#i even specifically changed bags before i showed up in the hopes someone would ask and i would be able to talk about either bill and ted

[shawnxstyles]

free session

DATE: AUGUST 8, 2023

summary: tom hurts himself a little at the gym, but luckily, you’re there to reassure him that everything’s fine. when he finally comes back, you decide to show him what a free session is all about.

request: yup!!

words: 7k

warnings: SMUT (slight praise kink, protected sex, dirty talking), language. this was a quick one

note: okay so i don’t do threesomes lmao, but i didn’t state that until after i got this request (this request is 8 months old i’m sorry). i chose to do tom, but i changed a lot, so i’m sorry if this isn’t even what you asked for at all… i hope someone likes it | NOT EDITED

gym!tom x trainer!reader

—

Tom had a steady routine; he went to the gym in the morning, ate, did his day plans or work, ate again, and then went to the gym at night again. Some people thought he was insane for going to the gym so much, but it felt like his second home. Mainly because the gym was his brother’s, Harry.

Harry and Tom were unbelievably close; out of all their siblings, they were definitely the tightest. Tom assisted Harry with renting, paperwork, and anything he needed for his little business, which wasn’t so little anymore. Once he got popular in town, Tom let his brother handle himself after all his constant nagging. Then Tom was off doing his own thing, worrying about his own life and job. It got consistent, tedious, and boring to say the least.

But on a random summer day when Harry called Tom to deliver the bad news, Tom regrets ever thinking that his simple routine was boring.

“Tom, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to find a new gym.”

“What? Harry, what are you talking about?” Tom drops his gym bag on the floor of his apartment, stopping short with Harry’s words. He presses the phone up to his ear, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip.

“I didn’t tell you before, but all my “loyal” customers have fled to the new fitness center down the street. You know, the one by the café?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s only temporary. I need to refurbish and find some more sponsors, and then hopefully, I can reopen.”

Tom sighs slowly into the empty air of his home, looking up at the ceiling in distress.

“I was trying to figure out how to tell you—”

“It’s alright, Harry. I’m glad you told me now. I’ll just… find a new gym.”

“If you go to my competitor, I won’t blame you.”

Tom replies with a hefty laugh.

“It’ll only be temporary.”

So, that’s what Tom has been doing—going to his brother's competitor. However, it was only supposed to be for a few weeks. But it ended up being a few months. Tom’s adjusted to the new gym quite nicely. He likes the wide variety of machinery and how many options he has. When he first came in, he was using machines he’d never even seen before.

Even though his gym was switched up on him, Tom is a routine kind of guy. It only took him a week to adapt to his new environment and get comfortable with everything. He developed a new schedule for his morning workouts since he can no longer go to the gym in the evening. He wasn’t necessarily a morning person, but for the gym-induced high, he would do it.

He had a specific day for arms, legs, chest, back, shoulders—everything. Over the years, he’s done his research on the body, and even took anatomy in high school.

Did that even help him?

To say he’s gym-obsessed isn’t too much of an overstatement, even if Tom disagrees. He would say he’s obsessed with his dog, but not the gym. He refuses to put himself in the category of “gym-bros” and dumbasses that live off protein shakes. Yeah, he likes those shakes too, but he wouldn’t die if he had more than one cheat day in a week. Tom likes to live his life outside of the gym, unlike those people.

Tom worked an average job with a good salary, and relatively lived an average life with good people. He didn’t go out much because he didn’t have many people to hang out with besides his brothers. Harrison has been his best mate since high school, but with both of their work schedules colliding, it’s hard to find the time. Plus, he’s been way too busy planning his wedding.

Yeah, a wedding.

Tom’s not surprised by the fact that Harrison’s getting married. In fact, he’s not surprised at all. Of course he’s happy for his best friend. He’s just… envious in a subtle way. Both Tom and him are 28 years old, and while Harrison met the love of his life and is starting a future with her, Tom is yet to even date a girl for longer than a few weeks.

He’s been on dates here and there, even had a few one-night stands in the past year, but after some time, he just gave up completely. Sometimes, a girl will smile at him or look him up and down, but he doesn’t even try to pursue them like he used to. For the few times that he is out with his friends or brothers and a girl is all over him, he’ll take the opportunity and bring her home.

But it never goes farther than that. And Tom is afraid he’ll never have more than that.

Shaking off the terrible thoughts to start his morning, Tom walks through the glass doors of the gym. He passes the front desk and towards the clean machines that are practically calling his name. The barely rising sun can be seen through the huge window panes along the entire building, making the scene look peaceful.

There were a couple of bodies in the area, but besides the delicate music seeping through the speakers, it was quiet. To Tom, this was tranquil.

After a few simple stretches, Tom snatches the jump ropes. He jumps until his muscles are loose and warm and they’re just itching to be challenged. Today, he decided to do legs with an additional ab workout just because. He was a little extra energized, and he craved for his body to be sore. He doesn’t do this often, but he needs to change it up once in a while, right?

Tom goes straight towards the leg press, knowing that that machine will fire his legs up immediately. When he starts his reps, he already feels the burn. He knows today is going to push his limits, but he’s ready.

—

About halfway through his workout, he wants to give up. But he knows that’s exactly when you need to keep going.

He’s struggling with his squats, really trying to lift these three plates that are taunting him. He can do two easily, which means he has to add weight if he wants to actually gain and keep his muscles. He takes a deep breath before trying to squat for the second time. He slides the padded bar over his ready shoulders. The weight is dawning and plummeting his own body to the ground.

As he lowers his legs, squatting with the best of his abilities, his lower back aches immensely before he drops the bar onto the matted floor. The plates clang against each other in the relatively quiet gym

“Fuck,” he groans and chucks off his headphones, clutching his lower back near his tailbone. This is now the second time he’s failed, but the first time he’s felt this pain. It wasn’t a shooting, sharp pain, but it was aching enough to warn him that he was positioning himself wrongly.

“Are you okay?” A woman’s voice asks concerningly a few feet behind him. Tom turns around too quickly, making his back hurt a little more. He tries to hide his hiss behind clenched teeth when he sees you.

Your eyes were wide with worry and your head was slightly tilted. You were sporting a tight sports bra with matching shapely leggings. You had a towel dangling in your hand and a black shirt in the other. Maybe it was because of his small pain, but Tom couldn’t help dragging his eyes down your body in awe. He hisses at the sight unconsciously.

“I’m assuming that’s a no,” You squint your eyes with a slight tease as you walk up to him. Tom nods while also fixating in the present. He had a tendency to drift off into his head if his imagination wandered enough.

“Yeah, I think I hurt my bad a bit,” he smiles while trying to stretch by twisting left and right.

“Maybe I can help? If you’d like me to,” You offer as Tom stares at you. Your eyelashes are fluttering almost innocently, and Tom is beyond intrigued. He nods with a charming smile, one that you just had to reflect back. It was easily one of the most gorgeous smiles Tom has ever seen.

“Just so you know, I kind of work here. Well—I mean—I do work here. I’m just new,” You rambled. You were a bit nervous. You were a certified trainer, but you’ve never trained someone outside of your schooling. Yes, you’ve done family and friends, but not a stranger. A random stranger who actually needs your experience. You’re not sure how you landed a job at this seemingly high-end gym, but you never question the good things that happen anymore; you just let them happen.

“Good to know. Since you offered, I assume you know what you’re doing,” Tom teases and you roll your eyes playfully. He eased some of your nerves.

When you ask how he was squatting, he explains what he was doing and when and where the pain was occurring. You nodded along to his words, collecting all of it and connecting it to your knowledge. You come to a conclusion long before he’s done and gaze at his body. You know a lot about anatomy and you’ve seen a bunch of bodies throughout your life.

But staring at his ripped and sweaty body has you feeling all warm and tingly. The morning sunlight seems to shine perfectly over his perspiration, twinkling as a few drops slide between his rigid muscles.

“I think you strained your back,” You say simply without blinking right as he finished talking. You shake your head as if you weren’t just ogling his muscles. What is wrong with you? You were supposed to be a professional.

“Oh,” Tom finally says with a slight frown to his face.

“Does it hurt when you turn as well or just when squatting?”

“Mainly just squatting,” he answers.

“Okay,” You give him a once-over as if analyzing him. You were analyzing him, just not in a very professional way. There was nothing professional about how your eyes turned hungry as they gazed at his blessed figure. “The best thing to do is to not sit. Or stop what you’re doing basically. I would say no more squats for a while or anything that strikes pain. But don’t terminate all your exercise. That will actually make it worse.”

Tom nods along to all that you’re saying with understanding. Everything that you’re telling him makes perfect sense, so there was a good minute where he zoned out and just stared at you. Your matching set makes your skin look smooth and defines every curve of your body. The way your hands moved as you spoke had him mesmerized like he was under hypnosis.

“Got it?” You ask as a heat floods up your neck. Tom blinks rapidly and mumbles a yes, but he looks all too distracted. He didn’t hide well that he was staring at you, but he didn’t seem like he was trying to either.

“Is there anything else?” Tom questions as the air between you two gets tense, voice lower than before. Panting and echoing machines are all that are heard in the space around you. You swallow your sudden nervousness that was about to cough up a whine. You wondered if he wanted you to say something else.

Maybe he wanted you to confess. Confess something that you were both thinking, but you both didn’t know.

“N-No,” You slightly stutter out when you answer, smiling to try to cover this feeling that’s bubbling up inside of you.

“Well, I guess I’ll just do the treadmill before I head out.”

“Right. Sounds good. Have fun!” You ramble as he walks away, chuckling with each step he takes. You turn away and your smile instantly falls as you groan to yourself, “Have fun? Why did I say that?”

You run your hand over your face as you try to regain your lost pride. When you walk back into the coach’s area, you slip on your uniform shirt, so people are aware you actually work there. You take a deep breath and mentally slap yourself in the head for being so unprofessional. You barely just started working here and you’re already breaking rules! You’re not allowed to have relationships with your clients. Wait, that’s a rule, right? Now, that doesn’t make much sense…

But you know for certain that thinking about someone sexually after just meeting them, rule or not, client or not, it’s inappropriate. You’ve never looked at someone and just completely melted at the sight of them. You can’t stop picturing the way his leg muscles flexed as he carried the heavy weight of the squat bar. Or the way his cheeks reddened and hollowed out air as he pushed himself to stand up straight.

Although you watch and help people work out for a living, you’ve never found it entertaining. But for some reason, your mind is just so utterly fucked over by this random guy that you’ve never seen before. He looks like he’s been doing it a long time, especially with that figure. Has he been at this gym for a long time? He seems like he has.

Your mind likes to wander and wander as you do busy work and wait for the day to end. From your area, you weren’t able to see the front doors, so you never saw the stranger again that day. You assume he left soon after your departure, but you wish that you saw him just once more. Maybe you’d get the confidence to catch his name and even offer a session. Free of charge, you imagine yourself saying accidentally because you’d be so distracted.

Throughout your shift you helped a few people and even assisted in the group exercise class. Though, you loved when you had one on one trainings the most because you got to see your client grow their strengths and their weaknesses.

As your shift came to an end, you collected your bag with a heavy sigh. It was only the afternoon, but of course you didn’t have any plans. You had spent a year working to become a certified trainer, but brought no one with you along the way. You took a gap year when high school ended to try to figure out what you wanted to do, and then you discovered training and you felt comfortable. You had some friends, but none were strong enough to stay with you. It was really just you, with the occasional hangout with your older sister who lectured you sometimes.

You felt lonely sometimes, but it’s not like you really tried to fix it either. You went out every blue moon, waiting for some magical miracle to occur. Nothing sprouts; no love, sex, relationship, or friendship spawned at your feet when you’re out late at night in a bar or club. So, you kind of just stopped going. Was it sad to say you kind of lost hope in dating and sex?

Besides the point, when you entered your apartment, you were alone. Just like most days when you weren’t busy researching ways to start a business.

Oh, was that mentioned?

You wanted to start your own business with your certification. However, it was hard because you had little to no experience in business. Your dad knew good tips and tricks, but he wasn’t experienced enough either. And since you were quite lonely, you hadn’t made many connections to people that might have loads of talent in the field.

One day, you would actually talk to someone, you swore. And they would help make your dreams of a business come to life. It’s not that you didn’t believe in yourself to make it happen; it was more than a reasonable goal. It’s just that you’re so unmotivated right now because of your lack of connections.

Ugh, why does life have to be so difficult?

—

Tom wakes up early with groggy eyes and a sore back. He had done some research online last night on how to sleep with a strained back. He was told to lay on his side with a pillow stuffed between his knees. But of course when he woke up in the morning, his body was flailed across his mattress like an eagle, pillows completely disregarded from him.

When he tried to sit up too quickly, a sharp pain erupted in his back, making him sit right back in the bed. Maybe he should just take his time like the woman at the gym said…

You were slightly disappointed you didn’t see the good-looking stranger again on your shift. You shamelessly glanced around the machinery, hoping to recognize his bulky shoulders and defined muscles, but they were nowhere to be found.

You got to see a few good bodies, but there was something about that stranger that just made your insides tingle.

Again, so unprofessional. This is why you can’t start a damn business!

—

Tom didn’t go to the gym for a week. A week!

His back was just in too much pain and lifting heavy weights sounded tortuous. He still went to work and went on evening walks with his dog, but he felt pretty lazy. He forced himself to take a week off of the gym to heal, and thankfully it worked. His mind kept lingering to the pretty woman who talked to him, but he kept excusing it with his pain. He must only be thinking of you because you gave advice he needs to remember, right?

By the next week, Tom was already back in the gym. He walked through those glass doors again, quickly checked in, and headed towards the machinery. He moved slowly as his eyes subconsciously tried to find you again. Tom had this… need to tell you that he’s okay and that your advice worked. Again, it was just an excuse, so he could talk to you again. Maybe he would see your name tag this time, or just ask for it blatantly.

He makes a quick once-over of the area, and is a bit disappointed when he doesn’t see you lingering. He goes straight towards the jump rope to refresh his muscles that have been resting for one of the longest times since high school.

Tom jumps and jumps and jumps… and then nearly falls over when he sees you turn around after doing a squat. The curve of your ass in those leggings made his mouth water and your charming smile made him crazy.

Before he knows it, you’re approaching him while he’s completely phased.

“Hey, I see that you made it back. How is your… back?” You ask, squeezing the towel in your hand with an intense grip. Your heart started fluttering a little from just the sight of him, and you wondered why you were getting so worked up over a stranger.

“It’s all good now! I think,” Tom chuckles while rubbing his neck. He nervously twists the rope between his fingers, trying to think of a way to keep the conversation going. “I, uh, never caught your name.”

Your heart skips a beat and a smile threatens to take over your face. It was such a little thing, but you’ve been wondering what his name was for the past week. A name to a face to fit your fantasies.

“Y/N,” You smile, but your eyes struggle to meet his face. He was just so gorgeous you felt like you might be blinded if you looked too long. “And you?”

“Tom,” he surely answered with a nod.

“That fits you very well.”

“What do you mean?” he questions and your eyes go a little wide. You hadn’t meant to say that. It sounds creepy and weird; to say that his name fits him… as if you were thinking about him.

“Well—like—I was wondering what your name was when I first talked to you and now that you said it, it makes sense. Not that I was thinking about you all week or something… that’s just creepy!” You awkwardly laugh after your ramble, thinking of the fastest way to leave this conversation so you can regroup. This is why your dating life is so shallow. You can’t hold a conversation for a second without rambling out nonsense or making a fool of yourself. It’s typical, really.

You thought he was going to laugh at you like a bully and walk away from your weirdness. But instead, he softly chuckles at your antics while staring at your face. Noticing that he’s still standing in front of you, you slowly drag your eyes up his body until you finally meet his eyes.

They’re that perfectly golden brown color that looks like oozing honey when reflected off the sun. Since you were only a foot away, you could see his nose was a little crooked and he had an uneven eyebrow. His hair seemed a bit unruly, but all you wanted to do was run your hands through it.

“I’ve been wondering what your name was, too,” he finally admits when the air around you feels like it’s closing in. Your heart was beating as if something was going to happen, but you knew nothing would. Nothing was going to happen in front of all of these people.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Tom hums as he watches your pupils dilate and eyes struggle to look at him. He’s been thinking about you all week, he can admit that, but now you can’t even look at him? He wanted to see your pretty eyes. “I’ve been wondering about a few other things as well.”

“Oh? Like what?” Your voice was slightly breathless and you felt the need to check over your shoulder every second. You felt like you were breaking some rule and you were able to be fired on the spot. It felt so wrong, but you wanted to see where this goes. You were all too intrigued by this glorious man before you.

“Like why you can’t look at me.”

“What? I’m looking at you!”

“Not longer than a blink.”

“S-So? Do you want to have a staring contest or something?” You bite your tongue when you stutter.

“Maybe. I just want to see your pretty eyes,” Tom didn’t plan on calling your eyes pretty right off the bat, but his bluntness is what made you finally look up at him. He saw innocence as well as desire laced within your irises. And he wondered if you really had been thinking about him all week. If you had, that would confirm that you want more. It would confirm that Tom isn’t crazy, and that there is some type of spark in between you too.

Will a one-time thing, like sex, dull the craving spark, or ignite it?

“We can’t here,” You say barely above a whisper.

“Do what? A staring contest?” Tom begins to smirk causing you to groan. He’s got to be one of the cockiest people you’ve ever met, but he has every right to be. Usually, you hate men that know they’re attractive because their cockiness just makes them an asshole. But Tom is the funny type, who pretends to be cocky, but he’s actually really humble.

How did you get all of that from only two conversations with him? And they were barely conversations!

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually. Care to tell?”

“You want…” You can see the way he tries to hide his growing smirk and it tells you all you needed to know. The air thickened between you both, heavy with tension and heat. Your heart was racing and your stomach burned in a way that pushed your courage over the edge. You’ve needed something like this for a long time, you just never knew how long you actually needed it. “You want me to give you a session!”

Tom clicked his tongue at your teasing, slightly chuckling. You blinked your eyes as you flashed your fraud innocence at him.

“What does the session include?” His voice was low and deep. There was a certain rumble in his tone that made your legs feel like jelly and your mind go blank.

“I-I can show you. Let’s go in the back,” You try to remain as playful as possible, but you were absolutely losing it. You just wanted him to take control and kiss you as hard as possible; to do the unimaginable. Of course, the horniest you’ve ever been in your whole life is at work of all places. There’s no way there isn’t a rule about having sex in the gym. You’re sure people have done it before, but never employees. That had to have been prohibited.

But your desire is taking control of all your actions right now as you lead Tom through the gym and into your miniature office. Since you were relatively new, your office was in the back of the gym in a little room. The other offices for the more experienced trainers were near the front and were wide open to the public. You didn’t like how your space was so far away from everything because it made you feel disconnected, but right now, you’ve never been more grateful.

As you guide him into your office, you shut the door and push in the lock. You had a small wooden desk with a single picture frame and a laptop. A few different papers lie across, but you’re quick to stack them and slot them in the first drawer. When you stand back up, Tom is closer to you than ever, hovering right over you.

Your heart rate increases exponentially as his hungry eyes pierce your soul. Your impulses want to rip his shirt dramatically off of his torso, so you can run your hands all along his sweaty, ripped stomach. You’d make sure to kiss every centimeter of skin before landing on your knees for him. You’re almost positive you’d do anything he’d ask. Before you can even blink, he’s leaning in, cutting the distance and inching closer to your weekly fantasy.

“So what do I get?” His voice was breathy as his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips. You couldn’t help but do the same.

“Anything. Anything you want,” You respond way too quickly, your desperation spilling out from you. Out of instinct, you took a step back from him, making your back bump into the wall. He was crowding your space as much as he could without actually touching you. And it was utterly killing you.

“What a generous trainer,” he placed his hand delicately on the wall next to your head. “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

“Only the fittest,” Your lustfulness made you brutally honest as if you had chugged truth serum. “But no, I’ve never… brought anyone back here before.”

“The first and the fittest. I might just have to book a session.”

“Luckily, a spot just opened. You can have it,” Your eyes meet him again. The second he sees your eyelashes flutter up, there’s nothing stopping him from kissing you. Not the tension, not the voices in his head, not the fear of someone knocking on the door asking for you.

Tom’s lips crash against yours in an eager kiss, lips melting together from the heat you’ve built up. It’s sweet and it’s salty, but it’s fulfilling that nagging ache you’ve wanted cured all week long. Your hands immediately find their way to his luscious curls, lacing your fingers through them just like you imagined. His rough-textured hand cups your jaw, angling you directing into his mouth when he slots a bit of his tongue inside.

His body presses forward against yours, rock-hard, stiff, and hot. The feeling of his heaviness and warmth was even better than you had conjured up in your crazy, little head. His rhythm was easy to rock with, and your body gravitated towards his. You whimpered into his mouth when his growing bulge poked the bottom of your tummy. Tom took that as a sign and popped off of your mouth. He trailed his wondrous mouth down your pulsing neck, causing you to stab your teeth into your lip to keep quiet.

Tom kissed and nibbled your skin without a care of who might see the marks. He didn’t know what would happen after all of this, but he wanted you to have at least one memory when it was all over. When reached your collarbone, he forced himself off of you.

“What do you want?” he grumbled.

“W-What? I don’t know! Anything, just do something, please.”

“You’re the trainer. You’re supposed to tell me what to do, no?” Tom’s teasing sends a tingle down your stomach that hits you straight in between your legs. “Do y’want me to fuck–”

“God, yes. Do anything, please,” You groaned, trying not to sound too desperate, but it was difficult when that’s all you were.

“Alright, alright, don’t worry.”

Tom pushed himself off of your body to remove his shirt. His glorious body was perfectly defined by his packed muscles wrapped in his tan skin. His skin looked so smooth, like a silky blanket. Your impulses got the best of you and before you could even think, they were roaming his god-like figure with curiosity.

“How are you so fit? Who is your trainer and how can I learn from them?” You question both jokingly and seriously. When he laughs, you can feel it vibrate through your fingertips and it makes you feel all fuzzy.

“I train myself, but I know some great cardio exercises I’d be willin’ to show you,” he winks as his hand lands on your hip. It was your turn to laugh now, your voice breaking the tight tension.

“Please,” You begged, tugging both of his hands toward you. It was your way of saying that he could do whatever he wanted now. “Go ahead.”

So he did. You removed your tennis shoes and then he yanked down your leggings. You were so needy at this point you didn’t even bother to discard your snug bra. If anything, you’re going to need its security with all the movement you’re about to do (hopefully).

His hands grabbed the hem of your leggings until they were completely off of your legs. You’re left in your soaking thong while he’s still in his loose gym shorts. Tom doesn’t waste another second because he’s growing just as impatient as you. He can feel himself twitching in his briefs, craving for a satisfaction that only you can seem to sedate.

Without a warning, Tom cups your mound with delicacy, fingers pressing against your aching hole. The gasp you let out is unwavering as your cunt clenches around nothing but your own desperation. He scrunches his palm, rubbing your underwear as you soaked through the fabric.

“Can feel that you’re soaking, darling,” Tom husks beside your ear, sending shocks of heat down your spine. You’ve never been so turned on in your life from someone, especially because of a deep, sensual accent like his. “Did I do this?”

“Yes, yes. All for you,” You nearly whined, but you withheld it with a strain. “Please just fuck me already.”

“What’s the rush, love? Got somewhere to be?” he taunted. You didn’t have anywhere to be and he seemed to know that. He was lucky you didn’t have any clients today or have any appointments. It was like the perfect coincidence that this occurred on this day. You’re grateful for the fate of the universe as he slips his hand into your panties to lace his fingers within your wetness.

“So fucking wet, love,” he grumbled so low you could barley hear it.

“I need it, please,” This is the most submissive you’ve ever been. You can’t recall a time where you have ever been this wet or needy for another man. There’s just something incredibly alluring about the man about you, rock-hard body and all.

“What do you need? Do you need me to put my finger in your tight, little hole? I bet it would just slide right in.”

“Fuck, Tom,” You growled in sexual frustration. His mouth spilled utter filth, but you were loving it. You felt the very tip of his finger nudging inside of you, causing your walls to clutch tightly. “I need you to fuck me. Please. No teasing.”

