free yours when your back legs hit the edge, and you fall backwards with a yelp. His hands soon make work of your lower half, removing your clothes as he kneels infront of your cunt. You inhale deeply, as cool air hits your bare body.

He goes silent, so you raise your head to peek at him. Klaus ogles you heatedly, like the predator he is. “Lovely,” he sing-songs.

He abruptly grips your thighs and heaves your core to his mouth, so close, his breath warms your skin. “K-Klaus.”

“Hmmm,” he hums shortly, before delving into you. You sob a cry of shock. His tongue expertly runs over your folds, sucking the nub with such a slow deliberation, like he can’t decide how he wishes to take you at first, as if he’s imagined every which way he could.

You whine, motioning him to make his choice, bucking up, feeling his stubble scratch you. Then he grows aggressive, hungrily lapping your clit, over and over, until he ushers out your orgasm.

When your lengthy climax finishes, he moves to sigh pleasantly into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible,” he emits with a chant of your name, thoroughly relaxing your shaking form.

“Fuck, take off your clothes,” you beg. He immediately abides by your command, tearing off his shirt and pants. You grab his necklaces to haul his lips to yours. You savour every inch of yourself on his tongue, and he relishes in how dirty the act is.

“There’s only so much I can do before dawn, and it won't nearly be enough to satisfy my hunger for you.” His poetic words erupt something within. You exhale, “It seems you’re going to break your promise then.”

He stills at your words, befuddled. You elaborate, “There’s no way I’m coming out of this unscathed.” A timid smile spreads across your face, and he almost nods in understanding, feeling a strange quiver in his chest.

Wordlessly, he pulls himself from his slacks, and you take off the last of your clothes. Suddenly feeling a little out of body, you decide to take back some control of the situation. So, you flip your positions, once again, surprising Klaus, though he allows it.

You straddle him, and lower yourself onto his thick cock. You whimper the second the tip enters, and he growls, pressing his fingertips into your hips, definitely leaving bruises.

“You’re too big,” you gasp.

“You can handle it, sweetheart,” he states mindlessly. He wraps his arms around your waist and arms, pulling you down onto him. His hips press completely into you, pushing himself inside to the hilt. A wheeze leaves your lungs as he grounds into you. “Klaus, it’s too-“

“It’s perfect,” he finishes for you. You barely have any time to adapt to his size before he begins pounding. Pleasure wracks through you, and he takes whatever control you had away. His pace is unnerving, and you utter incoherent words, while his fangs graze your neck.

“Tell me,” he groans through his panting. “Tell me you want me.” He demands, though it almost sounds like he’s begging for it. “I-I want you.” The words stumble out as his thrusts reach your center.

“More,” he just about whines.

“I want you Klaus,” you shout. “You feel so good- fuck I’ve always wanted this, you.” You ramble, egged on by him. He loves it, and you feel it in his strength. He holds you tighter, and the air abandons your body.

Feeling his leg tremble, you know he’s close. “Bite me.” His clamped-shut eyelids pop open, and his dark pupils bore into yours. You kiss him, and take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Bite me while you cum,” you command.

He gulps before taking his last few pumps into you. He moans into your neck as his teeth puncture your flesh. You cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure that shatters you both.

After almost 10 minutes, he releases you from his firm caress and kisses the holes in your neck.

Still inside, he turns you both on your sides. You catch your breath. “How are you still hard?” You sigh in exasperation, and he chuckles breezily. “I told you, you’ve bewitched my very soul darling.” He smirks.

“This is only the beginning.”

If you enjoyed this, i'm currently writing a klaus fanfic! it’ll be posted on my wattpad @ shrenvents <33

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ when a heated argument between rafe and bitchy!kook!reader leads to the cops knocking at their door when they’re already.. ‘making up’

warnings: toxic!rafe, toxic!reader, nothing about this is romantic, cheating accusations, arguing, lots of yelling, physical violence, angst, lots of throwing and breaking things, banter (?), making up, the cops show up, unprotected sex, rafe gets slapped and choked during sex too..

a/n: this has been in the vault for a while now lolll. huge thanks to my bb @nemesyaaa for giving me this idea <3

wc: 2.8k

“you’re acting fucking crazy right now!” you walked through the front door, rafe following closely behind as you slipped your heels off. “i’m acting crazy?” you spun around, rafe eyeing the shoe in your hand. “i hear this bitch talking about how you and her fucked while we were on a break, and you expect me to be calm?” you scoffed, “don’t tell me i’m acting crazy when you haven’t even tried to start explaining to me what the fuck she’s talking about!” you threw your shoe just like rafe suspected you would.

missing him by a few inches, rafe lunged at you, grabbing the other heel out of your hand. “what the fuck did i tell you about throwing shit at me!” you rolled your eyes, shoving him away as you walked past him to the kitchen. “start talking rafe.” your boyfriend pinched the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flaring as you took a water bottle out of the fridge. “she’s obviously lying! why would i go have sex with someone when me and you were still fucking? blocked contacts and all?” you narrowed your eyes at his form.

“i swear to you, i don’t even know who that girl is!” he walked around the kitchen island, a groan rumbling from his throat when you moved away. “then why would she say that? why would she be talking to her friends about it in a pathetic little circle if it wasn’t true?” you shot back. “hello?! so that we could argue exactly how we’re arguing right now. are you really gonna give her the satisfaction by doing what she wants you to do?” he slammed his fist down on the marble slab separating you two.

arching a brow, your gaze flickered to his phone in his pocket. “give me it.” rafe scoffed. “give you what?” he sneered, his heart dropping when you pointed to the cellular device tucked away in his pants. “do you seriously wanna act stupid right now? i said give me your fucking phone.” rafe cursed under his breath, not even wanting to imagine what you’d do if you saw him hesitating. sliding the damned thing across the island, you picked it up and unlocked it. “if you take one step i’m shattering this shit.”

the first thing you did was go to his text messages, scrolling through every thread for any sign of whatever her name is. you didn’t find anything after a few minutes of searching, ‘recently deleted’ messages included. his social medias were next, a lot of them clean for the most part. you bit the inside of your cheek when you opened his photos. golfing selfies with topper, loads of offguards of you at your vanity, even more photos of you and him while you were out running errands.. amongst other things..

despite not finding anything, you noticed rafe still had this worried look on his face. biting your lip, you followed your gut feeling and opened his notes app. sure enough, there at the top was a phone number with the initial ‘s’ next to it. tapping the number, you put it on speaker before muting yourself. “who the fuck is ‘s’?” rafe’s eyes widened in realization. “don’t-” he stepped forward, making you raise a finger. the phone rung twice before a sultry voice picked up. “hey, handsome, i was waiting for you to call me..”

eyes flickering over to his, you smiled in disbelief. “rafe? hello?” you hung up, your heart beating in your ears as white hot anger blinded your vision. “i can explain that!” he knew to keep his distance from you, your fingers clutching his phone even tighter. “i don’t want to hear shit. you’re a liar, rafe. you always have been.” now you were calm, and to rafe that was worse. what made you so angry wasn’t the fact that he slept with someone else, but acting like you were the crazy one and flipping all of tonight’s arguments on you.

rafe still continued talking. “we didn’t have sex! i never even called her or anything! did you not hear her say she was waiting for me to call?!” you turned, your eyes burning into his skull. “it’s the principle! you still had this bitch’s phone number saved! that’s the fucking problem, idiot!” without thinking, you chucked the phone across the room, shattering a picture frame of you and rafe. following the line of damage, rafe’s jaw clenched. he really liked that picture of you two. “we’re breaking each other’s shit now? bet.”