With an ever-growing smirk, Tom slips his hand out of your underwear and glides the material down your jelly-like legs. Your eyes never leave his hands, too scared to meet his intimidating eyes. You watch him with curiosity and desire as he tucks his thumbs in the waistband. His briefs come into your view and your eyes widen when you see the impressive bulge outline.

You swallow, intimidated by his size, especially since you haven’t had sex in a decent amount of time. He hasn’t even pulled down his underwear yet and you’re already frothing at the mouth.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I, um,” Your eyes wander around to your purse on the floor by your desk and you quickly bend down to pop it open. In one of your secret pockets, there is a nicely wrapped condom. “Here. I hope it fits.”

Tom laughs as he tugs his briefs down with ease. “You’re not good for my ego.”

You wanted to laugh in response, but you were too distracted by his cock. Mesmerizingly, you gaze at his hand stroking his veiny length, seemingly as desperate as you with pre-cum leaking at the tip.

Instead of grabbing the condom from your hand, Tom says, way too gravelly, “I want you to do it.”

So, with shaky hands and doe-eyes, you rip open the package and slide on the latex. The look on your face can easily make it seem like you’ve never even seen a dick before. But now looking at Tom’s, it feels like all the others are down the drain.

Within seconds, Tom has you back against the wall, one hand resuming beside your head and the other on your hip. Your heart jumped and pussy throbbed, waiting for him to break the lustful barrier in between you two.

“Ready?”

“Y-Yes,” You whimper as the head of his cock glides along your thighs before sliding in between them. Your arousal soaks the condom as he grips one of your legs, hoisting you up and around his waist. Your arms instantly wrap around his neck for security as your leg connects to him like a koala.

With one leg on the floor, you try to maintain your balance as he finally thrusts into you. You both collectively groan in sexual satisfaction, finally having your craving fulfilled. When you thought he had pushed all the way in, Tom pumps deeper inside of you, causing you to squeal.

“Shh, darling. Don’t want anyone to hear us fucking in your office, do you?” Your moans contradict his request, but you can’t help it. His hips were flicking up into you so fucking deliciously, and you couldn’t stop yourself from bucking right back into him. “Or maybe you do. You want someone to walk in and see one of their trainers getting their brains fucked out?”

“M-Maybe,” You couldn’t lie, the idea was enthralling. The idea and his dirty words made your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it, almost as if he’d studied this.

“But I don’t want to get fired,” You whined a little too loudly.

“Well, then you better be a good girl and quiet down.”

In order to obey his demand, you brought one of your hands to cover your mouth. You allowed yourself to moan in your palm when his pace increased and he bottomed out completely. You could feel yourself fluttering around his cock as he rammed into you like no tomorrow.

His free hand traveled down to your clit and circled the throbbing bud with roughness. You shrieked against yourself, clenching tightly around his thick cock to compensate. Blindly, you are clawing at the skin on his neck and chest. Still, even when he was deep inside of you, you were terrified to look into his dark eyes.

With every thrust, you felt the way his muscles contracted against you. You felt and heard the way you drenched his cock even more with the sight. His muscles and body were the first thing that caught your eye about him to begin with, so you’re not totally surprised that you’re dripping from that.

He looks like a model. A statue. A god.

Small beads of sweat began to form on his abdomen, glazing down his chunks of muscle as he jammed harder into you. Your head hit the wall hard in ecstasy when he lowered himself to your neck and nibbled right below your ear. Every breath and groan that slipped from his mouth just sent you into overdrive and made you insane.

“I’m close,” You breathily warned, squeezing your leg tightly around him to push him even deeper. Tom groaned loudly on accident, too overpowered by the feeling of you.

“Wish I could hear your sweet sounds,” Tom mumbles as he pinches the top of your thighs to make you squeal. He resumes his attention on your clit, so he can distract himself from coming, because he knows he’s milliseconds away from absolutely losing it. “I know you’d sound so pretty screaming my name.”

“Tom,” You whimpered instead, eyes screwing closed. Your back began arching towards his buff chest and your breathing was becoming more rapid, indicating that your release was right around the corner. “I’m coming, shit.”

“Let go, love. C’mon, know you need it,” his lovely accent guided you through it with gravel encouragement. With another skillful rock of his cock, you were coming until you saw stars. Literally. Your eyes were closed so tightly that you saw little white specks in your vision. “There you go.”

Tom took that as his sign to finally relieve himself. As his thrust got sloppier, he helped you through it. With a fist to the wall and head in your shoulder, he came harshly in the condom.

Your body squirmed in his hold, already too sensitive. He gently let you stand on both feet, keeping you steady as you regained your balance. He removed the condom, tied it, and tossed it in the garbage.

“I can take out y’trash if you want me to,” Tom offered as you both slipped on your clothes. The humidity in the room seemed higher than ever, and then to put your clothes back on was just torturous.

“It’s alright, it’s not like anyone will go through it,” You reassured as you struggled to pull up your sticky leggings.

There was a moment of silence that made your heart rate pick up.You were both fully dressed and there was nothing stopping him from walking out. What was he thinking? Was he trying to find the best way to leave without being mean?

“I—” You both spoke at the same time, a flush burning your skins.

“Go ahead,” You insisted, too nervous and impatient for his response. He probably never wanted to see you again and that was fine, this was just a one-time thing that you will be thinking about occasionally. Or every day.

“Okay,” Now, Tom couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. He felt a tad nervous all of sudden as if he’d never talked to a girl before. He’s done this stuff loads of times, but he can’t help but get flustered like a school boy. “Can I… have your number? You can totally say no—”

“Yes,” You probably responded way too quickly, but you didn’t care. He wanted your number and you weren’t going to waste a second pretending to think about it. A smile grows on his face that was even bigger than his devilish smirk from earlier. “What does this mean?”

If you didn’t ask him, you would’ve been regretting it forever. You knew you wouldn't have had the courage to text him that question. What if he never even texted you, and he was just asking for your number to be nice?

“It means I’m going to text you.”

“Okay, well, thanks for clearing that up for me,” You rolled your eyes, but at least he was honest.

“Maybe ask you out too.”

“Really?” Your heart jumped on a trampoline in your chest, excitement bubbling up within you. You have been on a date in about a year, and Tom seems like a wet dream come true. You thought that maybe he wanted a friends with benefits arrangement, but a date? Is this real life?

“Yeah, if that’s something you want—”

“Yes,” You probably responded way too quickly, but you didn’t care. He wanted to take you on a freaking date and you weren’t going to waste a second pretending to think about it.

You did give him a free cardio session. The least he can do is take you out, right? What’s better than a free cardio session? Free food!

—

thanks for reading, this isn’t my favorite thing i’ve ever written because it felt a bit forced… so sorry about that 😭

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fics #tom holland fan fics #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fic #tom holland gifs

[hazelsmirrorball]

Undercover Spider-Woman | Hazel Callahan

Spider-woman! Hazel Callahan x fem! Reader, loser! Hazel x Fem! Reader Summary:  PJ decides to do a Fight Club Halloween Party and Hazel has no choice but to wear her superhero costume.  Warnings: english isn’t my main language, not proof-read,fighting, spicy? a/n: first bottoms imagine! Hope you guys like it, I’ll probably do more parts and I might do more Hazel one shots! I really hope I’m not shadow banned! Thank you

part two

October 31s, Halloween. A perfect excuse for teenagers to get drunk out of their minds while dressing up without being judged. Couples would go in matching costumes or go to haunted houses. Little kids would go trick or treating and the fight club, well they were making this halloween one to remember.  Usually people would hang out, go to parties but since this year October 31st came around a week day, those plans were out of the picture. Plus adding to the fact that none of them were that popular to be invited to a party , excluding Brittney, Isabel and Y/n. The fight club, specifically PJ, made it their mission to make this halloween one for the books.  

Hazel could hear the faint music playing from inside the gym as she paced back and forth debating if it even was a good idea to stumble in these conditions. She could risk everything she had been hiding so well since sophomore year for a party. Hazel took a deep breath taking her mask off and pushing it inside her bag as she felt her bangs covering her face.  She anxiously licked her lips feeling the metallic flavor overpowering her tongue as she hesitated to push open the big gym doors. Her glove covered hands hovered against the door as she thought if it was a good idea to go inside in the first place. 

What was PJ’s wonderful idea of making Halloween one for the books, you may ask? Fight Club with costumes. She made it her mission to sell the idea really well, but who wouldn’t like to have girls fighting in slutty costumes, heaven on earth,or  at least that’s what  PJ said. 

Hazel didn’t have anything against the party, she loved the idea of hanging out with her friends on halloween. She finally clicked with a group of friends good enough to celebrate a holiday together. Hazel was ecstatic, she had made it her mission to make the perfect Anakin Skywaker costume, which she had succeeded perfectly. She had slept the night before with her costume freshly dry cleaned next to her.  But her plans got destroyed when Green Goblin decided to show up and ruin her day by turning the city into his playground. Who would’ve known that Halloween was going to be a crime filled day. Hazel had managed to leave everything in perfect conditions  with ease leaving  just in time for the party. But just not in time for her to change out of her suit into her Anakin costume. 

So that’s how she found herself waiting outside of the gym doors in her spider woman suit. Her face was covered in bruises from the fight before and her hair was sweaty and messy due to it being stuck in her suit for a long time.  It wasn’t that she looked bad in her suit, it gave her power, made her unrecognizable. She wasn’t that nerdy little girl that people would stomp over. She was a badass that saved the world. She was a good superhero and she looked good doing her job. The red and blue suit would drive people crazy. She had even caught PJ and Josie gushing over her on a daily basis, but what if it slipped? 

The suit wasn’t one of those cheap costumes you could find in a store for under 30 dollars. It was a high tech suit that could kill someone in an instant and wearing that suit for a fight club meeting drove her insane. She worried on a daily basis that she could easily murder a girl with a blink of an eye, but now, with her suit on, it just made things even more difficult. Wall crawling,  superhuman strength, speed, reflexes, spider senses, spiderwebs and healing factors, all open for everyone to see. 

Hazel took one last breath while pushing the doors open. She let out a cough as smoke filled her nostrils, taking her by surprise. As she looked around, she noticed the usual bright lights of the gym were now red while smoke came from a smoke machine not far away from the door. Hazel chuckled, feeling the nerves quickly ease off, as she looked at her friends standing near a makeshift snack table. PJ did outdid herself. 

“Well look who decided to finally show up... Wait, is that the costume you made? Dude I actually thought you were going to do a crappy Anakin costume like last year. You have improved so much, this shit is so fucking cool, way better than the store one’s”   PJ said as she pushed down her sunglasses to take a better look. Hazel let out a nervous chuckle thinking of what words to say, but nothing came out. She looked at PJ taking in her costume, noticing the familiar men and black, lanyard hanging from her black suit pocket. 

“It makes you look super hot, Hazel! You even have an ass!” Sylvie exclaimed, taking off her scream mask while biting onto her fake knife. Hazel blushed, hiding her face behind her hands. If she had one more comment directed her way she was going to lose it. 

“No, but like PJ is right. This looks really good. How did you even make this look so good?  It looks like the real thing.” Josie added as she circled Hazel around taking in her costume. Hazel's eyes wandered as she shook her head, scoffing. 

“Please, how would you even know what it looks like, if you haven’t seen the real one.” Hazel said as she took a cup of punch gulping it down to ease her nerves. She wasn’t going to outlive this night.

“Because Y/n bought a Spider-Woman costume and it looks like shit compared to yours. No offense, Y/n. Your ass still looks good though.  ” PJ yelled, pointing at Y/n, who was standing a few feet away from her. 

Her body was adorned with a tight low quality version of the suit Hazel was wearing. But Hazel found herself staring in awe, not being able to move one bit. Hazel scanned every inch of Y/n Osborn's body taking a mental picture of her to remember in the future. 

Y/n Osborn had been Hazel’s crush ever since she understood what liking someone more than friends meant. She was Hazel’s everything, yet she wasn’t aware of that. They shared countless classes together but Hazel couldn’t even address her without turning into a nervous wreck. Fight Club had changed Hazel’s opportunities, when she had seen Y/n walk through those gym doors, she knew that at least a friendship would come out and she wasn’t completely wrong. Y/n did talk to Hazel, but Hazel didn’t talk back. She managed to mumble responses but that was about it. When it came to Y/n, Hazel felt like she was never bitten by a radioactive spider and that she was the same loser she had been all her life. 

But now seeing her in that outfit, wearing her iconic colors. Her hair moved softly because of the wind that came from the smoke machine. The red light outlining her body made Hazel go insane, she really was not surviving October 31st but if she didn’t she was going to leave with that image of Y/n engraved in the back of her head. 

“Shut up, PJ! It’s not my fault that this was the only thing that they were selling.I didn’t know that Hazel was going to show up in a better quality looking costume. I thought it looked good in the costume” Y/n muttered as she placed down a bag full of candy on the table. Brittany tapped her back for support as the rest of the girls looked back and forth between the two Spider-woman costumes. 

“You know what! Since we are all here, let’s get to business” Josie said as she walked towards the makeshift fighting mat that was in the middle of the gym. The girls followed close behind leaving Y/n and Hazel near the table. Y/n leaned down as searched for something in her bag which didn’t go unnoticed by Hazel. She took a deep breath quickly biting her lip before she could say something that could worsen the situation. As she looked for a notebook and a pen for notes, her eyes never left Y/n’s body. She took all the strength in her body to walk towards her and place her hand on Y/n’s lower back leaning with her. Hazel lips lightly grazed on her ear as she felt Y/n’s body tensed as she gripped harder on the thing she was searching for in her tote bag. 

“I think you look fucking hot in that costume.” Hazel responded by tapping her back and moving away towards the group of girls like nothing. Y/n gulped, taken aback by Hazel’s actions not used to this side of her. She cleared her throat jogging towards the girls sitting in between Josie and Sylvie, avoiding the hungry look Hazel was giving her. If Hazel knew that wearing the suit with Y/n was going to change the way she acted with her, she would’ve worn it to school years ago. 

“Well, let’s make this fun. Spider-Woman vs. Cheap Spider-girl” PJ exclaimed pushing Hazel out of her thoughts as she noticed Y/n groan and get up glaring at her. Hazel followed standing in front of her, but different from the other times she fought with her, she didn’t break eye contact with her sending her a cocky smile.

"Could you please drop it already, PJ? I get it, it's a shitty costume" Y/n muttered, as she sent a glare towards PJ, trying to avoid Hazel's haunting gaze. 

PJ shook her off, wiggling her eyebrows while pointing towards Hazel. Y/n quickly adverted her eyes towards her noticing how Hazel slipped her mask on up to her nose making it possible for her to see her pearly whites. Y/n raised an eyebrow, confused by the sudden change in Hazel’s actions, used to the girl being deadly afraid of looking her in the eye. The girl that was used to being a blushing mes with her stood tall smirking down at her. Before Y/n could even process what was going let alone swing a punch, she felt her body smash against the floor, her body being pinned down by Hazel. 

Hazel's thighs pinched her into place making it impossible for her to move. Hazel hands pushed Y/n's hands on top of her head as she leaned towards her. Hazel’s chain slowly moved up and down Y/n’s face as she struggled to get Hazel's body off hers, she had done it before, why was it so hard now? Seeing Hazel in this new angle made her nervous. Her once sweet eyes were full of something Y/n couldn’t describe, Hazel’s agitated breaths made her loose concentration as her masked eyes scanned her face with a proud grin on her face. She wanted to punch that cocky grin out of her face.

“Oh, see, the cheap costume is losing. Punch her already, Hazel! End her.” PJ exclaimed, clapping, making Hazel chuckle. The other girls yelled at Hazel encouraging her to finish the job. Maybe it was the sudden glory she felt, the suit, the hollers and Y/n being under her in her suit, made Hazel feel like one of her dreams was finally coming through. The things she kept hidden in her bedroom was finally happening. 

Y/n noticed how Hazel was far gone taking advantage off this already pissed out of her mind. Y/n wrapped her leg around Hazel’s waist taking her by surprise. She quickly took over turning them around making Hazel face the floor while Y/n straddled her. She leaned towards her, her lips grazing softly over her cheek. 

“I think I like this position better.” She said softly into Hazel's ear, making her warm inside. Hazel wasn’t going to lie and say that she didn’t like this position, but she felt powerful with the suit. She was going to be on top. Hazel with ease pushed Y/n off her straddling her once again, smiling at her. 

“I guess a little change doesn’t hurt once in a while.”  She responded by making Y/n roll her eyes. 

“Hey! Stop with the porno and hit each other already” Sylvie yelled making Hazel punch Y/n straight in the nose.

“Fuck!” Y/n yelled, holding onto her nose as blood started trailing out like a water stream. Hazel quickly got off her, her once confident persona slipping away. As  she slipped the mask off she could see how Y/n stood up coughing the blood out of her lips. 

“Shit, Hazel! We didn’t tell you to kill her” Josie exclaimed, helping Y/n up. She shakes her shrugging it off. 

“It’s okay! I’m usually the one that beats Hazel. I guess tonight was her comeback” Y/n said laughing softly as she stopped the blood flowing with a piece of Isabel shirt she had managed to rip off.  Hazel knew it wasn’t fine and that she could’ve killed Y/n if she hit her just a little bit harder.

 “I’ll take her to the bathroom. Help her clean up while you guys continue. Keep the party going” Hazel managed to get out as she took Y/n away from Josie’s grasp leading her to the bathroom. 

Y/n stayed quiet as she sat on the sink whilst Hazel nervously cleaned her probably broken nose. A smile adorned her lips when she noticed that Hazel wouldn’t dare to look at her, her Hazel was back. 

“Why are you smiling?” Hazel asked, dropping the tissues of the trash can watching the bloody mouth smiling towards her. 

“I was worried that my nervous little Hazel was gone, but I guess she’s back. Got worried for a second. ” She replied as she inspected Hazel. Hazel turned away blushing as she leaned against the door behind her, nearly falling back. 

“I’m really sorry about your nose. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard” Hazel replied quickly while gaining her balance. Y/n shook her off while getting down from the sink. 

“It’s no problem, finally you stopped being soft with me. I was starting to believe you didn’t want to hit my pretty little face” She replied sarcastically as she headed towards Hazel. Her hand pushed off the bangs from her face making her see Hazel’s features better. Y/n slowly moved closer to her but stopped dead in her tracks when both her and Hazel's phone vibrated. She quickly moved away looking at her phone while Hazel cleared her throat looking at hers, seeing the notification that Green Goblin was on the loose. 

“I really need to go! But please text me if you are feeling better! I really am sorry” She said quickly as she noticed Y/n also running towards the door. 

“Yeah, it’s no problem! I also have to go, my dad wants me to help him with work” Y/n said as she followed Hazel outside. Both of the girls looked at each other parting ways not knowing that in a few minutes they were going to face each other once again but this time to battle against death. 

part two

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #Hazel Callahan spiderwoman #spiderwoman #spiderman #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #kit tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos #imagines #oneshots #bottoms movie #josie x isabel #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #reader insert #hazel callahan reader insert

[weemsfreak]

Girl In Red (Lips)

Larissa Weems x Vampire Teacher

One shot I thought of as I was listening to Girl In Red

Fluffy ~2500 words

It was a Saturday night. Your favourite night. Not because you wanted to go out and party, although it has been awhile since you did. You liked how Saturday was a day to yourself, and the nights were usually stress free. Today though, or rather tonight, you were caught up in writing your masters thesis. Teaching at Nevermore and doing your masters at the same time was exhausting, but recently your students have been very well behaved and on the ball with things. Kind of suspicious.

You were writing your paper on The History of Shapeshifters. You were a vampire, so this topic related to your specialty, but it was a bit far out. You wanted to write your paper on something more rare in the outcast community, but this topic may have been chosen by you because you wanted to spend more time with a certain someone. You wanted to get to know her better, and you wanted to show her that you thought her specialty was rather interesting. You were an English teacher, so you always had to take the time to perfect your work, even though that was technically impossible. After researching and writing all day, you had questions about the biological part of shapeshifting. How did it work, specifically? How do you change formation? Do your cells change? You should know more about shifting, but you weren't the best at chemistry, although you had always found it fascinating. Luckily, Larissa took the same masters years ago, she was the English teacher at Nevermore before she became the principal. Obviously, she would be the best person to ask if you had any question at all. You looked to your phone, “Hmm 8pm, she shouldn’t be in bed yet.” You jumped from your bed and collected your bag with your laptop. Remembering that you were wearing shorts, an oversized sweater and slippers, you thought nothing of it as not many students would be out this time of night.

Arriving in the hall one over from her office, you hoped that she would be there. Her living quarters were attached to her office, so she basically didn't leave it. You paused in the hallway, you could hear music in the distance. You recognized the song, Girl In Red. "Girl In Red slaps, someone is cool" you mumbled to yourself. You continued walking toward Larissa's office and as you did the music got a bit louder. You stopped in front of her large wood doors, staring at yourself in the gold plaque. Is the music coming from her office? You leaned in close to the door, placing your ear against it. "I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips.." was playing inside, muffled by the doors. You went wide eyed and slapped your hand over your mouth so you wouldn't squeal out loud. Larissa is listening to Girl In Red! What? Is she...you know? You guessed there was no reason you would know, she doesn't have a partner that you knew of. Trying not to smile too big, you brought your hand up and knocked on her door. A few seconds later, the music stopped. You tried not to laugh, you probably embarrassed her. She opened the door slowly and smiled when she saw you. Still, you could see the nervousness on her face. Pretending you didn't just hear her music, you quickly said "Hi Larissa, sorry I'm visiting at this hour, I just wanted to ask you a few things for my paper! If you're free?" She opened the door to let you in and gestured for you to sit at the fire. She held up a bottle of red wine, "Would you like a glass Sansa?" Of course you did. You pulled out your laptop as she sat next to you, passing you the glass. "So, I just wanted to know how shapeshifting works, like chemically. Cells and stuff. I read about it online, but it's not explained well. I thought you could do a better job" you looked over to her, hopeful and all smiles. She was still in her makeup from the day and her hair was done up, but she was wearing a tan colored satin sleep set. You looked her up and down right quick, hoping she wouldn't notice. "Wait, is this your masters thesis?" "Yes" "You're writing it on shapeshifting?" You froze, suddenly you were the embarrassed one. You thought she already knew that was your topic, you hoped she didn't ask why. "Um, yes." Her face lit up and she smirked as she looked to the fire, taking a drink of her wine. "Okay, well I'll tell you all about it."

You tried so hard to write down everything she was saying, it was so interesting. You wanted to understand it all. She was so easy to listen to, her voice so soothing. Despite this, it was hard to listen when all you could do was watch her. You stared at her the whole time, trying to type while only glancing at your laptop. She talked with her hands and watched you the whole time she explained it. She was mesmerizing, she was smart, witty, clever, stunning, and her smile lit up the whole room, never mind the fire. At one point you stopped typing, you got too lost in watching her and didn’t process any information. "Sansa, are you okay?" she asked worried, you hadn't typed for the last minute. You snapped back into reality as you realized she stopped talking. "Oh, sorry Rissa, yes, continue." She told you everything she knew that she thought would be helpful. In the end you had pages of information. Finishing your third glass of wine you thanked her. "Thank you so much Larissa, this is all really good to know. How did you learn all of this?" Books of course, and obviously if you're a shapeshifter, you have a lineage. "Shapeshifting is so rare, its hard to find anything on it, but it's soo impressive" you batted your eyelashes at her, you were no longer thinking before you said things. She blushed as she giggled at you. "Well, thank you for listening to my rambling, love." You'd listen to her talk all day, any day. You shrugged your shoulders signifying that it was no big deal. You didn’t know what else to say, but you didn't want to leave. You put your laptop away, and turned to her. She smiled, "Another glass? Or do you have to go?" You thought about it, you weren't going to get anymore writing done tonight, fuck it. "Well I think I'm done writing for the night, so…" you held your glass out to her. She fill it and put more wood on the fire, then she sat next to you again.