you rolled your eyes as he stomped up the stairs, a bottle of perfume flying from the railing and into the wall where a hole now resided. “i could always buy a new one, asshole!” you taunted him, “with your credit card, too!” the next thing that came hurling from upstairs was a glass jewelry box where you kept all the jewelry rafe specifically bought for you. that one did in fact hurt a little. you took a breath before he really took the cake with the next item, or items. as if moving in slow motion, you watched as rafe threw over various makeup products over the spiral staircase.

eyeshadow palettes, foundation bottles, tubes of lipgloss and concealer also amongst the mess, all came to a booming crash smack in the center of the foyer. there was glass absolutely everywhere. and you were barefoot, great. you stared at the space around you, tears pricking your eyes at the scene. you and rafe stood in silence, thinking about why this continuously keeps happening. you didn’t care if he saw you crying, the sound of your sniffle making his demeanor change. “i’m sorry, baby.”

you shook your head, not wanting to hear anything. “no, you’re not.” your voice shook as you tiptoed to the couch, trying your best not to step on any glass. going inside your shared bedroom, rafe came back out with some shoes for you before making his way downstairs, the glass crunching underneath his feet. “please, i’m begging you to just let me explain all of this.” he plopped down next to you, in which you moved over all the way to the other side. petty.

“me and topper were at the golf course, kickin’ it the way we always do when this bev cart girl came up to us,” you looked over at him, your teary eyes making his stomach churn, “she was telling us that she had just started there and that she lived on the other side of the island and long story short she started flirting with me, okay?” he held his hands up defensively. “i told her that i have a girlfriend and i wasn’t interested by a long shot.” he started, “she got a little irritated and then topper, being the instigating asshole he is, invited her to the party tonight—” you cut him off.

“that still doesn’t explain why her number was in your phone, and why she was talking about you being the ‘best fuck of her life’ while i was sitting right there.” rafe rested his head in his hands for a moment. “can i finish?” you waved him off as you settled back in your corner. “things got awkward so i gave topper my phone before going inside and getting a drink. when i came back out, she had winked at me all weird and topper showed me that he had saved her number in my notes for me to send to him later because his phone was dead. that’s it, i swear.”

you didn’t say anything, a part of you hating yourself for wanting to believe him. “explain to me why she was talking crazy with her friends then.” rafe tapped the side of his head, “because she obviously knew it was you that i’m with!” he shouted, making you glare in his direction. “how would she know me?” you crossed your arms. “y/n.. besides the fact that we were all over each other, who the fuck doesn’t know you?” rafe asked incredulously. fair point. “is that all?” you looked up at him as he scooted closer.

“no.” his tone switched to that gentle lilt, your breathing slowing when he took your hand in his. with the last bit of resolve you had left, you pulled away from him. “well make it good, because i’m on the verge of leaving your ass.” rafe scoffed. “you said that last time..” he shot back, “and the time before that..” you shot him a glare. “and who broke in when i changed the locks?” you reminded him of the time you woke up to a busted door in the middle of the night. “you got me.” he shrugged, in which you looked away.

“whatever.” you felt exhausted, all of tonight’s activities were starting to catch up to you. who knew overthinking, arguing on the way home, breaking stuff, and yelling and crying could make someone so tired? “no— i mean like, you got me.” rafe closed the space between you two, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you still avoided his gaze. “hey,” he thumbed your chin, “there has never been, and never will be, another girl. i’ll die on that hill.” your eyelids fluttered when you felt his fingers creep up on your thigh.

“i know you could see right through me, does it look like i’m lying?” the expression on his face was clear as day. he was telling the truth. you let out a shaky breath, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled you on top of his lap. “oh, baby, we have to do better.” he squeezed you tight, inhaling your scent as his palms ran up and down your back. you sniffled into his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there. “i’m sorry for breaking your phone.” rafe shushed you, eyeing the broken device in the corner.