You didn't know what to say, and you were drunk, so you got up and made your way to her balcony windows. "I have another question" you said confidently, trying not to giggle at the thought of the question. "Sure darling, what's up?" You held back a smile, you always loved when she called you darling or love, it was so cute. "What music were you listening to before I came in?" She bit her lip and her eyes went wide, she was embarrassed. She had thought maybe you hadn't heard, it wasn't that loud, was it? "Um, I think it was by Kings of Leon?" Good lie, you thought. "No, I know them, I don’t think it was." Apparently you were a good actress when you were drunk. You looked out the window, it was hard to keep your composure. "Oh, well I don't remember. Did you like what I was listening to?" You went over and sat next to her, closer this time. "Yes I did, it was something about not wanting to be a friend, but wanting to kiss…someone?" You took a sip of your wine, raising your eyebrows at her. She giggled, giving in. "Okay Sansa, so you listen to them too?" "Yes! I love Girl In Red" you said with a smile, laughing. She shook her read side to side, laughing at your state. You noticed her staring at you and you realized she must be looking at your fangs. You stopped smiling, maybe she wasn't comfortable with them. It was quiet for a couple minutes, then she asked you a question. "So, do you just like Girl In Red, or do you like…women?" she asked you quietly. Thank god, you didn't know if she'd ask or if you would have to. "I like women" you replied, as equally as quiet. It's not that you were ashamed of liking women, but you weren't out. Nobody in your life asked or really cared, and you didn’t have a partner either. She looked at you and her face told you all you needed to know. She was in the same situation as you. You smiled at her, "You too?" She looked down into her wine and chuckled, "Yes." You wanted to hug her, you were so happy for her. "Does anyone know that?" you asked her, not wanting it to be out in the open if she didn't want it to. "Not really, but I guess there was no reason for anyone to know." You knew what she meant, she didn't have a partner for as long as you've known her. You sat back on the couch, looking up to the ceiling. Larissa Weems likes women, well shit. This was the best news ever, but all in all, it didn't mean you had a chance with her. Your smile dropped, the hope that you partially had before, gone.

 You sat up and put your hand on hers, "Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't want them to know." She gave you a small smile, and turning to you so that your legs were touching, she looked you up and down. You didn't know why she did this, you weren't wearing anything even remotely nice. "Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked you, and you frowned, "No, you?" She pursed her lips and looked down again, "No." Why was she asking? Was she just curious or was this an invitation? She looked lonely, ashamed or disappointed maybe? There was something going on in her brain that she wasn't telling you about. She looked back up at you and you couldn't help but hug her when you looked into her big sapphire eyes. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close. You didn't know if you did this for her or you, but it felt so comforting. She hesitated at first, then wrapped her arms around you and pulled you closer. You smiled at her soft touch, she smelled of vanilla. Her scent reminded you of something from your childhood, it was so inviting, so pleasing. You didn't want to make it weird, so you pulled away after a minute, even though you would've stayed in her embrace all night. When you released her and went to sit back, she grabbed you and held you close to her body. You sat there, face so close to hers. You didn't know why she was holding you here, it was kind of an awkward pose. You looked over her features, how you loved older women. Her eyes were so bright, she had seen so much yet still had lots of life. The small wrinkles below her eyes and around her mouth were adorable, there because of how much she had shown her beautiful smile over the years. Her lips were full, so soft looking, and god how you loved that red lipstick on her. Oh, you were looking at her lips. You looked back up into her eyes, scared she would get the wrong idea from you looking at her lips. When you did, she brought her forehead to meet yours. She stared into your soul and whispered, "Are you, by any chance, into older women?" Your heart filled with excitement and you giggled at her question, obviously you were. "I love older women" you whispered, it was your little secret. Not so secret anymore, though. Larissa smiled, showing you her teeth. You loved when she smiled with her teeth. It made you feel like the whole world lit up and nothing bad would ever happen again. You brought your hands up to cup her face, she was adorable. So much so, you had to tell her. "Larissa, this may sound really weird, but you are absolutely precious" you whispered to her, still resting her forehead against yours. She blushed and looked down to her lap, you ending up giving a kiss to her head. When she looked back up at you she wasted no time capturing your lips with a passionate kiss. She grabbed your neck so that you couldn't pull back and kissed you like she's wanted you forever. You had no problem giving her the same energy back, she was the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes on. She was so loving, and she tasted like a mix of wine and sophistication. You tangled your hands in her hair, how silky it was. Coming to straddle her, you pushed your hips down into hers, making her gasp into your mouth. Neither she nor you expected you to be so forward, so wanting, but you really adored this woman. She stuck her tongue into your mouth surprising you. Her tongue ran against your fangs and you were scared you'd hurt her until you heard her moan at the feeling.

After a few minutes Larissa pulled away, and you couldn't help the grin on your face. "Did you just kiss me?" you giggled jokingly. She let out a deep laugh as she turned away from you, looking into the fire. Larissa wouldn't ever let on, but she was longing for touch, and that's what she wanted most. You let go of her as you saw her smile fade, like she had lost interest in your activity. You started to climb off of her, thinking that she didn't want you on top of her anymore. As you backed off, she turned her head towards you and again wrapped her arms around you, tighter than before. The look in her eyes told you what she wanted, she just wanted someone. She wanted to bask in someone's presence, and she wanted someone to bask in hers. Gladly, you would do just so. "Sansa, this may sound odd but, can we just be together? Can we cuddle?" Her words sounded so deprived, so quiet, like she was so unsure someone would want that with her. You cupped her face with your hands, "I would love nothing more Rissa." You kissed her cheek, getting comfortably closer to her. "Can I play with your hair?" you whispered, longing to run your fingers through it. She hummed and nodded in confirmation and you reached up to take the pins out. As you ran your fingers through the soft white strands, you settled in her neck and felt her hug you tighter, perhaps tighter than you've ever been hugged. This elicited a happy sigh and a smile from you and you kissed her neck tenderly. "Thank you Sansa" she whispered, and you prayed to all that was worthy and good that this wouldn't be the last time she held you so tight.

#principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #lesbian #so gay omg #wednesday netflix #larissa weems fanfic

[confusedblakex]

Soulmate AU Series: Eijiro Kirishima

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima X Reader (GN)

Summary: The day you get your soulmark, except you didn't find your soulmate the way you expected

Wordcount: ~820

Warnings: None

Requested by: No one

Inspired by: This post by @dashielldeveron and this post by @haitani-trash

Notes: Just trying to finish off all my fic series before I start anything new

Last edited: 16th May 2023

Prologue

You woke up an hour before your alarm, giddy with excitement. Your phone was buzzing with texts and ‘happy birthday’ messages, and there was a buzz of happiness in the air.

You threw the covers off yourself and immediately stood yourself in front of your mirror. Staring at your reflection, you looked yourself over.

There was a small, printed mark on the inside of your right wrist.

34.929529, 138.377314

So what did that mean? With a sigh, you brushed it off and continued with your morning.

As you arrived at school, hoping that someone would recognise what it meant or be able to decipher it. You were early, but people wished you a happy birthday as they entered the classroom. Ashido was the first to ask about your soulmark, closely followed by your friends Jiro and Tokoyami.

You showed them the mark, pulling up your sleeve to show them your wrist.

“Some sort of code, perhaps?” Tokoyami suggested, but you stopped when you noticed something about your soulmark.

“Wait, the numbers have changed,” You said, noticing that the combination was entirely different now. This gained confused looks from your friends.

Mina grabbed your arm and dragged you across the classroom, asking various random people what they thought it meant.

“Oh! It’s some numbers!”

“Fuck off”

“Dates or times perhaps,”

“Coordinates.”

“Phone numbers?”

Hold on. Mina dragged you back to Todoroki who, with little to no emotion, simply stated once again that.

“It’s coordinates.”

“Of course! Coordinates in latitude and longitude, does anyone have a GPS?” Midoriya yelled excitedly.

To his question, Tokoyami pulled out his phone and Jiro pulled a laptop out of her school bag.

Midoriya held a compass, and Jiro poured over the laptop while Tokoyami read out the numbers on your wrist. Mina was being moral support.

The collective breath was held as the search loaded. And the screen zoomed into UA.

Mina cheered, but everyone else – including yourself – all sighed. This was good, yes, but if the coordinates change when your soulmate moves, all that means is that they are one of the many many students at UA currently.

“The coordinates are only enough for a general location, not specific rooms in the school…” Midoriya said, getting lost in his own thoughts and quiet mumbling.

“Your best bet is to wait until lunch,” Tokoyami suggested, with Jiro quickly understanding.

“Yeah, that way if the coordinates change you know that they’re someone who’s up and moving.”

So classes continued as normal, and though a little underwhelming, it was nice. Lunch always seemed to come quickly and you felt a little better sitting down with your friends, though for some reason Mina had insisted on staying near you all day.

“Can’t miss some good romance drama!” She said when you asked why.

Therefore, she had abandoned her usual friends at their lunch table. But before you could think too much about it - or even start eating - the numbers on your wrist changed.

One number changed. Then two, and then the first number again, and then once more-

“Oi Mina!”

“Where’ve you been?”

The self-proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’ - the friends that Mina had abandoned to see the ‘romance drama’.

Bakugo, Sero and Denki all walked over to the table and Mina waved at them enthusiastically. Trailing behind them was Kirishima.

The numbers on your wrist had stopped changing, so you looked up to see what the Bakusquad were doing, only to look up directly at Kirishima.

His eyes widened and he froze in seemingly amazement or disbelief. Your eyes lingered on him, and for some reason you couldn’t look away. But it made sense - neither could he.

“Kirishima?” You asked loud enough for him to hear. He was still a good few paces away from you.

Not daring to look away, he just smiled. A blinding smile, the most beautiful, brilliant smile. To the confusion of everyone there, you stood to meet him halfway and giggled a little when he stumbled over his feet in excitement.

He didn’t slow down, though, when you reached each other and instead scooped you up into a hug. A gentle, loving hug.

So it was him. Kirishima is your soulmate.

You definitely weren’t disappointed, and Mina seemed to catch on as she squealed like a small child.

“It’s you, it was you all along,” He said quietly, still beaming.

"You're so... gorgeous..." He whispered, his eyes only on you, seemingly absorbed in all the colour he could now see.

“Hey, at least take me out for coffee first,” You joked and Kirishima flushed bright red as Denki laughed.

“Ah! Of course,” He said, finally stepping back from the embrace, “But I’m glad it’s you, (y/n).”

---

Bonus:

“Seeeeeee, I told you~” Mina sang as she danced around Kirishima.

“Told me what?”

“That you’d have a great love life one day,” She said, sighing to herself, “Ugh, now I need an entire manga series of your romance together! You and (y/n) are so cuuute!”

“Minaaaaa-” Kiri grumbled, bright red.

#x reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #kirishima eijiro #eijirou kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #soulmate au #soulmates

[takenbypeter]

Prompt 22 for Peter Maximoff! Peter had just joined the X-men so every where he goes he acts as if he’s going on a mission. He even wears his suit to show off to the public. Like I just know he’d act all tough and smug. Until there’s an actual mission and OF COURSE he gets injured, right in the beginning too. He comes back to the reader embarrassed (like he’d prob explain how good he was doing and then blame somebody on HIS own mess up) . While reader is lowkey laughing at him knowing she’s gonna have to take care of him like a baby cuz secretly he is not in fact “the tough guy”.

Even Heroes Make Mistakes

Peter maximoff x reader

Words: 692

Number 22: "Can I get a kiss for good luck?" "You are literally just going to the grocery store. Why would you-"

Authors note: hello hello again @zabelismyfavbagel lovely to hear from you!!! Hope you enjoyed this fun little drabble

There Pete was again wearing his new uniform. It fit him well and he knew it.

The yellow color was a little too in your face for your liking but I guess that's sort of the point.

You didn’t mind that he was wearing the suit but it was just a wonder why he was wearing it at this very moment.

"Can I get a kiss for good luck?"

“You are literally just going to the grocery store. Why would you-"

Your question was interrupted by his lips for a moment, “yeah but who knows what could happen, the world is a dangerous place,” he responded before speeding off leaving you to yourself in his basement.

Ever since joining the X-Men he has been doing almost everything in that uniform. Granted the whole X-Men thing and him was still fresh so you would give him at least that. It was actually quite adorable how thrilled he was about the whole thing, and despite how much he tried to downplay his feelings you’d easily notice the little changes.

How he’s now taking longer at local businesses, how he’d wear the uniform when running simple errands all while not using his super speed sometimes just to show off the suit. It was both lovable and hilarious at the same time.

“Babe, I’ll be back later. I gotta mission I gotta go on.”

Before he could run off you’d ask half jokingly, “is this a real mission or are you just running off to the post office again?”

His expressions shifted into a mock smile, “oh ha ha. It’s a real mission, I’ll see you tonight.”

He pecked your head and with that he was gone again.

An hour went by, then two, then three. While all this time was passing you kept busy playing video games and having the radio on, specifically the channel that went to highlight the X-Men’s current battle.

You missed some parts being that you did have to use the bathroom at some points, however as usual the X-Men won. With the news of the winning you expected to see Peter maybe fifteen minutes after, that was his typical time. However, this time fifteen minutes passed, then suddenly an hour was going by. You messaged and called but didn’t hear anything.

You didn’t know what was going on, but all you knew was that you were not going to leave this basement until you heard word from the man. But finally, finally he whooshed back in.

It took you a moment to process that he was back in front of you, then it took you a moment to process that his wrist was in a colorful cast. But once you did process it all, you ran right to his side, “Peter, what happened? Are you okay?” You asked gently, reaching towards the cast.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It was just a little accident.”

“A little accident? This seems more than a little accident.”

“Well it was. I was doing my thing running and then bam! I slipped on marbles!”

“Marbles?”

“Marbles,” he reiterated.

“Whose marbles were they?” You asked and that seemed to mean something to him as his head did a quick tilt before straightening out. “That’s besides the point.”

And right there, that was your answer.

“Peter, are you serious? Who brings marbles to a fight?”

“Someone who was on their way to a fight and saw a bag of marbles and thought they’d be fun to play with after…probably,” he said clearly in defensive mode yet still not seeming to want to admit it was him.

You stood there not knowing what to say. You didn’t know whether to feel bad for him because he was injured or to laugh because the whole story was ridiculous yet pretty believable. “You’re remarkable, do you know that?”

He seemed confused by your sudden sort of compliment but still he replied with a, “thanks?”

“Now sit down and relax. You’re going to need to rest that arm.”

He did as told but countered you, “my wrist will be back to normal in a week, I’m telling you.”

“Sure it will.”

-

Dialogue Prompts #2

#peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver fanfic #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #xmen fanfiction #xmen fanfic #xmen imagine #xmen x reader #requests #request #dialogue prompt 2

[commsroom]

Some silly eiffel questions that idk if you’ve talked about before but:

- would he play dnd? (I think yeah lol but I’m curious what you think) and if so what class would he play as?

- his favorite flavor of slushy

- how does he cook marshmallows? (Burn them, carefully toast them, eat them out of the bag, etc?)

- if he could choose to be a fantasy creature, which one would he choose?

Anyways I hope you feel better and that these distract you from the icky feelings!

have you seen the doug eiffel dnd script? i love to show people the doug eiffel dnd script. it was written a couple of years ago as part of the fundraising for unseen, and is obviously non-canon, however. it's non-canon in the sense that this group of people in these circumstances would never play dnd. i think the anecdotes + attitudes expressed by eiffel are perfectly on brand and they are canon to me. so... how he feels about dnd, and at least one answer to 'what class would he play' is in there. it's very funny to me that he's a minmaxer, and that his character is trained in "bazooka karate" like... sigh... yeah. of course. i don't think his tastes have changed that much since he was a teenager. (he would be a bard though, obviously, if that was the question.) i also think eiffel would be just insufferable to play dnd with because, like. if he's a player, he's going to be mad that he can't tell the story he wants to. if he's the DM, he's going to do zero planning and go on wild tangents having conversations between NPCs and forget he's not just supposed to be telling a story to himself. lost in his own world.

blue raspberry. he loves sugary artificial garbage that doesn't resemble any real world flavor, and blue raspberry is like, the 90's flavor. so many of his preferences are just nostalgia. he would also be really obnoxious about showing people how it dyed his tongue. (i don't think he's too picky about his sugary garbage, though.)

well. you already know he's not doing it carefully. even if he tried to do it carefully, he would still burn them, but i think he prefers them kinda burnt anyway. he would make fun of someone (minkowski) for how meticulously she toasts marshmallows. and he does also get impatient and shovel handfuls of them into his mouth directly out of the bag in-between the ones he immolates. eiffel is the kind of guy who would show off by proving how many marshmallows he can put in his mouth. i guarantee that guy has nearly choked trying to defend his honor as the reigning chubby bunny champion.

actually given the choice, i think he's perfectly happy to be human (and wouldn't trust an offer like that anyway) ... as an icebreaker question, though? he immediately gives a basic, 'cool' answer like werewolf, and then his brain catches up to his mouth and he goes wait, hold on, can i take that back? because all of the potential downsides just occurred to him, and he starts jumping around with his answer and getting more and more specific until it derails the whole conversation and he's just asking, like, if there would be a catch and what powers he's allowed to have, etc. and whoever asked is like, um... whatever you want, i guess? (<- regretting it.) the person after him says they'd be a dragon and he's like, ugh. no fair. i should've been a dragon.

#thank youuu these are exactly the kind of questions i was hoping for!! my favorite guy doug eiffel #i tried not to ramble too much but. it's four questions you must understand i'm showing great restraint here. #asks

[jseobsky]

hi hi, me again!! had kind of a rough day so I was wondering if I could request some best friend!minjae fluff? like just a minjae hanging out with you trying to distract you and make you feel better kind of thing? hsjshjdksjshsj sorry it's not v specific idek myself what exactly I want I just know I need some comfort :(

Bad days like these.

Pairing ! bestfriend!Minjae x gn!Reader Synopsis ! after a bad day and only wanting to be hug by the blankets and watch your favourite show, your best friend Minjae comes to your door. Genre ! Fluff, hinted romantic ending but can be read as like platonic Warnings ! Swearing, haven't proof-read anything- W/C ! 0.8k a/n ! omg I hope you feel much better now!! I'm sorry to hear that :(( I'm also having a quite meh day, so this was also just what I needed. thank you for requesting!! I loved writing this KSJHSDKFJ

Main masterlist &lt;3

There are days when you can fight against the whole world. Those days are the ones that people appreciate the most. I could’ve solved a world’s problem, and people would be happy. However, if I, for whatever reason wasn’t doing good one day, it wouldn’t count. People don’t count those moments as valid. People don’t count any moment as valid unless you are strong. But I can’t always be strong. 

There are days when all I can do is lie around. Those days are the ones I hate the most. I am ashamed of those days. Days where I try to hide behind a big screen. Sometimes trying to escape the little lie that I live in, in hopes of some comfort. People love to ignore my struggles. People ignore you unless you are fighting. But I can’t always fight.

Today is one of those days. Watching TV seemed the best answer to today’s mood. The characters hold each other as I hold my plushy. “You don’t have to be strong” Says one of the characters. “I know, but it’s hard” They hold each other even closer. Their breathless voices quivering at each word. “When moments like these, please call out my name. I’ll be there, whenever you ask for me, wherever you ask for me” Oh shut the fuck up. I wanna cry now. “Please just let me help you” Said the same character, reaching to kiss the person they were holding. Fucking finally after 14 episodes. “Mia. I” He breathed out. Ding, ding, ding. Who dares interrupt their moment ffs. I walk towards the front door, random objects are lying around the floor as I walk. I walk past some school books, some clothes that I must have thrown, and some random papers that might be more important than how I’m treating them. I finally reach the door and open it. 

The cold air hits my face as soon as I open the door. Outside, the sky was dimmed, definitely a representation of how I felt. Even with my tear-stained face from the scene, I was just watching, I get to smile. “I hate you” I say out loud. Minjae, who was standing outside my door with a big puffy jacket, and a big grocery bag, slapped his empty hand on his chest and gasped. “How dare you. Should I turn around?” I stopped him from turning around completely and pulled him inside. “How did you know?” I asked. “You changed your Instagram notes from BARBIE NEW MOVIE I CAN’T to: alexa play voices by stary kids” Minjae said while taking his shoes off. “You only do that when you’re sad as fuck” “Touché” I say while grabbing his bag I walk again towards the couch. He follows behind me, crouching down for a moment to pick my music notes and placing them on the table they fell from, not before shaking his head. I take interest in the scene again. 

Although I couldn’t see more of the scene, now being paused again a little less than a second before their kiss. I make an annoyed face and turn to look at Minjae who paused my show. “What happened?” He asked. “If I ignore my problems, they won’t hurt” He got a little closer. “They will, and you know it. That or you’ll end up punching someone” I gasp. “Okay, that was ONE time. And the guy deserved it anyways so who’s the one at fault?” “Still you, that guy just approached you because you were crying, you looked at him, flirted with him, and when he said he didn’t like stray kids you punched him” I giggled remembering the moment, the second I look at Minjae again he’s looking serious so I straighten my posture. “Still his fault, he said that I was jobless bcs I liked those stupid dancing boys and that I spent too much money on them after talking about my collection” “How much of that is true?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Not my point” I pouted jokingly. 

“Okay let’s do this. I help you escape from your problems” I nod. After waiting for two seconds and him not continuing I ask. “Aaand?” “Nothing, you just get bragging rights because you got the best friend in the entire world” “Well that’s arguable, Felix is Hyunjin’s best friend so like” Minjae stands up. “Okay sorry, sorry, you’re the best, you’re the best” I grab his arm again and pull him towards me, making him fall on the sofa. We stay laughing for a bit, but our laughs come to a stop when we hear the show playing again. Minjae hugs me closer to him and we start watching the show from where it was left. “You don’t have to be strong” Says Minjae after a while, him looking me directly into my eyes. I nod. “I know, but it’s hard” He hugs me closer. He pets my head and smiles. “I’ll make the pain go away, I promise.”

#✿•ᴗ•✿ lili asks!! #✿•ᴗ•✿ lili posts! #minjae #xikers #xikers x reader #xikers imagines #xikers reactions #xikers fluff #xikers ff #minjae fluff #minjae x reader #minjae x yn #minjae reactions #minjae imagines #kim minjae #xikers minjae

[hornyanimegirl]

it's the yamaguchi requester back for more >:3

could you write jean (aot) comforting the reader about their physical insecurities? like, reader is feeling down about themself for not fitting the beauty standard and jean's like "excuse me what?"

Beautiful

featuring . . . JEAN KIRSTEIN

includes . . . fluff and insecurities

notes . . . welcome back! i'm not a Jean simp so i really hope i got his personality right and this isn't bad. you didn't mention any specific physical insecurities so I didn't specify. i do hope you enjoy! <3

It’s hard to go around smiling as though you didn’t just have a mental breakdown in your room two seconds ago. 

It’s hard to act like everything was okay behind closed doors. 

It’s hard to accept the complements of  

“You’re so pretty” 

“You look so good” 

When you don’t believe them. 

It’s even harder to hide your insecurities from Jean. Your boyfriend who knows everything about you, and you know everything about him. 

You love him, you truly do. But there were times when he would flaunt you to Eren saying things like 

“Look how beautiful they are” 

“Your ugly ass could never find someone as gorgeous as them” 

Those words never made you feel better. You felt the need to live up to them, to those standards that Jean so highly talks about.  

You tried your best to be “beautiful” and “gorgeous” so your boyfriend wouldn’t be embarrassed when he introduced you to his friends. 

But the constant reminder in your head that you’re not as beautiful as the person Jean’s friend is holding by the waist puts even more pressure on you. 

It was too much, and your mask was slowly cracking, revealing to everyone how fake your smile was.  

Your exhaustion displayed itself on your face, but no one questioned it since your mood never declined. Still as happy as you usually are, acting as though you didn’t have prominent bags under your eyes. 

Your house was the only place you felt safe. There were no prying eyes or judgmental stares that made you feel less than other people. At home, you got to let loose and look as tired and as “ugly” as you pleased. 

It was Saturday, and you were relaxing after a long week of work. You hadn’t changed out of your pj’s, and you didn’t take the time to do your hair. You weren’t expecting visitors, so you didn’t get ready at all. Sitting in the living room binge watching one of your favorite shows.  