“don’t be. i’m the one who broke like half of your shit.” you didn’t even care, mostly because you knew rafe was going to replace everything anyways. you pulled back, cupping his face in your hands. “i love you.” you whispered, those three words making rafe’s heart clench. giving you a small smile, rafe replied with a ‘i love you too,’ followed by ‘give me some sugar..’ of course, you leaned in, rafe’s lips meeting yours halfway as he groaned at the taste of your lipgloss on his tongue. this was just how things went, you two have been here plenty of times before.

his hands snaked down to the globes of your ass, hiking your dress up as he kneaded your flesh between his fingers. your kisses became more feverish, a muffled moan sounding from you when rafe slipped his tongue inside your mouth. he dragged your hips against his clothed erection, both of you hissing at the much needed friction. “how bad do you want it?” rafe panted, nipping the skin of your neck. you almost laughed at his words. “how bad do i want it?” you repeated, “how bad do you want to take it from me?” rafe groaned when you wrapped a hand around his throat, pushing his head back against the couch.

he should’ve known taking the reigns wasn’t going to be that easy. with one of your hands restricing his intake of air, he blinked up at the ceiling, his eyes fluttering shut as you pressed kisses to his chest. you were so sexy like this, he let you grind against him until he couldn’t stand to not be inside of you for another second. you let rafe remove your grip on his neck, a small gasp leaving your lips as he took both of your hands and tucked them behind your back. your head was resting on his shoulder as he pulled himself out of his pants, his fingers moving your underwears to the side before forcing you to sink down onto his length.

you were so slick and ready for him, rafe couldn’t refrain from cursing in your ear. “you’ve been soaked this whole time, huh? fighting turns you on, is that it?” you met his eyes. “mhmm,” you leaned down, “you make me so wet when you’re mad..” rafe grunted, landing a harsh smack to your ass. he knew that already, but hearing you say that while he’s both angry and sexually frustrated just ticked him off even more.

soon, you were the one bouncing on top of him, making him watch in awe as his cock disappeared inside of your greedy cunt. wanting to watch you unravel, he started stroking your clit, making you double over. “you wanna cum? you have to earn that shit.” without a word, you reached up, slapping him across the cheek. the action made him twitch inside of you. “you only cum if i get to.” you kissed him roughly, biting his bottom lip as you pulled away. you were so serious too.

rubbing your clit in harder circles, you nearly screamed when the tip of his cock began pressing that sweet spot inside of you. “fuck—” your thighs began trembling, your orgasm just right there in arms reach when there was a loud bang at the front door. both of you jumped, the fire in your loins melting away into nothing as both of you froze. “what the fuck?” rafe held onto you tighter before the banging continued. “who the fuck is that?” you got up, pulling off of him with a hiss. “outer banks sheriff deputies, open up!” you and rafe looked at each other with wide eyes.

rafe cursed under his breath, adjusting your dress and his pants before stepping in front of you to answer the door. “can i help you?” he peeked out, two other cops standing at his side. “are you the owner of this home?” rafe squeezed your hand, responding to the officer with a ‘yes, sir.’ opening the door a little more, the cop continued to explain why him and his team were there. “we received a few calls reporting a domestic dispute at this address, ‘said that they heard yelling and a lot of ruckus.” you shut your eyes for a moment. you should’ve assumed the whole island was able to hear you and rafe going at each other’s throats.

“uh, no sir, nothing domestic going on around here.” rafe joked. no one laughed. “no? so the four separate calls we received were all lying?” four separate calls? damn, people couldn’t mind their business around here. “well, uh.. yes, me and my girlfriend had a little disagreement but we’re okay now—” immediately, the sheriff demanded to see some kind of identification. taking his id out of the wallet in his pocket, rafe cooperated as the older man had him confirm his information. “so you said you and the woman are ‘good’ now?” officer shoupe, as rafe had learned, asked with concern.