A knock came from the door, and you didn’t think anything of it, probably just a package that you ordered. But when you look through the peep hole and see your boyfriend instead your anxiety spikes. 

A squeal of surprise escaped your lips, and due to your apartment having thin walls, your boyfriend heard it clearly. 

His knocking became frantic, thinking you were hurt. 

“What’s going on in there, are you ok” 

Your boyfriend's worried voice breaks your heart, and you knew you would have to open the door.  

Opening the door, you come face to face with Jean. 

You note how out of breath he was, sweat trickling down his forehead, and his hands in a fist ready to knock on the door again. 

Jean noticed the bags under your eyes and the way your shoulders slouched with exhaustion. 

Before you could even get a word out Jean had already pulled you into his arms and closed the door. 

“Are you ok” 

To say you were shocked by the question was an understatement. People had always asked you questions like “how are you”, so why did this question bring tears to your eyes? 

Was it because you really weren’t, ok? 

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize you had cuddled into Jean’s chest, sobbing. 

“What’s wrong love, you can tell me” 

You felt pathetic. Were you downright sobbing because you didn’t like the way you looked? 

“I hate my body ok; I feel so suffocated trying to be beautiful for you. I just don’t want you to be embarrassed of me” 

Your cries had died down into small hiccups, Jeans hand rubbing up and down you're back calming you down. 

“Me embarrassed of you?” 

His laugh of disbelief caused a smile to adorn your face. His way of always making you smile even in the most serious of moments was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him. 

“I should be the one you’re embarrassed about sweetheart. I know you don’t think you’re beautiful, but you are. To me you’re the most beautiful person in the world” 

His words soothed your worries.  

For the first time, you acknowledged that it was okay to feel the way you did about your body. And now you don’t have to go through it alone. You would have your boyfriend by your side to always reassure you that you were his everything. 

“Your looks are not the only reason I love you. It's your personality, your looks are just a plus” 

He smiled down at you, and you smiled back. 

You both shared a loving kiss, lips moving slowly and passionately.  

“You know I love you right” 

His words were sincere as he gazed down at you. 

“I know Jean, and I do too” 

His lips upturned into a bright smile at your answer, kissing you one last time on the forehead before he dragged you to sit on the couch. 

“Good! Now let's watch some movies” 

#aot x reader #aot x reader fluff #aot fluff #aot imagines #aot one shots #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot #attack on titan fluff #jean x reader #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader fluff #jean kirstein fluff #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan one shots #attack on titan x reader fluff

[biblicalhorror]

Leighton was polite in asking to take the photo down though? It was escalated because Alicia was dismissive in wanting to take it down thinking it not a big deal. Even if taking it down wasn't because a person is closeted or they just wanted to keep private by not having post of their stuff or themselves on social media, the considerate thing would of been to take it off out of respect for your partner.

And I have been in a position of dating a Leighton, so yeah there a bit of bias on my part. For me it would be naive to think your ex won't see that blast especially with the intention of all caps and siren emojis, that was extra and immature. Go ahead and heal and prioritize yourself, but she didn't needed to kick a person down who's already laying on the floor crying.

The closeted girl I dated I told her we were in different stages of our lives but I hope you find people to help you out of the closet one day. Really no sense in escalating her guilt and fear, making her the bad person who's pushing you back in the closet. That just petty and unnecessary, compounding your own problems on to someone who clearly hurting on their own. I thought maybe since Alicia was part of the women center she would of been more tactful in her approach of a closeted person? But I guess that is difficult when your feelings are involved. So maybe in season 3 they can re-address the closet situation and see Alicia's growth.

Tatum and Alicia were both beneficial and also a lesson for Leighton in the lesbian dating world. All inwhich would lead her to date Willow in the end because she's the best lesbian in Essex (kidding.. well not really Willow is the best :P).

No, I absolutely agree! I'm really hoping they show us more of how Alicia has grown and matured as well, rather than making it solely something that Leighton needed to get past. There were definitely better ways to handle it and I think the show has done a good job overall with showing both of these characters' real flaws and insecurities through their actions.

We can agree to disagree on how tactfully Leighton handled the bag situation. Maybe I'm biased because I can't be arsed to keep track of what designer bags look like, but like. It's a bag. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal. Lots of people have those bags, especially at a school like Essex, and it's unlikely someone following Alicia on Instagram would have 1) known what kind of bag it was and 2) connected that to Leighton specifically and 3) cared enough about the people involved to try and spread it around. It makes sense that it would FEEL like a big deal to Leighton, who is putting all of this pressure on herself to hide and not take one tiny step out of the closet for her own protection. But I also get why someone coming at you with all of this urgency and anxiety about a bag being in the background of your selfie would feel less about them and more about you, especially when that person has been snobby and elitist since you've known them and very much makes it known they don't want to be seen with you. Unfortunately, the photo scene didn't happen in a vacuum, and I'm sure Leighton's classism and internalized homophobia had already chipped away a bit at Alicia's self esteem before anything blew up. It wasn't solely about her being closeted.

Because Leighton wasn't JUST ashamed of Alicia because they were dating. Alicia represented the "type" of gay person she had been taught to avoid in her conservative upbringing: loud, brash, confrontational, "unrefined" (read: poor), nonwhite, etc. That's why she ultimately needed to date someone like Tatum to figure out that she doesn't need to bargain away her true desires by dating exactly the type of girl her parents would be most okay with her ending up with. She likes that Alicia pushes her to grow, and I think Leighton does the same for Alicia as well, even if we havent gotten to see that quite as intimately as we have with the main cast. If Alicia wants to affect change, she needs to be okay with holding herself back sometimes and showing more grace in tense situations, which is something Leighton obviously excels at. I hope we see more of them growing together and learning from each other.

And yes 100% agree that Willow is the best, lol. I personally think she's too chill and laid back for Leighton, but I could be persuaded. I'm really hoping we get a full-fledged arc of some kind for her next season. I also hope we get to see Whitney REALLY kiss a girl one of these days 🤞

#the sex lives of college girls #slocg spoilers #leighton x alicia #leighton murray #alicia slocg

[dumbass-sisters]

Knowledge Isn’t Always Power, Chapter 3

I groan, the sun peering through my window waking me up. I feel around my side table for my phone without looking up, knocking over everything in the process. Someone leans over me grabbing something from the side table.

"Here you go" They say handing me my phone before laying back on the bed reaching their arm over me to pull me closer.

"Thanks and good morning" I say, turning over to give Ace a lingering kiss.

"Well good morning to you too" He responds, his voice raspy and deep. He places a hand on my cheek, looking in my eyes like I'm the only person on earth. I can't help but smile, a genuine one.

*BEEP* BEEP* *BEEP*

I jolt awake as my alarm beeps non stop. I reach beside me on my bed looking around my apartment for anyone, more specifically Ace. No one's here. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, collapsing back on my bed, feeling a sense of relief. I reach over on my side table grabbing my notebook and a pencil. My thoughts need to come out on paper, they're too crowded in my head.

"First of all why the fuck is this man in my dreams. Why did my unconsciousness feel it was necessary to dream about him? And in my bed of all things, cuddling me. And then the kiss. There was a kiss! Why was there a kiss?! I mean it was a nice kiss for a dream but still, it was totally uncalled for.

I talked to him once! And once was all it took for my brain to go haywire and dream about him.

1 hour. I talked to him for a full 60+ minutes because he seemed interesting. We talked, we laughed, we joked and then I left. That's it, end of story. What is my brain telling me by putting this guy in my head?

Like what the fuck!"

I lay the notebook beside me, staring at my roof. This is gonna be a long day.

*********************************************************

My alarm woke me up with enough time to get ready for work and not be late. Jess is going to be so proud. Maybe it will finally get me on her good side.

I make it to the bus and luckily for him it's not the same bus driver from yesterday. This one doesn't seem like an ass. I slide into a seat, placing my bag on the one next to me, preventing anyone from sitting there. I did enough voluntary socializing yesterday to last me for a month, I don't need strangers striking up conversations with me.

I lay my head on the window, my head bumping against the glass, keeping me awake. My mind wanders to earlier, the dream finding its way into my head again. Ace finding his way into my head again. A blush spreads across my face as my mind runs wild. My body feeling hotter by the second.

I grab my backpack as I make it to my stop. I speed walk, keeping my eyes glued to the ground in attempts to hide my face. The only time I blush is when The Avengers show up on my screen. This dream is just putting thoughts into my head that need to leave. I don't even feel that way about Ace in the first place.

*************************************

I enter the back door immediately heading to the mirror.

I wash my face with cold water, hoping my flushed look would go away before my shift starts. I change into my work clothes before collapsing into a chair. I haven't even started work yet and I'm so exhausted. I bring my hands up to my face, groaning.

"You're early today. You good?" I hear Jess asks. I extend my fingers, creating tiny spaces so I can see through them.

"Nope. I just want to hurry up and finish work. No offense"

"None taken. This job can be a lot sometimes"

"Tell me about it" I sigh, dropping my hands from my face. "Where do you want me today?"

"You can start making orders and I'll put them out. We might also need to refill some of the ingredients. Po is out there so he'll help"

"Okay, got it" I say heading out to the front. I can survive the day as long as I don't see Ace again. I haven't seen him at the café before yesterday so he's not a regular. I should be— Fine....

I stare at the ghost table in the far corner, more specifically the person that fills it. I rush back to the common room to find Jess.

"Hey Jess, you said you're serving tables right?"

"Yea, why?"

"Can I maybe do it instead?"

"No one wants to serve tables in the morning, it's always the busiest. You of all people would be happy that I'm doing it. Why do you want to do it now?" I bite my tongue and fight the urge to say anything to her, she's not what's important right now. I grit my teeth and smile, thinking on my feet.

"I just want to take some of the pressure off of you today, you take the mornings majority of the time" She looks at me skeptically, before replying.

"Whatever you say, Luna. Thanks I guess"

"No problem, anytime Jess!" I grin, but it fades as soon as I walk away. I grab a menu rushing to the ghost table ignoring all the other customers. I approach Ace, his face buried in a book instead of his computer this time. I clear my throat getting his attention, making sure to smile so it looks like I'm actually doing my job.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, annoyance finding its way into my voice.

"Am I not allowed to be here?" He smirks. I almost feel a vein pulse in my head.

"That's not–" I sigh. "Why are you here?"

"I get a lot of writing done when I'm here, as well as my assignments for school. And I have some time before work starts later today. Is that a good enough explanation for you?" I glare at him. "If you don't like that explanation I can always just say I'm here to see you, it wouldn't necessarily be a lie" He says his voice low with a smug look on his face.

"I'm leaving" I roll my eyes, turning around to leave.

"Hey Luna?" He says before I have time to walk away. I turn around slowly, facing him.

"What?!" I say, clearly irritated.

"Can I get a hot chocolate with 2 chocolate donuts please?" It's like he's deliberately trying to piss me off.

I take a deep breath, calming down. I need to remember he's still a paying customer.

"Sure" I say before walking away, towards the front desk, with Po.

"Po, do me a favor?" I ask as he's making orders.

"Depends on what it is" He replies.

"Can you handle the ghost table for me?"

"You do know the table isn't actually haunted right?"

"No shit Sherlock" I roll my eyes and he chuckles. "It's the person at the ghost table, not the table itself" He looks over at the table.

"You know him or something?"

"Well, yes- no- kinda? That's not the point. You wanna do it or not?" There's a long pause.

"What's in it for me then?"

"My gratitude?" I say hopeful. Po looks at me, holding back a laugh.

"Nobody wants your gratitude Luna" He scoffs and I glare at him.

"Fine, I'll get you one thing off the menu, your choice" I sigh.

"Anything?" He asks intrigued.

"Yup"

"Fine," He replies. A wave of relief passes through me. I make Ace's order and hand it to him.

"Thanks" I say.

"Just don't forget your end of the deal"

"You won't let me forget"

"You're right about that" He replies, taking the order out. I watch as he approaches Ace.

He glances at me as Po gives him the order. I scoff rolling my eyes.

"I don't see anything wrong with him, why didn't you wanna serve him?" Po says as he comes back.

"Long dream– Story! I mean story. It's a long story" I say, my face heating up. He looks at me confused.

"I'm not even gonna to ask" He says going back to work. I sigh, doing the same.

I don't know what Ace is doing. Whether he's here to bother me or he's just genuinely here to do work and it has nothing to do with me. I don't know his game plan or if he even has a game plan. I don't know anything about him, and now I don't want to know.

If I could keep things like that it would be great. For the both of us.

*****************************************************

After I get Po his Venti Ice Cap Coffee, I head straight home. That asshole made sure to get the biggest, most expensive size we had. But I would've done the same. Great minds think alike. Ace already left by the time my shift was over, guess he couldn't spend the entire time at the cafe. The first thing I do when I get home is grab my notebook and pencil, like I do everyday like clockwork.

" Ace came to work today. He sat in the same seat and ordered the same thing. A hot chocolate and two chocolate donuts.

I think the dream I had this morning tricked my mind into thinking things. Thinking things that it shouldn't think, causing my body to do things it doesn't do.

I blushed today. Over the thought of the dream, over the thought of him beside me, so close together. I don't blush. Especially over dreams I know aren't real.

It's like my body has a mind of its own. My body needs to stay in it's lane and calm down.

But it's fine. Over time I'll forget about the dream and him all together. I have more pressing matters than worrying about Ace."

I put my pencil down and head over to my bed. I let my body fall, face planting on my pillow. A loud groan leaves my mouth, muffled by my pillow. I roll over staring intently at my roof.

I wonder if his notification will pop up. He looks like he'll live a pretty long life but the world can be brutal.

No use thinking about it though. Just forget it.

***************************************************************************

The smell of freshly baked eggs fill my apartment, with the smell of bacon to go with it. I was going to stay in bed for a little more but the smell is making me hungry.

I peel myself out of bed, opening my curtains, sunlight illuminating my room. I stretch as I head over to the kitchen, the smell of breakfast leading the way. I see him standing over the stove, with a 'Call Me Daddy' apron on that always makes me chuckle.

A smile spreads across my face as I approach him. I slip my arms around his waist giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before laying my head against his back.

"This smells good" I say.

"You're not supposed to be up, I was going to surprise you with breakfast"

"Oooo, what's the occasion?"

"What, I can't surprise my girlfriend with breakfast in bed?"

"Not without a reason" I reply. He turns the stove off, placing the pot on a different burner. He turns around finding his hands around my waist, pulling me towards him.

"Well I don't have a reason so what're you going to do about it"

"Oh nothing in particular" I look up at him with suggestive eyes, leaning in slowly to kiss him. I place one hand behind his head deepening the kiss. He keeps one hand behind my back using the other to rest on my face, quickening the kiss in the process. We pull away breathless, our bodies still together.

"How was that?" I ask.

"I wasn't paying attention, mind showing me again?" He says his gaze on my lips.

"Whatever you say" I reply.

...

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

My eyes jump open as my alarm lets out its deafening sound. I sit up, turning it off.

"What in the actual fuck" I groan.

I rush towards my desk once again grabbing my notebook and pencil, letting all my thoughts drain onto paper.

"Nope, no, this shit isn't happening again. 2 days in a row, this is the second dream I've had about this guy. THE SECOND. And it wasn't just cuddling this time. We made out, like passionate making out. And let's not forget he called me his girlfriend. HIS GIRLFRIEND. As in dating, as in a couple. He called me his girlfriend.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this in my head now?

It felt so real.

The feeling of his lips on mine, the feeling of his hands around my face, the hot air around from his cooking.

His touch still lingers on me as if it really happened. What is he doing to my head? What am I doing to my head? I feel nothing towards him so why is this happening?

I met him two days ago for fuck's sake.

My brain has gone rogue." I take a deep breath, my hand having a hard time keeping up with my racing thoughts.

" It's okay...it's ookay. I got this. It's my head, I control what I think about. I got this.

He's a busy man, keeping my distance won't be hard. He won't be coming to the café everyday. He's not crazy."

************************************************************

Author Notes:

Or maybe he is...Ace is an interesting one.

#Original Work #original #original character #romance #early twenties #love #fiction #fantasy

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-

#hslot!harry #hslotrry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles angst #husband!harry #harry styles huband #erodsafishtacos masterlist #file #Harry styles au #update #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing request #harry styles angst

[aurasaurora]

10 minutes

Request: Hi there! Im not sure if you accept requests or not, but if you do, can I ask for a Squid Game, Sangwoo x Y/n scenario? Lets say that, for the sake of the fic, 3 people can be winners in the game instead of only 1, but right now there are 4 people alive. Gihun, Saebyeok, Sangwoo and Y/n. Y/n is given the choise to eliminate someone with a gun, and declare the winners. But, the players witness Y/n eliminating themselves, in order for them to win. Even worse if Y/n and Sangwoo were in a long term relationship/ married. Y/n can be afab or gender neutral, but Im so curious of how this scenario would play out. Thank you for reading!

Parings: Cho Sang-Woo x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Angst Suicide, fighting, guns

A/N: I changed the pacing of the pic to suit my own taste, but I still hope the person who requested this still enjoys it.

“Did his life mean nothing to you?” You shouted towards Sang-Woo, the two of you had just re-entered the resting rooms, waiting for the rest of the survivors to arrive. The brutal and emotional betrayal of Ali done by your fiancé, in order to keep you alive broke you. All the games were traumatic, but this one specifically showed you just how cunning your fiancé really was. Ali someone who thought both you and your fiancé as friends, someone he could trust in the insanity of this is game. Ali looked at you in disbelief once he realized the bags were switched, he screamed and yelled, heartbroken at your unintentional betrayal. You couldn’t even believe it when you saw a bag full of marbles in your own hands, you never even realized the switch happening nor did either of you witness it. You begged the guards to let you die instead of him, you tugged at the guard’s body practically trying to aim the gun at yourself. But they weren’t going to let you escape from the gruesome reality that the game brought. Regardless the timer already went off, so any negotiation would be useless. Ali was shot right in front of your eyes.

“This is a survival game, for fucks sake. We cannot worry about anyone except for ourselves, otherwise we’ll never come out here alive.” Sang-Woo’s behaviour was downright dirty, but he was the only one being realistic out of the two. This idea of building up friendships is illogical, and he blames your nativity for that. Because if it came down to it, Ali would’ve saved himself over you. Which was what was going to happen regardless. He couldn’t comprehend why you were so star struck by the betrayal, any connection you made with other team players were out of desperation for survival. Sang-Woo figured he was being objective, while you weren’t. This money could be life changing, not could…would be. He figured enough therapy would put your sorrows away, but his need to win ignored that your traumas could never go away.

“He..he has a family, a child waiting for his father to return. You took that away from him.” Your voice became more hushed, but still spat the same venom as earlier. “Well then maybe he should’ve thought about them before he decided partaking in this game. Whether he died now, or later. It wouldn’t make a difference for you and I.” He was getting agitated; he didn’t want to have this conversation with you. Not discussing his recent brutality, allowed him to ignore that side of him. He didn’t want to confront his demons, and neither should you.

“Well, he never had a chance so who knows, maybe he would’ve won the game. But we will never know because you took that chance, the possibility away from him.” Sang-Woo had a response, but he didn’t say anything, he knew arguing with you back would serve no justice to the situation. When you knew he wouldn’t respond, you sat yourself down on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest.

Eventually, Sang-Woo approached you, sitting himself right besides you. “If you had the opportunity to save me…would you?” his voiced was soft and endearing. He placed his arm around your shoulder.

“Yes.” You didn’t even think twice your response.

“Then why do you judge me for something you would’ve done yourself? You only feel guilty because of the emotional attachment, but had you not known him, you probably wouldn’t even thought twice at what I did.” His voice gave out wisdom, but your face layed with confusion. I mean yeah, you’re going to feel guilty betraying someone you have a connection with vs someone you don’t. He’s just stating the obvious.

Before you could respond the rest of the survivors finally arrived, making it just four people left alive. Yourself, Sang-Woo, Gi-hun, and Saebyeok. The night was approaching, and you knew the final game was arriving. Your anxiety was becoming unbearable, that you couldn’t even sleep. Sang-Woo was resting besides you, and you looked at him what seemed to be the only moment of peace he’s had since the beginning of the game. You fiddled with your engagement ring; you couldn’t help but wonder if marrying someone as ruthless as he was? Granted he did it to save your life, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it came down to the two of you, would he have brutally tricked you to save his own life? Maybe not, maybe so. But the hypothetical thought brought you to shivers. You didn’t want to know, but you’ll soon find out.

It seems that Saebyeok was also awake, because she saw you fiddling with your engagement ring. She quietly walked over to your side of the bed. Waving a hand in order to not startle you, she wanted to ask if you were okay, but the answer was obvious. “Are you ready for the final game?” she whispered. Once again Saebyeok knew the answer, nobody ever felt ready, but she wanted to create conversation in hopes to ease out your nerves.

“As ready as I can be. Any guesses on what the next game might be?” you asked hopelessly.

“Considering it’s the last game, probably something that requires 3 of us dead.” Saebyeok instantly regretted her words once she realizes that you were slightly scared by her words. “I-I mean, who knows. Maybe that won’t be the case.” She stumbled over her own words.

“I really enjoyed our time together.” You knew she was most likely right. Having one survivor win the game felt the most realistic. You looked around the room, realizing that this would be the last moment you saw any of them alive. You knew better than to think you’d survive this game.

“I appreciate your kindness…You always had my back, even with the way I treated you.” Her voice was filled with forgiveness, when she first met you, she was cold towards you, yet you were nothing but kind.

“Well, you can repay me” you told her playfully. “If you win, you’ll have to take care of my cat.” You smiled at her.

She smiled back at you for a bit, then her face went back to sadness. “Will you take care of my brother…if you win?”

You gave her a hug “Of course.”

***

The walk towards the next game made you so anxious you felt like you could throw up. Your head was dizzy, and you couldn’t walk straight. Sang-Woo picked up on that and slide an arm around your waist to keep you stable.

You arrived to a luminated room, there was no intricate designs, or crazy sets. Just an empty room, with a gun on a pillar with a red velvet cushion beneath it.

“The rules are simple; three survivors are required for the game to be complete. Kill off one remaining member of the group, using the gun provided. The gun has 3 bullets however, use it wisely. You have 10 minutes. If all members remain after the timer is up, all will be eliminated.”

As soon as the voice finishes, a timer appears beginning to count down. Everyone froze, nobody knew who was going to go first, and grab the gun. Neither did they know who’d be killed off. It was already clear to Gi-Hun that there was a disadvantage. You were sided with Sang-Woo as his fiancée, and Gi-Hun overheard your conversation with Saebyeok. So, at the very least there was an alliance there.

Sang-Woo was the first to walk towards the gun, then Gi-Hun both you and Saebyeok were frozen in your place having no idea what the fuck to do.

Sang-Woo was able to grab the gun off of the piler, just for it to slip out of his hand. Saebyeok ran towards the direction in which the gun fell from the floor. Gi-Hun pushed her which led her to fall harshly onto the floor. Saebyeok let out a harsh groan from the fall, you ran over towards her direction to check on her. You felt like you weren’t built for this battle. You had no clue what you were going to do. “Are you alright?” You asked leaning down to her level on the floor. She looked at you in disbelief “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Go fight.” She shouted at you.

Meanwhile Sang-Woo and Gi-Hun were both struggling with tackling each other. You realized that they were fighting to put each other down, then grabbing the gun. You ran to go pick it up, then Gi-Hun released himself off of Sang-Woo and ran towards you. His hands were now on top of your own, battling for the dominance of the gun. Sang Woo ran to grab Gi-Hun off you, and Saebyeok ran to do the same. Just as when Sang-Woo was able to pull Gi-Hun off your body, Gi Huns finger was still around the trigger unintentionally rather he just wanted to have a better grip. As both Saebyeok and Sang-Woo successfully pulled Gi-hun off you, his hand slips over the trigger, and sends a bullet directly into your stomach.

Your screams were loud, if not louder than the gunshot itself. Everyone froze, in disbelief. You were crying in agony, the pain essentially being unbearable. Your body began to tremble at the inescapable pain as a hole was sliced through your organs. The gun had fell to the ground and Gi-Hun quickly began to apologize, his survival instincts override his brain, he felt nothing but guilt. Sang-Woo looked at him with nothing but blood. And he grabbed the gun off the ground.