“yes, sir, she’s right here.” before you could protest, rafe dragged you to the front, an awkward smile adorning your lips as you were pretty sure they could see the smudged lipgloss all over your mouth. “hello, sweetheart. can you confirm that you are safe and in not any immediate danger with this man?” you looked back at rafe, having never been questioned by the police before. “yes, i’m safe,” you answered, “we just had a little fight, but we’re making up now..” one of the female officers cleared her throat awkwardly.

“i see..” shoupe nodded, gaze flickering back at rafe. “well i guess we’ll leave you two alone then. next time, can you please keep your volume low? you two had some people pretty spooked there.” you mumbled a ‘yes, sir.’ before rafe pulled you back inside and shut the door. it was silent for a moment, both of you seemingly looking around at the aftermath of everything. “i can’t believe people called the cops..” you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. rafe watched with a confused expression as you started sweeping up glass.

“so, uh— we aren’t going to pick up where we left off?” you looked up at him with a look that said ‘seriously?’. “no. how about we ‘pick up where we left off’ after you help me clean all of this up, and replace everything you destroyed?” rafe groaned. he could always count on you to leave him with blue balls. deciding to help you, it wasn’t long before everything was cleaned up, no sign of any earlier events except for the new hole in the wall. after you two showered and settled in bed, rafe held you flush against his chest while he kissed up your back,

“are you sure you don’t want to finish?” rafe sounded pained, like he needed to be inside of you immediately. turning around in his embrace, you pecked his lips before swinging a leg over his hips. “make it fast.” you pretended like you didn’t want the same thing, a smile gracing your lips when you heard rafe mutter a ‘thank god.’ before slipping off of your nightgown.

[augustinewrites]

“what’s on these?” megumi asks, holding up a box of memory cards.

cleaning day always unearthed all types of lost and forgotten items. sometimes it was clothes long forgotten in you and gojo’s closet, other times it was the kid’s old books or toys. you knew every inch of your little apartment, so most times you could identify any mystery items that came up.

“i don’t know,” you hum, plucking a card from the box to inspect it a little more closely. the only hint as to what’s actually on it seems to just be a date.

2006

…and it’s in gojo’s handwriting.

curious, you pop one into the video player and turn on the tv. the kids join you on the couch, clearly eager to entertain any distraction from your cleaning crusade.

when the screen flickers to life, a familiar courtyard comes into view.

you can’t help the gasp when haibara comes into focus…but then you see satoru standing standing across from him, arms spread out.

“who is that?” megumi asks, pointing at haibara.

you think of the bright smile of the boy still lingering in the edges of your memory and tell him, softly, “an old friend.”

“suguru!” gojo shouts, looking towards the person holding the camera. he’s all messy hair and wide smiles, exactly how you remember him in his youth. “make sure you get this one!”

geto grumbles about how he’s paying attention, and suddenly you remember exactly what this is.

“ah, these are from when yaga would make us record ourselves practicing cursed technique application,” you explain as a haibara lines up a shot with a pencil.

the pencil hits gojo in the face, gifting him a small cut on his cheek. “ah, shit!”

behind the camera you can hear nanami and geto laughing as haibara apologizes profusely, and shoko comes over to practice her healing. you come over too, holding a cloth.

“don’t pout,” your younger self says, reaching up to wipe a thin trail of blood from his cheek. “you’ll get it next time.”

as soon you turn away, you hear geto snicker and the camera suddenly zooms in on gojo’s face.

he’s blushing.

“ugh,” you hear him groan behind the three of you, finally finished cleaning the bathroom. “are we done cleaning yet?”

“we’re taking a break!” tsumiki tells him, as megumi pops another card in.

gojo ignores megumi’s protests, stealing the spot on the couch next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a smirk. “move your feet, lose your seat.”

tsumiki, angel that she is, moves over so her brother can sit on your other side as the video starts.

this time, gojo is the one recording, holding the camera out so it’s pointed at his own smiling face. “haibara versus nanami, round one!”

you feel your boyfriend stiffen beside you, looking over to see an odd look on his face. “oh, fuck—”

“jar,” megumi says flatly.

he glares at the kid, and is about to get up when you stop him. “wait! i want to watch this!”

he slumps back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he groans dramatically. ignoring him, you watch the fight play out, which ends with haibara whining whilst in a headlock.

you hear geto’s murmured commentary off camera as nanami releases his classmate, expecting the video to zoom in on the victor.

but it drifts a little to the left, where you’re laughing with shoko on the sidelines.

“so obvious,” geto scoffs. the video wobbles for a moment before being pointed directly at the tips of satoru’s shoes, then ends abruptly.

when you glance over at satoru, he’s pulled his sunglasses over his eyes as if they can hide his pink cheeks.

the next videos are similar. memories of your past viewed through a different lens, showing you things you’d never picked up on when you were living them.

some moments you watch with an aching heart. like when suguru leans close to you and makes a joke at satoru’s expense, or when you reach up to ruffle haibara’s hair.

(moments with cherished friends proving that the grief of losing them never got any lighter as you moved forward with your life, but at some point you’d just gotten used to carrying the weight.)

but what might be most interesting is seeing yourself in satoru’s eyes.

his focus, whether he was the one holding the camera or not, always seemed to drift to you. for all the times he’d denied crushing on you in your early years, the camera proves otherwise.

the way he peeks at you shyly as you fix your hair before a fight.

the way he reaches out instinctively whenever you’re knocked backwards.

the way he smiles brightly whenever you laugh at one of his jokes.

the way your gaze would occasionally meet his, and his smile seemed to come naturally.

“okay, that’s enough for tonight,” satoru announces, shutting the tv off and shooing the children away. “go clean your rooms, you freeloaders.”

you stand, looping your arms around his neck before he can run away. smiling, you gently pull his glasses off, tossing them onto the couch.

“hey! those are gucci—”

you shut him up with a kiss, feeling the way his lips curve upwards against yours. “i love you, you know that?”

blue eyes meet yours, the pensive look he’d been wearing melting into something a little softer. something reserved for you. “you’re obsessed with me, i know.”

you simply laugh, letting him dip down to give you another kiss.

(because you’d had his heart in your pocket long before either of you had realized.)

[januaryembrs]

BLACK CAT GIRLFRIEND | Spencer Reid x reader

request: Hey Congratulations on the 2K! Do you think you could write something with Spencer Reid and a Reader who has lots of tattoos and/or piercings? Like she's the whole "bad girl" stereotype but Spencer and her complement each other so well and have a very sweet and mature relationship. I would love something like that.

description: the team meet Spencer's new girlfriend and she doesn't look quite like they'd imagined

word count: 1.1k

main masterlist

authors note: I officially hit 2k followers this morning!! see my post here for requesting but lets start this milestone off with a bang!! thankyou so much :))))))

Morgan had to admit, you weren’t exactly what he’d envisioned when Pretty Boy had been talking his ear off for months about the girl in his apartment building that had slipped him your number. He wasn’t judgemental, not by a longshot, but Spencer had always seemed like the type to date the preppy, library geek, or even the cutesy geneticist if Maeve had been anything to go off of. 

It’s not like you weren’t hot, he could see that you were a mile away, but you looked like you’d sooner break someone’s wrist for so much as talking to you than fall for their resident genius. 

You smiled tightly, shaking Derek’s hand with a crushing grip, as Spencer introduced you to his team, the obnoxiously loud bass almost drowning out his words as the six of you stood in the bar. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer talks about you all the time,” You said politely, and no sooner had you let go of the man’s warm hand, two arms were thrown over your shoulders and you were tugged into a hug. 

“I’m Penelope- oh you’re so pretty, Morgan isn’t she so pretty? You should marry Spencer then you can be boyfriend girlfriend for, like, life-” The perky voice was all a jumble as the blonde pulled away, cupping your face, rubbing down your arms kindly, sweetly, like you were swallowing a warm spoon of honey. 