“ASSHOLE!” he yelled, shooting the second gun aimlessly, as did Gi-Hun before, hitting Gi-Huns foot. Gi-Hun screamed aggressively falling to the ground. The gun dropped near your face and Sang-Woos hands trembled as he looks at your helpless body. Saebyeok face was covered in shock, she couldn’t believe what was going on.

“Baby… Oh my god.. Baby say something.” Sang-Woos face was teary, he couldn’t keep his eyes open to see your face as they were filled with waves of tears. He held your bleeding body tightly to his own, rocking your dying body back and forth. You took your free less weakened hand and grabbed the gun. And pulled it behind your back. Going unnoticed by San-Woo.

“Please, please just fucking speak to me.” His shaky voice cracked mid-sentence. “The game isn’t over love.” You croaked out. “There’s still 3 minutes left.”

He didn’t listen to your words despite having begged you to speak merely seconds ago.

“Baby... Y/N.. baby I love you so much. So fucking much. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. For Ali, for everything. I need you; I fuck..I can’t do this without you. We were supposed to get married- We-“

He felt something slip into his pockets and slowly let you go to see what it was; it was your engagement ring. He scrunched his hands at the sight. “No-“

“Remember earlier, when you asked if I would save you? Well, it’s my turn baby.” Your voice was disappearing as the pain consumed your body. “Take care of Saebyeok will you? Make sure Gi-Hun spends his money wisely, and please take care of the cats” you tried to be humours, yet no laughs were met.

Saebyeok was on the other side of the room due to her checking on Gi-hun, and your words were finally clicking in for her. She began running towards your direction “Y/N NO” she practically screamed.

“I love you Woo.” Sang-Woo’s brain froze as you proceeded to pull the gun to your head. Without hesitation clicking the gun, sending the bullet directly into your brain. With 30 seconds left on the clock, you were declared dead.

Saebyeok stopped in her tracks and fell to her knees, in tears. Gi-Hun face was plastered with disbelief, and Sang-Woo, was emotionless. His last 24 hours with you, was spent breaking your heart. Turning you against your own friend and arguing away your final moments together. The last moment of happiness you had together was hours before you both joined the game, when he got on his knees and asked you to be the one to spend eternity together.

Unfortunately, eternity meant 96 hours and 10 minutes.

#cho sangwoo x reader #sang woo x reader #Park hae soo x reader #Hae soo x reader #squid game x reader #squid game imagines #saebyeok x reader #gi hun x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game #fanfic #x reader

[toastedkiwi]

Pearl Ring

Summary: a certain ring on a certain finger has the world believing a Stark is engaged to a Wayne and your father isn’t happy.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Stark!Reader

11:00 EST. Fifth Avenue, New York.

Bruce gave you his right hand. You took it into your left hand as stairs are not your friend especially in heels. He knows it to be a fact as you have fallen down the stairs in his manor. Thankfully, it was just him around and you both got a good laugh over it. Since then, if you’re together and you’re in heels, he’ll give you his hand.

You both deal with the flashes of the cameras and the shouts of the paparazzi as you head to Alfred’s car. He awaits to open the door for you two to slide in once close enough. Bruce had you slid in first while Alfred took the many shopping bags from your hands. The door is shut and you looked at Bruce.

“My dad is gonna be pissed if I’m photographed with you again,” you said with a grin.

Bruce chuckled. Your dad hates him. He can’t stand him especially if he’s near you, his eldest and first born. It’s not at all like Bruce would hurt you purposefully and shit, you know you’re safe with Bruce. You two aren’t even dating. You’re probably the only friend that Bruce can tolerate and understand his grunts or at least not get pissed about it like his kids do. You both just understand each other better than most.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle Ironman,” Bruce said as Alfred got into the driver’s seat.

“I do believe that you would then have the whole Avengers coming after you, Master Bruce,” Alfred said driving off.

“I’m sure I can persuade some to not go after Bruce,” you said. “And I’m sure the kids will come to his aid in battling my father.”

“Oh, I’m more than sure that they’ll watch it all go down with popcorn,” Bruce said.

“I will be too,” you said grinning.

Bruce grabbed your hand and noticed you placed your grandmother’s ring on the wrong hand as you’re talking with Alfred. You always have it on your right hand on the finger in between your pinky and middle finger.

“Give me your other hand,” Bruce said.

You give it to him. He slipped off your ring and you just stopped speaking. You were getting the ring professionally cleaned and so you got the very busy Bruce Wayne to join you in New York to help you kill some time before you could get it back. And you put the ring on your ring finger meant to signify that a person is married or engaged. You aren’t at all and you’ve just been spotted holding hands with the guy you consider to be your best friend and your dad doesn’t approve of him.

“Oh my god, I’m such a dumbass,” you said as he slipped the pearl ring onto the right finger for you.

“You’ll be alright, you dummy,” Bruce said.

You back handed his bicep and said, “you asshole, we were holding hands! They’re gonna think we’re engaged or married!”

He smiled and said, “the boys would be happy and don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s probably too late already,” you said.

It was. The paparazzi were quick to sell the photos which eventually started the process for news sites/gossip sites to write the story and examine the photos for little details. It would be a nightmare but it’ll be easily cleared up in an interview which you’ll probably have to do.

15:30 EST. Avengers Tower, Manhattan.

“Congrats on your daughter getting engaged, Mr. Stark,” Peter said.

“What? What do you mean?” Tony questioned narrowing his eyes at the poor teenager.

“Oh- uh— ummm, I thought that Y/n and B-Bruce—,” Peter said getting nervous.

“If you say Wayne, you are no longer an Avenger,” Tony growled.

“Why can’t the poor kid say Wayne?” Natasha asked appearing into the hallway.

“Because I hate the Waynes and specifically Bruce Wayne,” Tony said.

“Wow, you’re already hating your future son in law?” Natasha teased and shooed away Peter.

Peter quickly escaped to safety. Natasha pulled one of the breaking news videos on her tablet and showed Tony. Tony is ready to start WWIII and it won’t be a pretty thing.

“Friday! Give the location on my daughter NOW!” Tony yelled.

“Which one, sir?” She asked.

“THE OLDEST!”

“Her phone is turned off,” Friday informed.

“Track Bruce Wayne,” Tony said.

“Seriously, Tony?” Natasha said.

“Y/n always has her phone on,” he said.

“Gotham Academy,” Friday said.

16:30 EST. Gotham Academy, Gotham, NJ.

Bruce and Damian were walking down the stairs at the front of the building. Ironman dropped down in front of them. Damian smirked and Bruce couldn’t be more annoyed. He immediately put a hand in front of his son. It might be for Damian’s protection or Tony’s.

“I didn’t propose to her, Stark,” Bruce said.

“Where is she?!” Tony asked.

“She should be at her apartment in Manhattan,” Bruce said. “Probably taking a nap.”

The nanite helmet came off and Tony has this look on his face that Bruce knows all two well. Damian glared at Tony but Tony can’t be bothered by him. He doesn’t know where you are.

“Did you walk her up?” Tony asked.

“I carried in her shopping bags,” Bruce said. “And then I had to come back to Gotham.”

“Her phone is off and on the counter. I checked. She isn’t there,” Tony said.

22:00 EST. Scarecrow’s Hideout, Gotham, NJ.

“No, Daddy! Please don’t! P-Please don’t kill him!” You cried out.

It freaked Tony out. You’re terrified. You had been kidnapped and dosed with some psychotic. And you keep calling him. You’re begging him not to kill someone but who?

“B-Bruce, d-don’t go,” you whimpered.

Batman pulled out the anti-venom for the fear toxin. He’s hopeful that it’s the most up to date as Scarecrow takes his time to perfect each variant. It should at least dim down your hallucinations.

“What are you doing?!” Tony yelled running to where you and Batman are in the warehouse.

“Get away! B-BRUCE!” You screamed seeing a scary monster with big fangs in front of you. “HELP!”

He injected you with the anti venom into your thigh like an epipen. He hates seeing people close to him go through their worst nightmares. He’s clearly a part of it.

Your dad attacked the Batman while the rest of the team handle the goons as well as Scarecrow. Batman is quick to dodge the attacks as your father is a bit sloppy in his technique.

“I’m trying to help, Tin-Can,” Batman hissed.

Nightwing quickly came to your aid and fought off goons with Black Widow.

-on the quinjet. Not taken off yet.

“Bruce,” you cried for.

“You should call the billionaire,” Natasha suggested.

Tony huffed. However, Batman came aboard. He could careless about the others. You’re calling his name. He crouched down in front of you and took off the cowl in front of you.

“Bruce,” you whispered.

You went into his arms and cried in relief as he held you tightly. The others turned to see that Bruce Wayne is Batman. It’s shocking especially for Tony. He’s always thought so low of Bruce Wayne. He thought Bruce was just like him before becoming ironman. But it all had been a show for Bruce to put on.

“D-Don’t leave me,” you begged Bruce.

“I’m right here,” he said softly.

“I- I— I c-can’t lose you,” you whimpered.

You’re holding onto him so tightly. You don’t want to let go of him. Tony could tell this. Bruce means a lot to you and probably more than your father will know.

“Shhhh, breathe, Honey,” he said.

Bucky came over with a blanket and put it over you. Bruce helped wrapped it around you.

“You should get seated,” Bucky said.

Bruce scooped you up and sat down on the bench.

“You know you look like shit,” Tony said.

Of course he does. He’s bleeding. He’s got bruising on his face. It’s all because of Tony using his metal fists to beat him. He’s only human.

The jet took off to the upstate compound. Bruce kept you close and reassured you that he’s okay and that he has you.

08:00 EST. Avengers Compound, Medbay, New York.

“Hi,” Bruce said when you opened up your eyes.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked seeing that you’re shaking a little.

You nodded your head looking at him. He’s in a black Avengers issued hoodie. His hair isn’t styled like how it usually is. He’s patched up and makeup isn’t covering his bruises. He’s sitting in a swivel stool right at your bedside.

“You’re really Batman?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled and said, “I knew it.”

Bruce chuckled. He stood up from his seat. He leaned over the bed railing and kissed your forehead.

“Can I go home with you, Mr. Batman?” You asked.

“I don’t think your father would like that,” he said.

“Screw him,” you said jokingly.

“Excuse me?” Tony said walking in with Alfred behind him.

“Master Bruce, I brought you a suit so you can change out of those awful clothes,” Alfred said.

“That is rude,” Tony said.

“My sincerest apologies, I do not care,” Alfred said.

You laughed seeing your dad’s face. Bruce thanked Alfred.

“I’ll be right back, Darling,” Bruce said.

Alfred and him headed off. Alfred went off back to the car while Bruce went into the bathroom to get changed. He put his batsuit in the black suit protector and he covered what bruises he could with makeup. Only the Avengers who went on the rescue mission to get you and Dr. Cho know about his alter ego.

“I still don’t like him,” Tony said.

“That’s a lie,” you said.

“You really like him, don’t you?” your dad asked.

“Yeah, he makes me really happy, Daddy,” you said.

“You know he’s got like 20 kids,” he said.

“So do you,” you sassed. “They just aren’t legally yours and most are fully grown.”

“Maybe we can all go out to dinner or something,” Tony said.

“I’d like that,” you said.

Bruce came into the room and Tony turned his head to see the billionaire fresh faced— no longer sporting any nasty bruises.

“What happened to the bruises?” Tony asked.

“Concealer,” Bruce said simply.

“Your butler brought you makeup?” Tony asked.

“I have a secret identity to protect, Stark,” Bruce said. “And no, he didn’t bring me any. It’s in my belt.”

You laughed and said, “your tool belt is like chick’s purse.”

Bruce smiled at you and said, “the boys would laugh at that.”

“Wait,” you said connecting the dots. “Damian isn’t Robin, is he?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Bruce said.

#batman x female reader #bruce wayne x female reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x stark!reader #bruce wayne x rich!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark #marvel/dc crossover #marvel dc crossover #bruce wayne x bff!reader

[divine-mistake]

it's messy inside, let me take your coat

Summary: “I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut, female nudity), strong language, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of fluff, soft and nervous Bucky Barnes, original female character friends, one-night stand, body insecurity, anxiety

Word Count: 8723

A/N: This story was written for @eurynome827 and her 2k follower challenge with the prompt "Mimosas and Bloody Marys at brunch." Thank you for hosting and congrats again on your milestone!

main masterlist | AO3

“Cheers!”

The flutes clink together, orange juice sloshing and spilling and dripping down the glasses and onto the table as your giggles fade into the background noise of the café’s patio. You tip your head back as you drink, mimosas bubbly in your throat like your own happiness, threatening to pour out of you and dribble onto your shirt, already tipsy.

“God,” Carissa says, throwing herself back into the metal chair, “I cannot wait to have his babies.”

Beside her, Kora claps. “I can’t wait to be an aunt! I’m going to spoil them all so rotten you’re going to want to throttle me by the end of it.”

“Spoil them all you want, I’m having eight of ‘em.”

At that, you go ahead and polish off your drink, carbonation stinging your throat, and while you set the empty glass down your hand goes up in the air, signaling the waiter for another.

Sara points at you. “I’m with her.” She makes a face at Carissa. “If you have eight kids I will make like your dad and bounce.”

Kora slaps her on the knee but the four of you descend into laughter anyway, and it’s easy and light and beautiful, like always. Washington D.C. can be pretty in this way—iron-wrought fencing and fancy metal tables and red patio tiling. Good food, better mimosas, best friends. There’s a breeze in the air that’s calling for autumn, scattering cloth napkins sitting in laps and spreading the scent of fresh baked bread.

The bags at your feet carrying your new shoes for the winter wedding that’s approaching rustle. That feeling isn’t just D.C. It’s excitement and love and adoration, too.

Carissa, bride to be, catches you in her gaze. “When are you going to finally settle down, huh?” She gestures across the table at you with her half-filled mimosa. Everyone else looks at you too, waiting for your response.

You shrug. “You’re having plenty of babies, I don’t need any.”

“I don’t mean babies,” she says. “I mean a human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment.”

“You need—no, you deserve—someone to take care of you!” Kora adds. “You’re always taking care of everyone. Don’t you want someone to, y’know, take care of you?”

“I have plenty of vibrators in my empty apartment.”

Sara snorts, covering her mouth. The waiter delivers another round, thank god.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask, sighing. “You’re just bothering me ‘cause it’s wedding season and you want to set me up with your weird—”

“He’s not weird,” Carissa interrupts. “He’s tall and he’s mysterious which is exactly your type.”

“She’ll find someone when the time is right,” Sara says. “Just ‘cause we’re happy with our boyfriends doesn’t mean she needs one to be happy.”

“Thank you, Sara, my one-true-best-friend-in-the-whole-wide-world.” You force your glass against hers in a loud clank, turning the heads of all the patrons on the café’s patio before taking a gulp. Your face is already getting a little hot, the alcohol hitting you. This is why you aren’t allowed to pregame before you go to brunch anymore.

“We’re not trying to force you,” Kora starts, but her mouth is pulled into a concerned frown. “We really do just want you to be as happy as we are, that’s all.”

You smile at her. “I know.”

And you do know. You understand. It’s been years now since you’ve had anything real—anything worthwhile, to be specific. At some point, the relationships slowed down. Boyfriends became friends with benefits when you were working on your masters. Friends with benefits became ignored booty calls at two in the morning when you started your dissertation, on the road to get your doctorate. Now, you’re lucky to go home with someone from the bar, and they never, ever, come home with you.

It’s okay. You aren’t lonely. The right person just hasn’t landed in your lap, and maybe that’s kind of because it’s not open, but it’s just ‘cause you’re busy. You’re busy. Passionate. Need to change the world.

Love can wait.

The next mimosa is finished and you’re feeling a little fuzzy.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell Carissa. “I’m happy for all of you, and I’m happy with my life, and I’m happy that we’re all together and we’re celebrating and I’m happy that you all care about me enough to worry but I’m perfectly fine with how things are.”

Carissa smiles, but it’s got too much teeth. “I could set you up with Kie—”

“No, no setting me up with Kieran or Harry or Josh or anyone. But especially not Kieran.”

You’d already fucked him once and it wasn’t worth the experience.

“Fine! Fine.” Carissa busies herself with her drink. “No setting you up with Kieran.”

“Good. Now let’s talk about the reception!” You pull out your phone and open the planning spreadsheet, smiling. “So I called the venue for you about the tables…”

This is easier. Planning Carissa’s wedding, helping support her, being excited for her—that’s easier than talking about your love life. If anything, this is your love life. Taking care of the people you love, your best friends, having fun and being together and romanticizing the time you spend with them. It’s not just mimosas over brunch and a green spreadsheet for wedding planning. With them, it’s the wind in your hair and the sun making your eyes sparkle and the alcohol making all your insides feel effervescent.

It’s love. It’s perfection. It’s your own brand of happiness.

And sure, maybe it’s a little defensive, but this is easier than loving someone and trying to make them love you. It’s easier.

“Whose dress are we still waiting on?” Carissa asks a little later, mouth full of avocado and bacon and looking very un-bridely.

“Mine,” Kora says, a little guiltily. “It’s at the tailor getting taken in—again.”

“I have mine,” you pipe up, wiping your mouth of jam. “And god, do I look like a full course Michelin star meal in that piece. Like, we’re talking ass for days, legs for days, tits for—”

“Excuse me, ma’am, excuse me.” A man, towering over the café table makes himself known, dressed in dark clothes and wearing a look on his visage that you can’t name.

“—days,” you finish, swallowing hard.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says with a smile, “but I’m raising money for uh, breast cancer awareness, and I was hoping you would donate and sign up for uh, a marathon we’re doing.”

You blink. “Sorry,” you tell him, “but we don’t carry cash on us.” With a small smile, you nod at him, your eyes passing over your friends and looking around the café to see if any of the other patrons have noticed what’s going on. None of them look bothered.

“Not even for breast cancer awareness? C’mon, girl.”

“We don’t carry cash,” Sara repeats with a deadpan, but her eyes don’t meet his.

He doesn’t look at her either, content to stare at you, and your skin crawls.

“What about signing up for the marathon?”

“Fine,” you snap. Anything to get him to leave you all alone. “How do I sign up?”

“You give me your phone number and I’ll text you the details.” His grin is a little wider now, edging a little closer to where you sit at the table. You’re regretting that third mimosa. You aren’t on your game. The panic running through you is covered in a champagne haze.

You scoff. “No way.” Immediately you grab your purse, digging through it, and you slam a handful of loose change onto the table in front of him. “Here—a donation. Now please leave.”

His face twists into a scowl, but he scoops the money off the table and pockets it.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch,” he suddenly says, and anger courses through you until you shoot up from your seat, chair skidding behind you. He’s tall—much taller than your short stature. But, fuck it, the alcohol’s dimming the fear and fueling the need for you to protect your friends.

When you glance over, Carissa is already gathering the bags, eyes wide. Kora has her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to make herself smaller, ready to run. Sara’s phone is in her hand, 9-1-1 already dialed.

And still, no one in the café is doing a goddamn thing.

“Excuse me?” You glare up at the man.

“I just wanted your number, you fat bitch.” He sneers. “No wonder you’ve got an attitude, you obviously don’t get laid.”

Really, you can sit there and say it isn’t the fat comment. It’s not the insult. You’re used to that, with your overly-generous curves and your soft jawline and the fact that you’re wearing a skirt showing off the cellulite running through your thighs like a creek and a crop top that lets everyone peek at your stretch marks. You’re used to it.

And, really, you could handle this better. You certainly have before ‘cause this isn’t the first time you’ve been hustled or the first time some creep has hit on you. Old men have been slapping your ass in public since you were sixteen. You’re hot, you get it. If you saw yourself on the street you’d want a piece of your own goddamn ass, too. It comes with the territory, but it’s gross. And it’s sad but you’re used to it. So it’s not him calling you a fat bitch.

It’s the comment about getting laid. It’s sore as fuck.

You grab your would-be fourth mimosa and drench him in it, the glass slipping from your fingers and shattering upon the patio’s tiled floor in an instant.

“Slut!” The man lunges for you and you jump away, bumping into the table and losing your footing. You fall to the ground as glass comes crashing down around you, spilling sweet-smelling alcohol all over you. Ouch. Your friends scream, but you can’t take your eyes off him.

And then a gleam of black and gold blurs past you and grabs the creep by his neck, throwing him down. Now, a tall, wide body dressed in a dark hoodie is blocking you, guarding you, sheltering you.

“Try it,” Mystery Savior says.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Carissa chants, calling your name.

Your hand is sticky when you wave her away. “Get out of here, I’m fine. Just go. I’ll meet you—meet you at Kora’s.”

“We’re not leaving you!” Sara shouts, but something, maybe adrenaline or fear or fucking champagne, is running through your blood vessels at high speed.

“Just go!” you scream back at her. “I’m not fucking kidding, go!”

Because if there is one redeemable thing about you, it’s the length you’ll go to keep the people you love safe. And Mystery Savior might have just choked a creep out for you, but he also choked a creep out for you, and that’s enough to get your heart pounding in your ears. You don’t know who the good guy is—if there even is a good guy here.

“Fuck,” the creep curses, but it comes out raspy as he grasps at his quickly bruising neck. “You’re a—” he wheezes, “—you’re a murderer!”

Mystery Savior holds up his hands, and that’s when you see it. The black and gold of a vibranium arm just peeking out of the sleeve of his hoodie.

This isn’t a murderer. Not a Mystery Savior either. This is James Bucky Barnes, the Avenger, holy shit. Definitely good guy. Probably. He’s reformed, the news talks about it.

“Caught me,” he says, voice monotone. “What are you gonna do about it?”

If you weren’t currently sprawled on the ground, covered in mimosa, and panicking wildly about whatever is unfolding right in front of you, the very buzzed part of your brain would really appreciate the smoothness of Bucky’s voice when he said that, the cool, calm, collected delivery.

You’ll file it in the back of your mind for when you go back to your empty apartment.

“That fat ass ain’t worth it,” the creep chokes out, scrambling to get up. As soon as he’s on his feet, poised to take off, Bucky moves faster than you could have imagined and grabs the guy by his shirt.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” You can’t see his face, but you think Bucky might be smiling.

A portly man, a little shorter than Bucky, pushes through the gathering crowd, eyes wide and panicked, face red, already sweating. When you glance at his golden nametag, it reads: Jason, Manager. Cool that the manager showed up this late. If Bucky hadn’t stepped in, you’d probably be in a pile of limbs on the ground by now. Also—is he going to comp your bill? ‘Cause at this point, you’re starting to think you deserve it.

Okay, not a good time to be distracted.

“Thank you for getting him, sir,” the manager says, a little breathless. “Winter Soldier, sir.”

“It’s Bucky,” he says, and then he shoves the creep toward the manager. “Not sure why you didn’t step in before he got violent.”

Exactly! Why did everyone just stand around and do nothing as some six-foot man hustled the four women sitting beside the street? You glance around again, seeing your friends have disappeared and now, both the wait staff and other café patrons, are crowded around your table. It’s a little unsettling how no one cared to even look at you until everything escalated.

As the manager grabs the creep and hauls him off toward the street to wait for the cops, Bucky Barnes relaxes his shoulders and turns toward you slowly, and it’s—well, for lack of a better word—it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

He looks nothing like the superhero in the pictures. Here, with the D.C. sun hitting him unabashedly, his slate eyes like glass marbles, the lines surrounding them wrinkled in concern, his tongue darting between his lips to wet the skin where his teeth bite down, a habitual sore, his short locks ruffled by the breeze or maybe the fight or maybe he just wakes up perfectly rumpled, here he looks like a man.

“You okay?” he asks, somehow nonchalant and still worried, and he holds out a calloused hand to you.

Or, well, maybe Bucky had been watching. And maybe that’s enough.

God, you don’t even know this man outside of his Avenger persona, the headlines you read on the news, the pictures you see on social media, but there’s just something about him that makes you want to trust him. Like he guarantees safety, and you know that no one, least of all an Avenger, can guarantee safety. Even if that’s their job.

Stop feeling safe around him.

But you take his hand anyway, his long, thick fingers folding over your own like he means to swallow them, and Bucky pulls you up as though you weigh nothing. In fact, he does it so easily that you crash straight into him with a yelp and his arms instantly slide around your waist to catch you as your knees go weak, buckling beneath you.

When you look up at him, your hands trying to find purchase in the material of his hoodie, he’s staring down at you with the hint of a smile.

“Thanks,” you say, quiet and a little stunned.

His lips crack a little wider. “No problem.”

For a few seconds longer than deemed socially appropriate, you stare at Bucky, captured by the changing color of his blue-gray eyes. And then, as if god is slapping you on the back of your head, you blink and remember that you are covered in alcohol and currently pressed against the chest of a superhero, and your eyes go wide as you quickly push away from him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m disgusting—you probably have orange juice all over you now, fuck.”

“Hey,” he says, his flesh hand wrapping around your upper arm to steady you, “it’s okay. Seriously though, are you alright?”

You open your mouth to say something and then shut it again when you realize nothing sounds like the right answer. Bucky waits patiently though, peering down at you, his grip a little more grounding than you wish it was.

“Yes?” you say, but it sounds like a question. “I mean, maybe? I’m—It’s not like I’m not used to this happening. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky frowns. “Used to it?”

You shrug. “Not all men are superheroes. Most don’t have good intentions. And I’m not even that pretty, can you imagine what other women deal with?”

It slips out before you realize it, the self-hatred you keep at bay.

“Not pretty?” Bucky’s face twists into something confused. “That guy assaulted you just to get your number. I’m not saying it’s right, but if you think you aren’t pretty, well that’s just wrong.”

Oh god, what are you supposed to say now? So stupid. If you had just kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have forced an Avenger—a really fucking hot Avenger—to give you an awkward compliment and now you have to scramble to figure out what to say. If you deny the compliment, you’ll look ungrateful. If you accept the compliment, that’s too egotistical. Too into yourself.

You’ve backed yourself into a corner here, and Bucky’s on the other side of the ring.

“Look,” he interrupts your inner monologuing, running a hand through his hair and glancing away, “if you don’t mind me saying it, you’re—well—you’re gorgeous. I hope you know that.”

Your mouth falls open and you stare at him, nervous energy radiating off him, and when his eyes shift back to yours he coughs.

“I mean, don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not—I’m not trying to hit on you after what just happened, I promise.” His eyes go wide, then, and he throws his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. “That’s not to say I’m not! Not hitting on you. I mean, shit, I just think you’ve gotta be the most beautiful dame—woman, sorry—that I’ve seen in years.”

There’s something soft about it, something sweetly suffocating, like buttercream frosting in the back of your throat, about his nervousness. The gentle panic, the way his eyes go back and forth from the ground at your feet to your eyes like he’s checking to make sure he hasn’t said the wrong thing, but he just keeps putting his foot in his mouth like it’s a magnet to metal. It’s endearing. It’s real.

“Do you want to get a drink with me?” you blurt out, and Bucky blanches. “I know it’s only, like, noon but I need a drink. And I owe you. For saving me.”

He relaxes at this, another one of those small smiles easing its way onto his face, and his shoves his hands into his pockets like he wasn’t just panicking two seconds ago about calling you a dame, which if anyone else had done, you would have socked them in the mouth, but he’s like one-hundred-and-six or something and you kinda get it.

“The drinks you’re wearing ain’t enough, doll?”

A laugh breaks from your mouth and he lights up, grinning.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You can’t help the smile splitting your own lips. “Sure, make fun of the girl who just got hustled, easy prey.”

The way he looks at you is burning.

“I’m Bucky,” he says. “James Bucky Barnes.”

“I know,” you say with a laugh. When you give him your name, he almost looks like he wants to try it out, but he keeps it on his tongue like he’s tasting it instead.

“So, a drink?” he asks, a little cautiously.

“I’d like that.” Then, you look down and curse. “But I’m gross. I really need to go home and change.”

Bucky nods, but a look of disappointment crosses his face, there and then gone again, just enough to make your heart tighten into a painful brick weight atop your chest. Everything in your brain is saying no, don’t do it, don’t do it. But your heart hurts and it hurts for him, a man you’ve only met in news articles and awkward interviews until now, when he’s saved you from being slapped around by some creep or worse, and god, you have such a soft heart sometimes and it’s gotten you in trouble before but you can’t just ignore it.

“Do you like Bloody Marys?”

His eyes meet yours again and you’re drawn into the storm that swirls in his irises once again.

“Never had one,” he admits. “They don’t look much like a drink.”

“Well, if you’re interested, I have the stuff to make a really good one at home. And then I could change and clean up a little and still y’know, thank you for saving my life? I mean it’s not much, but—”

“Yes,” he says, his voice as sure and steady as it was earlier when he was in hero mode. “That sounds great.”

Oh, you’re fucked. You’re so fucked.

The walk back to your apartment isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not easy. Bucky walks beside you like a forcefield, using his body to guide you through the throng of people walking along the streets without even touching you. He reminds you of a sheepdog. The thought almost makes you laugh more than a few times during your stroll.

He walks with his hands in his pockets most of the way, especially his metal one. And he isn’t much of a talker, not that you mind as long as he keeps answering the questions you’re asking him, like what kind of food he likes and what he thinks about sphynx cats and if he likes memes—of which his answers consist of anything, what the hell is that and why is it naked, and a resounding yes.

Bucky asks some of his own questions, though they are few and far between and a lot more cohesive and meaningful than your own. He asks about how long you’ve lived in Washington D.C., about what you do for a living, and about your friends.

“Why did they leave you there?” He’s staring at you when he asks, brows sharp and furrowed.

“Because I told them to,” you answer. “I didn’t want them to get hurt or anything. And I’m kind of the person that if I’m yelling, you better listen ‘cause I’m usually yelling for a good reason.”

He nods like he understands, but his lips are pressed flat. “They shouldn’t have left you.”

You shrug. “I wanted them to. I would’ve been more pissed if they hadn’t run off and gotten tangled up in the middle of everything.”

“You’re a good person,” he says, still looking at you. His face is softer, that hint of a curve in his mouth the only sign that anything’s changed.

You give him your own smile. “Maybe.”

It’s only once you get to the front door of your apartment that things shift and your stomach rolls, heavy and fluttering light all at once, a not-so-familiar-anymore anxiety chilling your skin. The keys in your hand jingle and you aren’t sure if it's because your fingers are shaking or not.

“It’s not much,” you say, beckoning him inside, “but y’know, it’s enough for me.”

Bucky steps through the door with a reverence, a caution, a carefulness that strikes you right in the heart. He looks out of place for a minute, like he’s never entered an apartment before. And then, as you kick off your shoes, losing the extra inch of height, smiling and gesturing for him to do the same, there’s something in him that snaps and bends and his shoulders fall, relaxed.

He toes off his boots, leaving them by the door, and suddenly there’s a different air in the apartment. Almost intimate. Comfortable.

Stop it. You don’t even know him.

“Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? A glass of water or something?”

Bucky shakes his head as he follows behind you, slowly, his eyes roaming over your space. It’s really not much, you know that. A little more than a box with a bathroom and a bedroom attached, what with the living room and the kitchen being “open-concept,” a word you’re pretty sure was invented to sell tiny apartments for more money. You don’t even have a table to sit at—just a couch to plunk down on while you’re eating.

“I’m alright, doll,” he says, running a hand over the soft cushions of said couch. “You go change, I’m fine.”

As soon as you disappear into your bedroom, the door locked behind you, you lean against the wood and let out a sigh. This is awkward. What the fuck were you thinking? Asking an Avenger—Bucky Barnes—back to your apartment for a drink? A bloody mary? Who are you trying to kid?

It’s been years, literal years since you’ve invited anyone back to your apartment. In fact, you don’t think anyone besides your friends has even stepped foot inside. Maybe they haven’t even made it to the door.

Why would you invite him here?

In frustration, you strip your dirty shirt off and throw it onto the floor, shimmy-ing out of your skirt and kicking it toward the hamper just as well. You sort through your drawers, looking for something comfortable to throw on. Or maybe you should wear something nice? Something that looks similar to what you wore to brunch. But Bucky’s dressed in jeans and a hoodie. But he also looks like a modern god in just that.

Fuck. You are fucked. Why did you ask him back to your place for a drink? What did you think would happen?

You throw an old band t-shirt over your head and pull a black pair of loose shorts up over your hips, cursing when you realize they don’t even hit mid-thigh. Does that seem suggestive? Is Bucky going to think you want to fuck him if you walk out in these?

Do you want to fuck Bucky?

No. No. This is not what this is about. You invited him over because you owed him a drink and because you needed to change and because he seemed so damn sad when you said you couldn’t go out for a drink. So you asked him to come home with you. Oh, god, that’s so complicated. What have you gotten yourself into?

Stop. Just stop thinking.

But—you have to admit it to yourself—you want it. You want him.

Your friends’ earlier words repeat in your head. A human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment. They aren’t wrong for thinking that it’s something you want. For most of your life, you’ve lived thinking that you shouldn’t need someone. But isn’t it okay to want someone? You’re tired of being alone. Bucky Barnes is the first man that’s been in your empty apartment since you moved in, and maybe it’s a bold move, but you know what?

You throw yourself out of your bedroom, probably looking a little too frazzled, and you quickly comb your fingers through your hair as nonchalantly as possible to fix the flyaways. Bucky’s sitting on your couch, looking lonely, his hands rigid on his spread knees.

He looks like he fits there, on your sofa, in your empty apartment.

“Look,” you say in a breath, catching his attention. When he looks at you, his eyes sweep over your body like he’s never seen a woman before; shy, timid, a little nervous, but there’s something else there. It’s the same thing that’s heating your insides right now.

“I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”

Bucky’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then a cocky grin is curling his lips up, his face brightening the entire apartment. You don’t know if your body is warm because you’re embarrassed at your own daring or because Bucky Barnes is so beautiful it’s criminal, but you know that there’s static and stretch in your limbs and desire pooling in your belly. Liquor and lust are chasing away whatever fears you had before.

“Really?” he asks, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that reminds you of what a fucking flirt he is, or that he can be, and you think butterflies might be taking up residence in your tummy.

“Really,” you mimic, wearing your own charmed smile. Bucky lets his head fall to the side as he looks over you, then crooks one metal finger at you, beckoning you to join him on the couch. With as much confidence as you can muster, you stride toward him, putting a little swing in your steps. Maybe you look crazy doing it, but it’s enough that his eyes flicker down to watch your hips, and it sends a thrill through you.

“This isn’t like me,” you tell him as you sink down beside him, as close as possible while still giving him space to bolt if he needs to. “I don’t invite strangers over to my house like this.”

He smiles and it’s warm and big and easy. “I’m glad you did,” he says.

God, his eyes are pretty. “Me too.”

With Bucky’s thigh pressed against yours, his hand resting dangerously close to one of your bare knees, knuckles brushing your skin every time he shifts, you’re melting into his touch and you don’t care. It’s intoxicating—not the alcohol, which you swear should be wearing off by now, but him.

“I don’t do this often,” you say again, like you need to defend your bold behavior.

“Does that mean I’m special?”

“I think so,” you murmur, only loud enough for him to hear being this close.

Kinder than you thought possible, somehow simultaneously suave but still a little nervous, and yet authentic to a fault, Bucky Barnes is a thousand and one contradictions. Nothing like you ever thought he’d be. And maybe that’s what gives you the courage, the thought that someone so hardened could be so soft. That someone who looks like him, chiseled and striking and like a charcoal sketching on stark paper, could turn red at your innuendos and your charmed quips. That there’s a chance he could be attracted to you.

This—This is the connection you’ve been waiting for. The person who makes you feel like this. Tipsy when you shouldn’t be tipsy anymore.

“I know we barely know each other, but I really, really want you, Bucky.”

Your shoulder is pressed to his shoulder, your chest nearing his chest, your chin tipped up to stare at his eyes, his nose, his parted lips. Bucky stares down at you, his Adam’s apple dipping and bobbing as he swallows hard. Your lips curl, threatening to giggle. He’s so damn cute. How can someone like him, an Avenger, a super soldier, look so cute?

But the hand at your knee finally creeps up your skin, his hot palm glossing over your bare thigh, resting a little higher than a friendly touch would go. He presses indents—not too hard, but not too soft—into your plush, silken flesh.

“You do?” he asks, tongue darting out to wet his lip and you want to follow it back into his mouth with your own.

To answer, you push closer, your hand coming up to drape across his neck, a little off-balance as you sit up on your knees.

“Mhm,” you hum, and that’s all he needs to grasp your thigh roughly and drag you over him, seating you upon his lap as a squeak of surprise flies from your lips. His hands fall to your hips as if your body was made for him to hold and suddenly you’re looking down at him and he’s looking up at you instead, and god, he’s staring at you like you’re heaven and earth and everything he ever needed to be saved.

“I want you too,” he says, exhaling as if you’ve stolen all the air in his lungs.

“Then will you finally kiss me?” Your nose brushes his and his breath ghosts over your mouth.

Bucky’s lips surge up to meet yours, swallowing the last sounds of your words like it’s the first drink of water he’s had in years, cool and refreshing and tinged with smoke, something uniquely him.

As your hands thread through his short locks, desperate to hold onto him in any way, his fingers begin to curve over your ass. You rock into him, pressing against him harder, sucking at his plush lips as his tongue skims over your top lip until you grant him entry. Bucky kisses like he’s trying to taste every single part of you and it sends waves of pleasure through your belly and to your core, where you grind down until you feel his hardening length beneath you.

Immediately, you start to strip him of his hoodie, divesting him of that layer to feel the soft shirt beneath—but only barely because it’s hell trying to pull his hands away from where they’re touching you.

And he’s touching you everywhere. His fingers roam over every generous piece of your body. The silken planes of your thighs where he’s pushed your shorts up, the wide canyons of your hips, the bumpy hills of your waist where your stomach is too big and too soft and where he slips his mismatched hands under your shirt to trace the lines of your stretch marks. It isn’t long until he brushes by the band of your bra and then he’s tugging at the hem of the shirt, pulling away from your lips long enough to rid you of it.

You take the moment to rid him of his too, and then you’re both topless, still sitting atop his lap and panting from lack of air. No words are shared between you before Bucky is capturing your mouth again. It’s only passion, frenzied and hot and wanting.

His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra blindly as your teeth sink into his bottom lip, nipping and giggling and tangling your tongue around his. As soon as you hear the snap, you lean back and Bucky pulls it off you, flinging the offending garment somewhere else in the apartment.

Now, with your naked chest completely bared to him, you wait for it to happen. For his eyes to dart away, for the apprehension to cross his features, for the disgust to set it. The real reason that it’s been so long since you’ve invited someone into your empty apartment—into your empty life.

You’re scared.

Like you’re expecting the blow, you close your eyes and brace yourself, but you don’t cover up. You’ve learned not to cover up. You refuse to make yourself smaller, or prettier, or more tolerable for people. It’s why you don’t get entangled with one-night stands anymore, why you don’t ask strangers to come home with you, why you don’t let your girlfriends set you up with anyone. Because you refuse to make yourself something you’re not just to fit in, and that’s what always, always ends up happening.

Bucky touches you and it makes you flinch, his vibranium fingers a little chilly against the soft, warm skin of your stomach. He touches you and it’s electric, but you don’t open your eyes.

You’re too afraid to look and see the disappointment in his gorgeous blues.

His hands skim over your rib cage, sliding around the sides of your waist, his thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts. You shiver at the contact. He continues his trail upwards, but then he lays his palms on your shoulders and caresses over your neck, his fingers finally finding the edge of your soft jaw to cradle your face. A shaky breath leaves you.

“Look at me,” he whispers, closer than you thought.

And no matter how much you’ll berate yourself over it later, there is something so safe about Bucky Barnes that your lashes flutter and your eyes open, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, staring at you with those stormy sea eyes half-lidded and glazed over with lust, his pink lips parted in awe, and you gasp at the intensity that strikes right through the center of you.

“You’re…” he trails off, swallowing nervously again. “Doll, I don’t think I know a word in English that describes you.”

Bucky presses forward, his chest brushing against your hardened nipples, stealing your breath and then sealing your lips with a kiss that isn’t like before. This kiss isn’t needy or wanting or filled with teeth and tongue and desperation. This time, his mouth moves with yours as if he’s trying to spell out a thousand words in twenty different languages to tell you how he feels, his lips leading yours in a dance that isn’t worried about an audience or the music or if you step on his toes.

When he pulls away, you wonder if your mouth is as swollen as his.

“You’re perfect,” he says with a finality in his tone that almost makes you collapse into his arms.

Then, Bucky wastes no time and captures a nipple in between those swollen lips, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud noise in surprise. His metal hand finds your other breast, thumb stroking over the bud until you’re arching further into him. As his tongue traces patterns around one nipple, his fingers tweak and twist and pull its sister, and your hands grasp his broad shoulders in an attempt to hold on.

Finally, he presses gentle kisses over your rosy buds, all worn out by his touches, and then circles your breasts with more kitten licks and grazes of his teeth. Bucky’s hands settle at your hips again, fingers grasping your skin like he can’t get enough of the feel of you. He’s trying to imprint your body on his palms.

“I need to have you, doll,” he says all breathy as if he isn’t the one absolutely drenched right now. “Please. Please,” he asks so softly that you wonder if this is the man who even came to your rescue today, all tall and brooding. When you grind down on his lap again, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans as he lets out a groan and tightens his grip on your waist, you realize you’re not the only one feeling the tension.

Still, there’s something cheeky left in you and you reach out to swipe your finger across his nose, effectively booping it cutely. A grin splits your lips.

“You need me?” you ask teasingly. “What if I need you instead?”

It’s like it sets something ablaze in him or something, ‘cause as soon as you go in for another kiss, Bucky stands up from the couch, his hands cradling your ass as you shriek and wrap your legs around him in reflex.

“Oh my god—”

“Now you’ve done it,” he grunts, burying his face in your neck to pepper kisses all over the stretch of skin that encompasses your shoulder, your jawline, even up into your hairline by your ear.

“Oh my god, put me down Bucky, I’m—you’re gonna drop me, I’m too heavy!”

“Heavy?” He chuckles against your throat and the vibrations almost make you shudder in pleasure. God, what is this man doing to you? “Darlin’, I don’t think you know the meaning of heavy.”

Bucky flashes you a wide, almost predatory grin, and you wonder where that soft, nervous boy went.

“If I wanted to,” he says, his voice low and steady, “I could fuck you right here, in the middle of the room, for hours.” He must feel the shiver that goes through your entire body because he’s laughing again. “But I want to fuck you into your mattress if that’s okay. Can I do that?”

Your throat feels dry when you whisper, “Yes. Please.”

He punctuates your plea with a heated kiss to your lips, his tongue tasting the citrus and bubble from your mimosas, the alcohol long since worn off. It’s all him that you feel, all him that intoxicates you, and all him around you as he walks you into your bedroom, not even straining under your weight, and dumps you onto the middle of your sheets.

There, he cages you, hovering above you to kiss down your body, already intent on tearing your shorts off.

“Bucky,” you whine. In the afternoon light streaming through the single window in your room, his eyes are a startling color you wish you could name, all clear and confident and crystal and god, god, his fingers are already exploring the slit of your core so lightly it makes you flush and want to hide, your inner thighs sticky and coated in your own slick from how hot he’s made you with such simple touches.

“You want me?” he asks as if he doesn’t know.

“Yes,” you hiss in pleasure, body writhing beneath him. Bucky leans down to kiss the shell of your ear, his tongue blazing a hot trail that makes you moan and buck your hips up to meet his, but he won’t have any of that.

“Good,” he says, “‘cause I need to have you, and I don’t plan on letting you go ‘till I’ve gotten everything you’ve got to give, doll.”

That nervous Bucky, all awkward smiles and panicked glances and sweet lines, he’s gone. In his place is this Bucky, assured and charming and suave and smooth and making your eyes roll back into your head until a scream is threatening to burst from your lips unless he swallows it with his own kiss, which he does, over and over again.

“I’m gonna ravage you, darlin’.”

You aren’t sure which one you like better—but is it greedy to say both?

As the light of a new day spreads through your apartment, you awaken easily, softly, but painfully. Someone’s pulled the blankets up to your chin and tucked them around you, and the thought leaves an empty feeling inside of you. When you stretch, every part of you burns deliciously, a memory from the hours spent in bed, on the couch, on the fucking counter after you’d eaten and he still wasn’t satisfied, and then again in bed.

And now, looking over at the space beside you, he’s gone. His clothes are gone from the floor. There’s no sound echoing in the building. He even left you tucked in, for god’s sake.

Your apartment is just as it always has been—empty.

With a groan, you kick the covers off and plant your feet on the floor, willing yourself to get up. The ache in your muscles is nothing more than a pleasant memory, an unpleasant reminder of the marks he left on you, his absence.

Stop it. You shouldn’t have even gotten attached to him in the first place. You knew what this was, and he did too, and it’s no wonder he’s gone this morning.

Get over it.

You swipe an oversized shirt from your dresser and throw it over your head as you stride out toward the kitchen, content to go pantyless for the day after the abuse you put it through last night. Yawning, your eyes screwed shut in another big stretch to warm up your overused muscles, you hear him before you see him.

“Mornin’, doll.”

Like that, your eyes snap open and he’s there, standing in your tiny kitchen in nothing but last night’s boxers, looking fucking glorious in the spotlight of the warm sun that’s streaming through the room and highlighting the counters.

“Bucky?” you ask, but it’s a little loud and a little shrieking, something you don’t intend. But all he does is smile at you, metal fingers tapping the plastic countertop, so at ease he just looks like he belongs there.

“I thought I’d make you breakfast but you have nothing in your fridge,” he jokes, leaning back against the drawers and crossing his arms over his bare chest.

You shift, embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah, I need to go shopping.”

A long stretch of silence fills your apartment and you’re unsure of what to say in order to break it. Bucky’s clearly watching you, drinking in the sight of your love-marked body, bruises peeking out of the hem of your shirt that barely skims past the tops of your thighs, and you remember you’re wearing nothing underneath.

And he’s here, right here, and you really aren’t sure why. It seems the two of you have almost switched places. Where Bucky was nervous and shy at first, he’s now confident and comfortable and you’re left with heated cheeks and a tongue-tied in knots. Whatever boldness that came over you all yesterday has fled.

It’s left a deep pocket of insecurity inside of you.

“Why are you still here?” you ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, like you don’t care, but your voice shakes a little. He’s too far away to really tell, but you think a flash of hurt passes over Bucky’s brow.

“‘Cause you still owe me a drink,” he says as if it's obvious, a small smile still sitting so prettily on his mouth.

You blink, a little confused, but shuffle closer. “Bloody Mary?”

“Yeah,” he says with a deep breath, his grin growing bigger the closer that you come toward him. “Will you still make me one?”

You nod, toes finally crossing into the kitchen, and then you and Bucky are staring at each other. There are scratches left like the bones of a graveyard on his arms, and you’re almost sure if he turned around they’d cover his neck and back just as well. Seeing those reddened marks, similar to the bruises he’s left on you, makes you relax your shoulders just a little.

“Do you need help?” he asks, eyes sweeping over your barely covered form.

“No,” you say, heading to the kitchen which is little more than a countertop, a stove, and a fridge. “But you can keep me company.”

So this is what happens in the morning after. Bucky leans against the counter next to you, watching you with a burning intensity that nearly matches last night’s, and you pull all the ingredients out and line them up next to two glasses and try not to falter under his gaze. He looks at you like you’re this fascinating thing he needs to study and it bothers you, but only in the best of ways.

“Do you always stare this hard at your dates?” A smile plays at your lips as you crack open the tomato juice.

He doesn’t look away. “No,” he says, but he sounds unsure. “Is this a date, doll?” There’s something in his voice that you can’t figure out, faintly hopeful, fairly confused. Vaguely surprised, even.

You shrug. “Maybe.” Especially after all of yesterday, you would hope he thought so.

But Bucky shakes his head. “No.”

Ow.

That hurt more than you were expecting it to. Calling yourself his date had only been a joke meant to lighten the mood, ease him up a little, cure the tension swirling in the room. You guess you should have expected it, though. You owed him a drink—he didn’t owe you a date. It wasn’t supposed to be a date, anyway.