“Penelope, newbie rules, remember,” Emily chimed in, seeing your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion of personal space. She could see this ending with the pretty pink bows Garcia had plaited her hair in torn to shreds on the sticky floor, right next to her long barbie locks if your intimidating figure was anything to go off, “Not everyone likes hugs,”

“No, no,” You replied, smiling gently at the woman who was softer than cotton candy, “Hugs are nice,” 

“We’re going to be very best friends, I can feel it, which is funny because my tarot actually said I’d meet a strong Taurus woman- or are you a Scorpio-” Penny’s smile was dazzling, but she was soon ushered to let go of the bear like grip she had on your shoulders by a chuckling Morgan.

“Let the other kids play with her, babygirl,” He said, and you were pulled in another direction towards Emily who gave a polite handshake. 

“Nice ink,” She said with raised brows as she saw the intricate sketches that covered the back of your hands, trailing up your arm and under the band tee you wore. She knew who they were, though they only dragged up memories of her own days of thick eyeliner and rebelling against her mother. “They must have hurt like a bitch, I got one on my hip and could barely sit for one hour,” 

You snickered, nodding, seeing her eyes trailing over the ones on your ankles and knees where your ripped jeans flashed them all. 

“Bones hurt the most, though the one on my ass is up there for the worst ones,” You replied, and Penny’s brows shot into her hairline, though she giggled like a schoolgirl being told a secret.

“I think we’re gonna need to see the proof on that one,” Morgan teased flirtily, the way he always did, the way he did even with JJ who had a whole child and partner, because it was his natural state of being. 

Spencer smiled as his team warmed to you, though he was quick to pull you to him with a gentle arm around the waist. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Derek, that man was practically his brother, he’d taken bullets for the guy, but he liked having you close, even if to just remind himself that you were all his, including said tattoo on your buttcheek that he’d seen plenty of times. 

The team didn’t need to know that, but you could tell your words had reminded him of it as he pressed a shy kiss behind your ear.

He was careful to avoid the studs and links that glittered from your ear lobe, wrapping over the cartilage on your helix, though he loved to stare at them on nights where you tied your hair up and he could count every one of them. To him you were a work of art, complex and detailed with every glance he stole. You were an illustration in one of his many books, everything he imagined for himself times a million. 

“I’m going to go get a drink, do you want one?” You said, looking up at him with puppy eyes, like a lovestruck teenager, fat adoration in your gaze. It oozed out of every inch of you, and JJ thought for a moment that you looked nothing like the scary doberman woman that Spence had originally brought over to meet them. You looked in love, the saccharine, soft and dazed kind of in love. 

“Let me get it for you,” Spencer rooted around his pocket for his wallet, turning to see Morgan’s beer bottle running low, “You having another one?”

“I’m good, my man, you just sort yourself and your lady out,” Derek flashed him a thousand watt smile and clapped him on the shoulder as you entwined your fingers with his, pulling him through the cluster of people and towards the bar, “What a stud,” 

Penelope giggled again, leaning towards her adonis best friend with honeyglow cheeks, watching their genius get led like a dog on a leash. 

“Oh lover boy had got it bad,” She drawled, watching Reid, their Reid, develop an uncharacteristically protective stance as a few men at the bar shot looks up and down your body. She couldn’t blame them either, you were a sight for sore eyes. “Okay, so do I have to be the first one to point out how hot she is or have I maybe had one too many margaritas?” 

“She seems nice,” JJ chose her words carefully, still not entirely sure she would have ever put the two of you together but she saw the way Spence’s eyes got round and longing when he looked over you. He’d clearly said something to make you laugh, and an inked hand raised up to brush his chocolate curls out of his face lovingly, “She seems good for him,”

A murmur of agreement ran through the four of them, Emily taking one more sip of her martini as her eyes roved over your figure returning with something fruity and colourful, “Anyone else dying to know what’s on her ass?” 

-