All you had done was sleep together, for fuck’s sake. This is why you hate morning afters. This is why you would have preferred it if he had been gone when you woke.

But was that even true? Because the relief you felt when you found him waiting for you in the kitchen was immense and hard to understand.

You open the bottle of vodka a little more forcefully than you intended.

“When we go out on a real date,” he continues, and your eyes meet, “I’ll be taking you out and treating you.” A slow grin crawls over his face that reminds you of his wicked mouth and what it can do and the sight makes your heart beat and beat and beat, faster and faster, like the wings of a hummingbird, quick quick quick.

“When?”

“When,” he affirms.

“That’s bold of you,” you say, popping ice cubes from a tray into the glasses.

“Maybe,” he says, “but I know what I want now.” Bucky shifts a little closer to you, his vibranium arm brushing by the bare skin of your soft one as you try and focus on not spilling the juice, but you can smell him and he smells like cedar and bergamot and smoke and clove. A smell that consumed you whole last night, surrounded you, drowned you in it.

He’s so close you can feel him inhale.

“I’ve lived a long time not knowing—not getting to decide—what I want,” he admits, his voice low and quiet and soothing your nervous heart. “So you can call it bold, but I call it right.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your hands still and you look up at him, eyes wide. In the soft white lights of your tiny kitchen, sharing the tight space with him so close, Bucky’s eyes are thunder and rain and lightning all at once, peace and chaos both, promising release and the sweet scent of earth and oil afterward.

“You don’t even know me,” you whisper.

Bucky leans closer. “But I want to.”

He’s so close, too close, close enough that he can surely hear the rhythm of your heart, unsteady and racing just for him. You could surge forward and kiss him, stake your claim once again on those pinkened lips that have held your attention from the first time you saw them, feel the stubble of his jaw rub against the soft peach fuzz of your own, let it remind you of how it felt against the apex of your thighs as he made you cry out over and over again, breaking on his tongue over and over again.

It makes you feel dizzier than any alcohol ever could.

But Bucky reaches over, past you, and takes one of the glasses from your hand, warm fingers brushing over your cooler ones. He holds it up, toward you, gesturing for a toast. With a swallow, hardly glancing away from his slate eyes to grab the other glass, you tap your Bloody Mary against his with a soft clink.

He watches you over the rim as he takes his first sip and you think he might be smirking. Then, he darts toward you and takes your lips in his own, tasting of spice and tomato juice and perfection, all Bucky, all for you.

When he pulls away, too quickly, he rests his forehead against your and looks down at you, staring into your hazy eyes.

“Will you let me stay?” he asks, like he doesn’t know what you’ll say. The soft, nervous Bucky is peeking out from behind his confident visage once again, his voice hopeful and frightened and the hand that’s gliding beneath your shirt and over your waist more timid than it was last night.

There’s a million things you can say. You can tell him to take you out to brunch instead. You can tell him you’re too busy. You can tell him that this was a one-night stand, it was only ever meant to be a one night stand, and that it was fun but you can’t afford to get attached to him and god, you know you’re going to get attached to him if he stays and that scares the ever-living fuck out of you. You can tell him that it’s messy here, inside your empty apartment, inside your empty heart. You can tell him that he could take up residence here. You can tell him so, so many things.

“Yes,” you say instead, and Bucky laughs against your mouth when he kisses you hard once more.

#Eury2kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #plus sized reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes smut #smut #divine masterlist

[itsdanii]

Because I’m an angst-addicted ball of misery, is it okay if I request drabbles of Fuckboy!Atsumu and Fuckboy!Oikawa being the crush of the reader but she knows of how they treat other girls and doesn’t want to end up heart broken and since she’s shy and introverted, the boys barely know her aside from her being a classmate?

She tries to keep a simple distance away from them until said boys randomly show an interest in her and they start showing her attention, love, and treating her better than the girls they messed with until after a few weeks she overhears from them or their teammates that it’s out of pity/they were bored because Y/N seemed easy to mess with.

Y/N doesn’t let them know she overheard them, instead a switch is flipped and she’s emotionless around them and avoids them. When they ask why she’s like that, she simply says “I won’t let you hurt me like the others.” She basically treats them like they don’t exist (she’s friendly to everyone but them) and said f!boys regret it and bust their asses to fix everything between them (I read how you felt about full angst, so the reader just blocked their number, social media’s, and treat them like the plague until they prove that they truly love her or regret messing with her :) )

Hey, bub. Sorry for the slight delay! I hope you don't mind me making slight adjustments about the plot for my comfort 🥺 And uh... this drabble turned out to be a oneshot because I got carried away. I only did Atsumu's part which went over 3k+ works 👁️👄👁️ Anyway, I hope that you still like it. Have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! ♥️

Karma's a b*tch

genre: angst to fluff

warning/s: rude behavior (resolved), cursing, self doubt and insecurity(?), do message me if I missed any

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason

ft. fboy!atsumu miya, f!reader

never play with a girl's feelings. wanna know why? just read the title.

You stared at the back of Atsumu's head dreamily, your elbows propped on your desk as you basically ignored the world around you.

Contrary to the belief that noisy students always sat on the back, Atsumu and his twin were actually seated in front. Despite being in the middle of a class discussion, the two kept on chattering as if the teacher didn't exist. The teacher basically gave up already trying to shut them up since they never listened anyway.

You knew that she could've just sent them to detention but of course, who would do that to the miya twins? People almost worshipped them and your teacher wasn't excluded. Everytime she entered the room, you noticed how she would always cast a glance at the Miya twins and smile "politely."

The two, of course, took advantage of it. If it meant being able to get away with their noise by just simply smirking at the teacher in front of them, they'd do it. They already did anyways. They never did anything more than that though, and for some reason you were thankful that they never crossed that line.

You jolted up slightly when the bell suddenly rang, a loud yelp slipping past your lips out of shock. With your eyes widening like saucers, you felt your cheeks heating up when majority of your classmates turned their head towards your direction, some having a grin on their faces while the others having a look of displease.

However, their stare didn't matter as much as a specific person's did. A pair of brownish eyes stared at you intensely, his gaze so intense it was enough to make you almost squirm in your seat.

Feeling your heart rate picking up along with the shiver running down your spine, you looked down at your lap, successfully cutting your eye contact with Miya Atsumu - the guy you secretly liked despite being hailed as your school's certified f!ckboy.

"Make sure to finish all your requirements this upcoming weekend. You're all seniors so I have high expectations on your outputs, understood?"

With a series of "Yes, ma'am," the class was dismissed.

The room was filled with different noises - subgroups gossiping with each other, the footsteps of students hurrying their way out, the rustling of papers, clanking of chairs and the voices of the class representatives reminding the assigned people to clean properly.

It was lively, for them at least.

As for you, you preferred being alone. No, you weren't some weird nerd kid who acted as if they hated the world. Instead, you preferred categorizing yourself as one of those people who were naturally shy and introverted.

You don't really like crowds nor socializing. You've always opted on sitting by the corner, just enjoying the calmness silence brings you.

Grabbing your books from your desk, you stood up and made your way to the door, head casted a little downwards to avoid making eye contact with people, knowing that doing so will result to interactions, and who has time for interactions anyway? Certainly not you.

With the lack of paying attention, you failed to notice someone who was rushing their way out. Like a cliche movie, your body collided with them, the impact causing you to stumble backwards, loosening your grip on your books as they fell on the floor.

Luckily, the person behind you managed to catch you on time, their hand gripping the small of your back to keep your bum from meeting the floor.

"Whoa, there. Ya alright, princess?" spoke the familiar voice just behind your ear, his breath against your skin giving you small goosebumps.

Instantly, you jerked away. Turning around to face him, you bowed down while muttering continuous apologies. "Miya! I didn't mean to bump into you, I.. I swear. I was just walking out and then somebody j-"

Chuckling, Atsumu placed a hand on top of your head, giving your hair a small ruffle which eventually made you look up at him. "Calm down, I ain't mad at ya. No need to be so flustered."

With a stiff nod, you mumbled a small "Okay," before bending down to pick your books off the floor. You didn't fail to notice how your hands were trembling and you silently prayed to whoever diety was watching over you that Atsumu won't notice it.

"Yer y/n, right?" Atsumu asked as he bent down as well, one hand clutching your book as he let his finger trace over the name written on it. "A pretty name fer a pretty face like yers."

You wouldn't be surprised if he'd ask if you were doing okay because by now, you were a hundred percent sure that your face must be looking like a red tomato. "Thanks I guess," you said, giving him a shy smile before taking the book from his hand.

The small encounter was cut off by someone calling for Atsumu's name. Turning your head to the direction of the noise, you noticed Osamu walking towards you with a small frown on his face, one hand gripping the strap of his bag as he went on how they're going to have to run extra laps again if they ever got late for practice.

Atsumu only chuckled at Osamu before turning his focus back on you. With a cheeky smile, he booped the tip of your noise fondly. "Guess I'll see ya around, pretty thing. Careful not to stumble again, alright? Don't want another man catchin' ya."

With that, Atsumu went on his merry way, turning around one more time to send you a wink, chuckling as you gave him a slow wave before his figure disappeared from your vision as a mere dot.

"See ya later..." you whispered on thin air, lips unconsciously curling up as you stared at the direction he went off to. Once you snapped out of your daze, you bit your lip to stop yourself from squealing like a school girl in love.

Well, technically, you were a school girl in love, right?

That night, as you laid on your bed staring at your ceiling full of glow in the dark stars, you thought that maybe it wasn't so bad making conversations with people every once in a while.

-

The days went by pretty quickly.

At first, you thought that everything will be back to normal. After all, you never tried associating yourself with people. Your high school life was basically nothing but waking up early for school then going back home after class and then repeat.

However, something was strange. In fact, it was very strange. Not only were people trying to befriend you but the one and only Atsumu Miya was actually making an effort to talk to you, and to say that you were confused would be an understatement.

He basically didn't pay attention nor spared you a glance before, until that day you bumped into him.

You knew that it wasn't a good practice to judge someone based on what other people say but he wouldn't be called as your school's f!ckboy for nothing. He'd change his girlfriend almost every week as if he's only changing clothes, cruelly dump those who did not meet his certain standards and doesn't care even if a girl cries infront of him. Those are exactly why you tried not associating yourself with him nor his twin.

But there was something about Atsumu Miya that kept on drawing you in. You didn't know if it was his annoying piss colored hair, intense gaze, or the aura surrounding him. You couldn't help but wonder how someone like him, the exact type of person you swore you hated, managed to keep you attracted like a moth on to a flame.

It was weird.

And yet you loved it.

"Ya know y/n, ya kinda wound me," Atsumu said, plopping himself down beside you on the cafeteria.

With your hand clutching the chopsticks mid-air, you surveyed your area, noting how some heads, specifically the Inrizaki VBC's, turned to your direction. "Sorry, what do you mean?" you muttered as soon as your eyes met Atsumu's.

"I literally thought we're already friends when I saved yer ass from falling backwards," Atsumu answered before stuffing his mouth with an Onigiri, no doubt made by Osamu.

Placing your chopsticks down, you wiped your lips with some napkin before speaking up. "I'm sorry for asking this but... what's with the sudden interest, Miya?"

You were aware of how snappy you sounded, but in reality, it was your own defense mechanism acting up. Just how were you supposed to ignore him when it's he himself who kept on clinging to you?

"Hm, what do ya mean? Is it so hard to believe that I'm trying to befriend ya?" Atsumu tilted his head a bit to the side, his lips curling up into a smirk. "Why not try givin' me a chance, princess? That isn't so much to ask for."

You organized your now empty bento, placing it on the side before focusing your whole attention to the man in front of you. "I've seen how you treated girls before," you said with a low voice, averting your gaze from him to avoid melting into a puddle.

Damn stupid feelings.

"I see..." Atsumu said with a slow nod. "Then I guess that makes it more of a challenge."

Your eyebrows immediately furrowed upon hearing that, your curiosity spiking up at what his words meant. "Challenge? What do you mean?"

Instead of answering you, Atsumu just stood up, his bento in hand with the side of his lips curled up. "I'll see ya around, princess."

With that, you were left alone in your table, eyes still trained on Atsumu as he made his way back to the Inarizaki VBC's table. You watched as most of his friends chuckled while patting his back, some even sending a glance towards your direction.

Deciding that pondering over it would only be a waste of time, you stood up and made your way back to your classroom, failing to notice a grey haired Miya watching you.

-

You let out a small squeak as someone behind you reached for the same book you've been trying to get for almost 5 minutes now. Tilting your head back a little, you were met with an upside down vision of Miya Atsumu's face.

With your arms still raised in the air, you spun around to face him, your back flush against the bookshelf keeping you basically trapped. "Miya," you mumbled while looking up at him, one hand fisting the side of your skirt to release some pressure.

"Here," he simply said while handing you the book, obviously holding back from laughing at your flustered expression. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna try anythin' that would make ya uncomfortable. I was just passin' by and saw you strugglin'."

"And he even tucked my hair behind my ear!"

"He did that?" your cousin spoke from beside you.

Both of you were seated on top of your bed, legs crissed crossed as you gossiped about your interactions with Miya Atsumu.

For the past few weeks, you've been having encounters with Atsumu - in the cafeteria, in the library and even outside of school where he claimed that he was out to buy some ingredients for Osamu and only managed to bump into you "coincidentally". Name it and he'll be there.

With these constant encounters stirring up your feelings, you had to resort on calling your cousin for some girl time in order to save your sanity. Luckily, your parents had no objection. They were even happy that you were actually trying to open up to other people. It was only your cousin but according to your parents, "A small step is still a step."

Plopping your back on your bed, you grunted as you placed both of your hands on your cheeks. "Mhm. I just don't get it you know? He's basically this popular guy that plays volleyball, has a group of girls swarming over him and has the face and body that looks like it's been sculpted by God himself, and yet he's wasting his time on me."

You looked at your cousin with a small pout, one hand reaching out to poke her thigh. "Am I just overthinking things?"

With a breathy chuckle, your cousin laid down beside you. "Maybe? I can't really say for sure since I don't know this Miya guy except your description of him, but what I think is that you should give him a chance."

Hearing that, you laid on your side to face her, elbows propped up against the mattress as you rested your cheek on your palm. "Aila, have you been listening to me? He is a f! ckboy. Dangerous, treats girls like shit, and undeniably sexy. What if his sudden interest is only a one time thing? What if he's just messing with me?"

"And what if he isn't?" Upon hearing no reply, your cousin took your silence as her cue to continue. "What if people just labeled him as this so called 'f!ckboy' because that's what they perceive him to be? What if inside him is just someone who's vulnerable, trying to protect themselves from getting hurt by people so they end up hurting others first to save themselves from the pain? What if he's just waiting for someone who wanted to really know him, the real him? Would you really deprive him of that opportunity just because of what you hear from other people?"

"I... I don't know.."

"Miya isn't here to defend himself and I'm not trying to defend him, but don't you think you should at least give him the benefit of the doubt?" Aila smiled as she settled herself on a comfortable position. "Give him a chance, y/n. Everyone deserves to get one. It's up to him to prove whether he's worth the chance he was given."

You sighed deeply, letting her words sink in as you also shifted yourself on a comfortable position, raising your comforter up until it reaches just below your chin. "Then what happens if he isn't worth the chance he's given?"

With a hum, your cousin just shrugged. "Then you either forgive him and let it go or... give him the finger and tell him 'f!ck you' for messing with your feelings," she said with a short giggle.

"It's something only you in the future can decide. Goodnight, y/n."

With a thankful smile, you turned the lamp off as you whispered, "Mh, goodnight, Aila."

-

"Let's be friends," you said as you slammed a box of onigiri in front of Atsumu, a smacking sound resonating in the air making the rest of the boys look at your direction.

Even the sound of balls whooshing in the air stopped, replaced by the sound of them dropping suddenly on the gym's floor.

With his lips parted, Atsumu shifted his gaze from the onigiri, Osamu, Suna and you. "Ah..." he muttered as if he was just as shocked as you for having the guts to come inside the gym in the middle of their training.

Feeling your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment due to his lack of response, you looked down and started to fiddle with you fingers. "You said you wanted to be my friend and I kept on keeping my distance from you so I thought you might appreciate those onigiri as my peace offering." You scratched the back of your head before giving him an awkward smile. "A-anyway, that's all! I'll see you around, Miya!"

Atsumi could only watch you as you dashed out of the gym. Snapping out of his daze, he looked down at the box of Onigiri, smiling unconsciously as he noticed the sticky note posted on top with "Good luck on your practice, Miya! :))" written on it.

"Interestin'," Atsumu whispered before standing up, Kita's voice filling the air as he called the team back for practice.

-

It's safe to say that after that embarrassing moment, you became friends with Atsumu. You even became close with his twin because they were always with each other. It wasn't long then when the usual duo became three - Atsumu, Osamu, and you.

It was hard to adjust at first. Your female classmates would always glare at you and spout out some nasty remarks but the twins were always there to defend you. In fact, you even met the whole team and hanged out with them when you didn't have some academic tasks to finish.

It was fun, and you were thankful for your cousin who gave you the advise of giving Atsumu a chance.

But there was a downside on the situation.

Your feelings which you kept hidden for a long time was only growing day by day, and you were afraid that it was slowly showing signs.

How?

Everytime Atsumu was near, your heart would beat so fast that you felt like you just finished a 4 kilometer run. Your hands would become clammy, breath would hitch, and face would heat up whenever he teases you, and don't even forget to add that one time you literally froze when you spun around, only to come face to face with him - nose almost touching, lips ghosting against each other with only an inch keeping you apart.

You were playing a dangerous game and yet you had no intention of stopping, not knowing that it wasn't only you who had a secret.

Because Atsumu Miya was also playing a game - something much more dangerous than yours.

-

"Where's 'Tsumu?" you asked as you peeked your head inside the gym.

Kita, who was about to walk out, gave you a smile before opening the door wider for you to come in. "Atsumu's in the storage room. The twins made a mess again so I told them to go clean up before we start practice."

"Typical," you said with a short giggle. "Anyway, I'm just going to drop off Atsumu's hoodie that I borrowed last week. I'll watch over them while you do your business."

"That would be great. Thank you so much, y/n-san. Call me if something happens," Kita said, giving you a small nod before leaving.

As you entered the empty gym, you grimaced upon seeing something that looks like spilled milk on the floor. With a shake of your head, you made your way near the storage room sneakily in attempts of scaring Atsumu.

However, as you got closer, you heard two familiar voices. It was Atsumu's and Osamu's voice, and basing from the way they were speaking, it seemed as if they were in the middle of an argument.

"The fuck did ya say?" It was Osamu.

"I said I was only playin' with her. I mean, she's so easy, don't ya think? It basically only took me a couple of weeks and she came runnin' to me with that box of Onigiri, claimin' she wanted to be friends," Atsumu said, followed by a chuckle. "As if I didn't notice the way she acted around me. I'm telling ya, that girl is in love with me."

"And so, what if she is? That's not an excuse for ya to play with her feelings, dipshit."

Hearing Atsumu huff, you slightly backed away from the door, only to freeze when you heard his next words.

"Y/n is nothin' but a toy to me, somethin' I can dispose of when I got bored."

Biting your lower lip, you clenched the handle of the paperbag you were holding before running out with tears streaming down your face.

You ran as fast as you could, ignoring the worried looks you're getting from the people you were passing by. Even Kita was shocked to see you yet he didn't bother calling out, thinking that you might be needing some alone time for yourself.

You skipped class.

Throughout your whole Highschool life, this was the first time you skipped your class and it was a bummer that the reason was Atsumu Miya.

Stirring your strawberry milkshake from a nearby cafe, you thought about Atsumu's words, another batch of tears streaming down your face as you realized how pathetic you were for believing that he isn't what others say.

Maybe your cousin was wrong.

Atsumu Miya wasn't worth the chance he was given, because he only proved that once a f!ckboy, always a f!ckboy.

-

You blocked Atsumu's social media accounts.

In fact, you even blocked and deleted his number to stop getting in contact with him.

Even in person, you didn't bother paying him any attention unlike before. You stopped coming to their practices, stopped giving him food and stopped talking to him.

You basically acted as if he didn't exist.

It was hard because you knew that your heart belonged to him, but you had to endure it. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction for playing with you. You know your worth and there's no way you're going to let some f*ckboy ruin you.

"Y/n, would ya stop?!" Atsumu said as he grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping you from walking away from him any further.

"Get your hands off me, Miya. I don't wanna talk to you." You struggled against his hold, trying to take your hand back, only to fail when he tightened his grip.

"The hell's yer problem? What's with the sudden attitude? Yer basically ignorin' me and I don't have any idea what I did. Just tell me what I did wrong instead of actin' like a little brat." Letting go of your wrist, Atsumu groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. "I.. I don't like this."

You laughed, eyes squinting as you let out a fit of giggles before pointing at him. "You don't like this? Why not, Miya? I'm just a toy for you, right? So, I don't really get why you don't like this. Is it because you're not bored of me yet so you're not willing to dispose of me?" Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a serious expression. "Well, I'm sorry to say this but I'm not going to let you hurt me like the others. I'm not a plaything nor am I desperate like those girls pining over you. Have fun looking for a new toy. You're not worth playing with anyway."

That being said, you turned your back on Atsumu, ignoring the whispers that suddenly filled the hallway as the students parted some space for you, leaving Atsumu with his lips parted and feet frozen on the ground.

Serves you right, Miya.

-

Atsumu felt hollow.

With every passing day that you're ignoring him, conversing with people whom you never bothered associating yourself with before, the more he regret taking advantage of your feelings.

It was only supposed to be a game, nothing but a pass time and yet why did it felt like something was missing?

"I wasn't supposed to care," Atsumu said desperately while clutching his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table as he opened up to his twin. "F!ck...I think I like her, 'Samu."

"No shit, idiot," Osamu answered without taking his eyes off the stove. "I told ya several times to stop messin' with people's feelings and did ya ever listen? No. That's what ya get for bein' stupid."

Groaning, Atsumu rested his cheek against the table, facing Osamu's back. "Help me."

Slowing down from stirring the pot, Osamu looked at Atsumu through his shoulder. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, I'm yer twin. Aren't ya supposed to help me? Plus... y/n acts fine around ya." Atsumu sighed before sitting up properly. "I won't bother ya fer a week if ya help me out. I already did everythin' I could. Flowers, chocolates, even payin' attention in class just to impress them! Nothin' worked."

Osamu chuckled at the desperation and frustration in Atsumu's voice. "Deal." He turned the stove off, covering the pot before making his way to Atsumu. Sitting down, he crossed his arms over his chest while staring at the brokenhearted Miya. "Y/n is actually kind. Well, not until that moment she found out about yer stupidity. Have ya tried showin' her that yer willin' to change?"

Atsumu nodded. "I did. I even gave her the usual things girls like."

"I asked if ya showed her that yer willin' to change, not tried winnin' over her through bribery." When Atsumu didn't respond, Osamu let out a 'tsk' before continuing, "Just stop botherin' her and prove that ya regret what ya did."

"Easier said than done," Atsumu grumbled which earned him a smack on the head.

"Will ya stop bein' a sad boy already? I have a plan."

-

Its been two weeks.

Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu trying to apologize. Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu following you like a lost puppy while holding either chocolates or flowers.

Instead, what you were getting were these random post it notes on your locker, your desk, everywhere. Wherever you go, there would be random post it notes with various messages. Some contained cheesy quotations, the others short apology letters.

And despite how mad you were at Atsumu, you wouldn't be able to deny how cute the act was. Not only did he gave you space but also exerted an effort of silently letting you know that he'd be willing to wait for you.

You noticed how he stopped acting like a boss in class, opting to jot down notes instead of chattering with Osamu like usual. You also noticed how he stopped having a random girl beside him during breaks. Everytime you would pass by, no longer would he try to block your way and flick your forehead, but instead give you a hopeful smile before proceeding on his way wordlessly.

But what made you realize that he indeed regret what he did was that one time.

You were walking back to your classroom after forgetting your umbrella. The sound of the heavy rain tapping on the ground resonated on the empty hallways, the cold wind making you shiver as it whooshed in the air.

Wrapping your arms tightly around you, you entered your classroom, eyes widening as you saw Atsumu trying to fit something on the space below your desk while mumbling something.

Clearing your throat, you noticed Atsumu jolting up slightly before turning around to face your direction.

He smiled sheepily before scratching his nape. "I know it's yer birthday tomorrow so I was tryin' to fit this here. I guess there's no point hidin' it already since ya caught me anyway." Sighing, Atsumu picked up the fox stuffie and handed it to you. "Happy Birthday, y/n. I know yer still mad at me and ya probably hate me but I still wanted to give ya a present."

You stared at the fox in your hand, your fingers poking the fluffiness of the material as you fought back the urge to smile. "Thanks," you answered with a dismissive tone.

For a split second, it was silent, and you were aware of the intensity of Atsumu's gaze burning on your forehead, yet you refused to look up, knowing that once you did, you won't be able to hold yourself back and might just forgive him there and then.

"I like ya, I really do. I know I messed up big time fer taking advantage of ya and I'm sorry fer that. It was stupid and childish of me to think that the people around me are nothing but mere toys fer me to play with. I regret hurtin' yer feelings and I'll be willin' to wait until ya forgive me. Just know that I won't stop until ya do."

Hearing something rustling, you looked up and noticed Atsumu taking off his jacket. Within a few steps, he was already infront of you, draping his jacket over your figure. "I'll see ya around, princess. Don't get sick, alright?" Smiling, Atsumu gave your cheek a small pinch before heading out.

You were left in the empty classroom with nothing but the fox stuffie serving as your company. Atsumu's scent was swirling around you from the jacket you were given and at that moment, you haven't notice the single tear sliding down your cheek.

Because of all people, you never expected for Atsumu Miya to be the first one to greet you without having to remind them.

He was the first person you knew outside of your household to ever remember your birthday.

You hugged the stuffie close to your chest, burrying your face on top of its head as you let the comfort it brings envelope you.

-

You stared at the empty space infront, your head swirling as you thought of the possible reasons why Atsumu haven't been in class for three days now.

It's currently your last subject and throughout the whole day, you've been doing nothing but wonder where he was. You haven't asked Osamu about it yet since he was excused from the class due to the preparations for the upcoming match.

And so, the moment your class was dismissed, you rushed your way out, making your trip to the gym. You were thankful that they were in the middle of a water break so you had the chance to call out Osamu's name without having to worry about Kita.

"Y/n?" Osamu's eyebrow shot up upon seeing you. Suddenly, a knowing smile made its way to his lips. Standing up, he walked over to you. "He's sick," he said without even waiting for you to say something.

"Oh.." you muttered, shifting from one foot to another nervously before tugging at the hem of Osamu's jersey. "Do you... uhm, do you think it would be alright if I visit him after your practice? I wanna see if he's doin' alright."

"Alright. I think 'Tsumu would appreciate that. Why don't ya sit on the bench and wait a little for us to finish practice then ya can visit our house after?"

Upon hearing that, your face instantly lit up. You smiled at Osamu as you nodded.

Osamu only chuckled at you and fondly ruffled your hair, a habit he and Atsumu shared.

You waited patiently, and it wasn't long then when their practice finally finished. After Osamu took a shower, you both went on your way to their residence.

As you entered their house, Atsumu's voice immediately met your ears.

"'Samu! Cook me somethin', I'm starvin!"

You looked at Osamu who only shrugged as if he was already used to it. You took your shoes off and wore the slippers you were given before placing your bag on the couch.

"Our room is on the right. Go ahead and talk to him." Osamu said as he pointed on the door at the end of the hallway.

With a nod, you slowly made your way to their room, knocking softly before sliding your way in.

The first thing that greeted you were the mess of opened junk foods on the floor. Roaming your eyes around, you grimaced at the sight of empty water bottles littered around along with the volleyball laying on the ground.

Averting your eyes away from the trash, you looked at Atsumu whose back was facing you, his shoulder raising up and down evenly, indicating that he must be asleep.

Carefully, you walked claser and sat on the edge of his bed, your hand immediately feeling his forehead. "You're burning up," you mumbled, brushing his hair away from his face.

Suddenly, Atsumu's hand gripped your wrist, his eyebrows furrowed as he squinted his eyes. "Am I dreamin' or are ya a ghost?" he asked with a raspy voice.

"I'm not a ghost, 'Tsumu. I'm really here."

You watched as Atsumu slowly nodded before letting go of your wrist. "What're ya doin' here? I thought ya were still mad at me." Sitting up, Atsumu held the comforter close to him as he shivered.

"I heard you were sick. I'm no longer mad at you. I guess I'm still upset but I just can't hold a grudge against you forever, can I? That's not something I can do," you said with a shake of your head. "I really like you, you know? Despite your title of being a f!ckboy, I still fell for you. You were the first person I tried opening up to aside from my cousin. It's just a bummer that you ended up taking advantage of that vulnerability."

You felt Atsumu reaching out for you, his hand enveloping yours as he gave it a small squeeze. "I know, and I'm sorry. I really am."

"And if I give you another chance, will you prove me that you deserve it?" you asked as you looked at him, "I'm still hurt about what happened so I hope that if I give you this chance, you won't waste it."

"Yes. God, yes," Atsumu answered breathlessly, "I promise it won't happen again and I'll try to be better."

Suddenly, Atsumu wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you on his lap as he settled his head on the side of your neck. "Thank you," he mumbled repeatedly against your skin, his arms tightening around you as if he was afraid of letting go.

And he never did.

Indeed, there was something about Miya Atsumu that kept drawing you in, and despite the bumps and dangers that came along your way, you didn't withraw.

Because as you closed the last page of your photo album eight years from then, you realized how right your cousin was alll along.

Atsumu Miya was worth the chance he was given, and he proved it to you every single day, sealing it with the diamond ring now resting on your left hand.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

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[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Anklets and Necklaces

Inspired by this tweet.

@5-secondsofcolor I’m not sorry.

Female Reader insert. NSFW Content (18+). My smut writing is hella rusty. So I do apologize, whoops.

_______________

Calum plays at the anklet, spinning it around and around her joint as her legs are crossed and resting in his lap. The gold jewellry is hardly ever taken off since he gave it to her. In return, she gifted him a chain with a tiny pendant with her initial etched into the back of it. The front of it is an arrowhead. He wears it so often now, that when it’s off, he feels a little incomplete. It’s an easy gesture to carry her everywhere with him.

“Okay we gotta decide what to eat for lunch like now or I’m going to get hangry,” she states.

Calum glances up from his phone, to see her still scrolling on hers. “Oh no. Not hangry,” he teases. But he knows she means it. Her warnings have about a thirty minute window, just enough for a delivery if they get something simple. Or if they want something more complicated, they need to find a snack now while the main course is cooking. “What do you want? Thai? Mexican?”

“Would you hate me if I said I really just wanted nuggets from McDonalds?”

The pout on her lips makes him laugh, “No, I could never. Usual then?”

“Yes, please.”

Stretching across the length of her, Calum pushes his lips together, trying to ask for a kiss. She laughs in return and squeezes his cheeks. “Be lucky you’re cute,” she states before lifting up slightly to meet his lips. “And squishy.”

“Ain’t nothing on me squishy,” he huffs, straightening back up to put her order into the app.

She sets her phone down on her stomach, gazing up over the sharp line of his jaw that his plump cheeks sit atop. And while it’d be easy to return with a poke and a verbal jab about his cheeks, she just watches him. His fingers deftly work over the screen. The white tank sits as a stark contrast to the depth and glow of his skin. “I think all the right things on you are squishy.”

“Yeah, what are those?”

“Your cheeks. And as much as you and your trainer kick your ass, I know happy weight when I see it.”

Calum grins, a chuckle shaking through him as he sets his phone down on the arm of the couch--the order completed on his end. He pinches at her thighs. “Take that back.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I like it--just like I like my cookies. Hard on the edges gooey in the middle.”

Standing for just a moment to let her legs fall onto the couch, Calum kneels onto the cushion, hovering above her. Her eyes glitter just a little as she talks and the soft easy smile on her face lets him know that it’s all out of love--what’s she’s saying. The pads of his fingers run along the side of her thigh. “Be lucky I love you.”

“I am already lucky, so say what you gotta say. Roast me, my love. It’s not like we don’t do that anyways.”

And truth be told, Calum had no response. Not when he looks at her, because God all he sees is the person that’s been with him on his bad mental days. She’s been there when Calum was sure there was no lower low or higher high. And what do you say to that person that’s been there, seen all of you that there is to see? With a gentle and chaste kiss, Calum settles for silence.

“Cat got your tongue now, huh?”

This--this Calum can respond too. It’s all too easy. “I know what else my tongue can have.”

“I know something your tongue can have too.”

“Really now?” Calum asks, dragging his fingers over the top of her thigh and tracing the line of her lounge shorts. “Food will be here in fifteen minutes though. So that’s up to you.”

“Not nearly enough time to savor it. Besides,” she starts and takes a pause. Her lips pull into a side smile and Calum knows what that means. One brow quirks in anticipation and Calum watches her. The silence settles for a little too long.

“Besides what?” he prompts again.

“Besides, I need the mail to be delivered first.”

“What did you buy?”

“You’ll see later. I promise. It’s really not even supposed to be used for lingerie. But I’ve wanted these for a long time and I specifically have a set I’m trying to complete.”

There’s the black mesh set that she’s slowly been building out. The main piece came in weeks ago, at this point it might even be months ago that that came in. He was privy to it then and gave it the christening that it deserved. But there wasn’t any other lingerie set that needed expansion. Not at least to his recalling. “Which one is it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Oh please,” he whines, dropping his head into her neck. His lips softly and slowly seal kisses into her warm skin.

“No, Calum. I’ve been waiting on this package for weeks. It got held up in customs and I-” she sighs at his lips sucking at her skin. Not hard enough to cause a bruise, but just enough to make her spine tingle. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Calum pushes up, with a huff, sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch. “This is killing me, you know?”

“Well, you ain’t dead yet. So I think you can tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Begrudgingly--I want you to know that.”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor. “Your sacrifice will be duly noted. The mail will be here before you know it.” The couch releases her weight and Calum watches her pad into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” she calls.

“I’m good,” he returns, knowing that he will be counting down the seconds until the mail comes. She returns with a glass of water, sitting back down on the couch, but bringing her feet up underneath her as she motions to the TV. “You watching that?”

Calum answers with a shrug. He wasn’t anymore. He originally turned it on mostly for the weather and some news. He found himself bored and flipping through channels before settling on the sports channel while he took care of Duke in the morning. Noise to fill the space since his brain needed the distraction. He hadn’t slept all that great the last few nights, decent sleep. The closer and closer the band got to putting out music the more his nerves kicked in--sometimes they were sneaky. The nerves come up faster than Calum had anticipated. And right now, they won the first round. But Calum was working hard to combat them so he could get about his daily life.

“Go crazy,” he finally verbally responds. And she picks up the remote, changing channels too fast for Calum to even understand how you could process what was on before decking it was a no. She eventually settles for HGTV--not quite caring what show was on. 

The first knock that comes to the door is the food that Calum ordered for the two of them. He answers it, popping up in the hopes it’s the mail. When it’s not, he sighs just a little but places the bag down onto the coffee table. “Your nugs, my queen,” he teases.

“Thank you, my good sir,” she returns with a grin, opening before divvying out what is for who. “You wouldn’t have happened to shot up like a bat outta hell because you wanted that to be the mail?”

Calum feels the heat in his cheeks, but bumps her shoulder gently. “No, why would I ever want that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she scoffs in return, dunking a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. They share a soft bout of laughter before turning their gaze back to the TV. Duke’s paws click as he ventures into the kitchen for a drink of water from his bowl. The lapping and splash of his tongue echoing just slightly as the screen goes dark between the show and the commercial break.

Calum lifts his gaze, taking in the soft angle of her jaw. She curls up around the carton of fries, eyes glued to the screen. Does she even have the slightest clue what she does to him? It’s not even the involved things like dressing up for him, or comforting him. It’s just her, when she’s munching on fries. Or when she sleepily walks behind Duke in the mornings. It’s when she hums as she cooks. It’s the dancing she does when she’s cleaning. It’s the pouts when she messes up on something and her brow furrows in as the determination settles onto her face.

It’s when she fucked up a birthday cake for him once--not greasing the sides of the pan enough and then adding a tad too much milk--called him crying about it and then in a minute flat resolved to make him brownies instead. Because she said she’d be damned if she didn’t make him something sweet to nibble on or pass along to the guys. And Calum’s not even that much of a sweets guy, which she knew, so she only settled on giving him half the batch she made. She, of course, saved the other half for her and her friends.

And it’s just the moments that she’s not even trying that makes Calum melt. Like when she paints her nails, she offers to do his first. Or when she lays down next to Duke, and in their shared silence, they seem to communicate everything with each other.

“I love you,” he states.

She turns, eyes widening for a second before grinning around her sip of iced tea. “I love you.” Her brows furrow just a little. “You okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you didn’t want McDonalds, I could’ve done something else. Literally anything else,” she continues on almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not the food,” he giggles. Calum reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I just love you, that’s all. Wanted to share it with you.”

Her grin is soft as it lifts her lips. “Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of getting rid of you.”

Another silence envelopes them. Calum finishes his food and takes the empty containers to the trash. Another episode starts up from the speakers and just above it, he hears the chime of his phone. “Do you want me to screen it for you?”

“Yes please!” If it’s one of the guys, they won’t mind her answering. If it’s someone important, he doesn’t want to miss the call.

“Calum’s phone,” she answers but he can already hear her feet shuffling to him in the kitchen. “Okay, Ash. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes closer and Calum shakes his hands just a little to get rid of the excess water before drying them. “No, I can’t say what it is without taking a look. Did you use the soil I recommended last time?” Another pause comes from her and when Calum turns, he finds her leaning up the kitchen counter, phone halfway pulled down but not fully away from her ear. “Yeah, I definitely think you should consider changing soils. But I can take a better look tomorrow for you. I’m going to pass along the phone now.”

She hands the phone over. “He said it was important.”

“Thank you,” Calum says in a whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Ash?”

Calum’s not even sure how long the conversation goes on. At first, it is important information that Ashton’s trying to confirm--a date and time for a meeting that they had later in the week. He says he wrote it down where he writes down all their meetings but it’s not there. And Ashton’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t miss it. So Calum shuffles to his office and verifies in his calendar the time for the meeting.

But then the conversation diverges--they start talking about everything and anything. So much so, they’re laughing. Calum doesn’t even hear the knock at the front door. But he does notice her scurrying off into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click. Duke comes trailing after her but notices the closer door and then keeps down the hall to the office. Calum reclines back in his seat trying to get another angle at the door. But it’s closed fully.

“You okay, gramps?” Calum asks Duke.

“Oh fuck off, mate!” Ashton laughs.

“Not you, you fucking egg. Duke--I was talking to Duke.”

“Oh!” Ashton giggles. “Sorry, I thought you was trying to talk shit.”

“I don’t have to try and do that to you.”

“Oi, don’t start something bro.” The two of them laugh and Calum bends down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “Alright, thanks for confirming that meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow in the studio?”

“Yeah--bright and early. Talk to you later.” The call ends and when Calum spins around in his desk chair, his jaw drops as she steps out from the bedroom. It’s not exactly something new--as in something that she’s never worn before. But it doesn’t mean he ever gets tired of seeing her like this.

The white bustier pushes her breasts up and almost over the cups. And he travels the look down, taking in the baby blue skirt, fishnet knee highs. And he goes back up, taking in a black strap wrapping around her thighs. She notes the lustful gaze and steps right on the line of the threshold to the door.

“So,” Calum starts, trailing his gaze down and then back up to her face. “Not the black lingerie I was anticipating.”

“No, I’m waiting for the heels I want for that lingerie to go on sale. Besides, you didn’t like the collar I liked so I’m still searching.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. It’s just too similar to one we already bought.”

“You’re right, but still.”

Calum cracks a smile at the reluctant confession. “But enough about that. This--this is a cute outfit.”

She nods, smoothing out the pleated mini skirt. “It’s less about the outfit and more about these,” she says, tapping at the thin black band.

“And those are?” Calum asks. It’s one step closer into the room and Calum think he can make out a heart shaped metal loop in the middle of it. She takes a second step closer and Calum can see clearly it’s some sort of thigh garter--leather or something related as the material. “Oh,” he breathes.

She continues slowly to approach Calum and when she’s just in arms reach, she lifts the skirt up. It goes up inch by inch and Calum’s entranced. Watching more of her thighs revealed to him. And soon it’s black panties--mesh and if Calum remembers correctly crotchless. But wrapped around her waist is another band of leather. Two pieces hook to another metal hoop right on her hip bones and then one trip connects the top piece to the bottom.

“A harness garter belt--what do you think?” she asks in a whisper.

Calum exhales, desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her into him. He kisses in the spaces between the leather, gingerly, lips hardly touching her skin. “I think you look beautiful,” he hums, dropping his head on his neck to look up at her.

Her eyes are still closed and Calum softly runs the tips of his fingers up her thigh, tracing the lines of the harness. With a deep exhale, she finally blinks back to reality. “Not too silly?”

His brows meet in the middle of his face. Why would she think it’s too silly? There’s nothing silly about her standing in front of him, clearly excited about her own purchase. “Angel--I’ll be damned if I ever think this is silly.”

Swinging her leg over and settling onto his lap, she grins. “Thank you, love.”

Calum holds onto her hips, rubbing his palms down to her ass. “So you said this technically isn’t lingerie?”

“No--I don’t think so. But I think they could be--a small accessory to something I already have.”

They share a kiss, much too quick for Calum’s liking so he pulls her back in for more. And her arms wind around his neck as he continues to palm her ass. Here, he doesn’t really care what it is technically or not. She looks absolutely amazing. “I like it. In fact,” Calum starts, moving to grip her thighs before housing them both up and then plopping her down on the desk. “I really like them.”

Calum stands between her legs, nose brushing and bumping against hers. Here, she can feel her core aching as Calum’s fingers trail closer and closer to her heat. It’s feather light--his touch, but it makes her feel electric all the same. “Cal,” she hums.

“Yes baby?”

There’s nothing that comes out of her mouth but a small huff, a rushed and harsh exhale at the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin. He grins pulling back just a little to see the way her face goes slack, almost as if she’s at peace with him between her legs.

“Was there something you wanted to say, darlin’?” Calum tries again, taking just a half step back away from her.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles. “I want to know,” she starts, exhaling softly to counter the thud of her heart in her chest, “if you’d so kindly want to make love to me?”

Calum can’t help his own small tuft of laughter. “Darlin’, I’d do so happily.” They don’t always wind up in bed like this--but it’s nice, to be comfortable even to be this forward with this and this open.

Calum takes her hand as she hops down from the desk. “Give me a twirl,” he asks. She obliges, turning in a circle for Calum, punctuating the back view by lifting her skirt up. “Silly girl,” Calum laughs, giving a firm but playful tap to her ass.

Facing Calum again, she wraps her arms around his torso. “But you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

They share another kiss and she slowly walks backwards out of the room. They get lost in each other--Calum in the way she fits against him and her in the way Calum holds her, palms spanning across her back and tight enough that she wonders if he thinks she’s going to disappear but gently enough at the same time that she’d love nothing more than staying here forever in his hold.

Calum finds the zipper to the top and slowly drags it down. The material exhales, slowly falling away from her body and when it falls to the floor, he kisses her neck, down to the swell of her breast. Her moans are soft, just above a hum that makes just enough noise for him to hear. And it goes right to his gut.

Here there's very little need for words. When Calum gives, she takes happily. But when she tugs at his hair, Calum knows to step back, lets her give something to him. Her kisses are soft against his skin, but make him feel like it’s being set on fire. One that he’d happily stay in, let the blaze consume every inch of him, if it meant that she was always the one to take him.

His shirt goes to join hers. Her mouth teases his nipples as she descends further down on him. Calum thinks he sighs, all he can do is just shut his eyes and let go into the feeling of her teasing the cut of his hips beneath the sweatpants. She’s always like this, teasing him. At first, it used to annoy him. But now he loves it, loves just how close she’s willing to push him to the edge, push his buttons but always delivering at the end of it.

Her meticulous work, to watch him jump at every scratch of her nails and nip of her teeth, is enjoyable. But Calum blinks open his eyes to cup her jaw, which stops her. When her gaze lifts, Calum motions for her to stand. “Yes?” she grins standing to her full height.

Calum presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“Well how dare I keep a man like you waiting?” With a slow kiss, tongues just barely dancing, Calum walks the two of them to the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of it and she buckles just a little. Calum catches her from falling. “Turn around,” he whispers into her ear, “please.”

The instruction is obeyed and she spins to face the bed. Calum finds the zipper to the powder blue skirt and almost doesn’t want to take it off her. In the end, he does-- Calum lets the skirt fall onto a pool at their feet. Without even prompting she falls to her hands, ass grinding against his hips. He traces her spine with the pads of his fingers, following all the way down, over the curve of her ass and down to the opening in the panties. His fingers gather a bit of her arousal.

“Oh,” he groans. “So wet for me,” he hums with approval.

“Always for you,” she sighs. Calum teases her clit--a featherlight touch as he dances over her core. She lets herself fall a little bit more into the mattress--another moan leaving her lips when Calum takes one finger down from her clit to teasing her entrance.

Calum pulls away, bring his wet fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. “Taste just like heaven,” he hums. He gingerly guides her back to standing and uses her hips to get her to face him again.

More kisses are shared before they fall onto the mattress. Calum takes hold of one of the straps around her thigh and tugs her down, closer to him and she laughs. It gets caught off and morphed into a moan as Calum’s tongue licks a wide stripe up her. He’s careful of the mesh material of her panties, but knows that carefulness won’t last long. Not when her arousal coats his tongue. Not when her nails scratch over the muscles of his shoulders or tangle into the curls on his head.

She melts under the work of his mouth. The mattress merely becoming the vessel to hold the mess she’s bound to make and become. The room echoes the moans and slurps. Fingers gripping at the sheet, she chants Calum’s name. His tongue working magic over her core and just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly handle anything more, she notices the stretch at the addition of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she whines, lifiting one leg and he slips in even deeper, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spot.

Calum hungers for her pleasure--the high-pitched whine and groan as she releases. Some days it’s just the sound he needs to ground him. She gives short and breathless huffs, and quivers underneath him. “Gonna be a good girl?” Calum asks, fingers still pumping at her.

“Yes, oh yes, I will.”

“Gonna cum for me?”

“I want to, yes I’ll come for you. Make me your good girl.” Her voice sounds far away, as if she’s not fully cognizant of what she’s saying. Not quite babbling, but definitely talking so fast words bump into each other and slur together.

Calum grins, sucking at her clit again and she groans, head throwing back against the pillows. Her toes are curling--her whole body growing warmer with the passing second. The heat coils in her lower gut and she’s pleading. Though, she’s not sure who she is really meaning to plead to, but she wants to cum so badly.

Then it finally happens, one moment she’s sure she’s nearly in tears and the next, the coil snaps. She squeezes, hips raising off the bed and Calum continues to ride out her orgasm, gently pressing her back down into the bed. She hisses and starts to push at his shoulders, the signal that it’s too much. So Calum places one last kiss to her clit before pulling away from her glistening core.

Beneath him, eyes fluttering close, she looks angelic. Calum holds himself up above her and just watches the way she tries to collect her breath. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the silence.

“No kidding?” she teases, winding her arms around his neck. The necklace dangles just a little in her face and she takes one hand to trace the chain. Hooking her fingers into it, she tugs Calum down to her. The taste of her arousal on Calum’s tongue makes her head spin. Calum caresses her side and stomach as the kiss deepens. Here is all they need--the soft and deep kisses, the moans that they swallow from each other.

Her hands leave from around his neck and begin to push down his sweatpants and underwear. And he lets her, even pulls back to kneel on his knees as she sits up. Their kiss hardly breaks and she’s quick to tug the cotton material down, hands wrapping around his length.

He groans at the squeeze--nothing too hard just enough pressure to make his whole body ignite. Her hand pumps him, once, then twice slowly and teasing him. “Baby,” he sighs, relishing the feeling of her hands working over him. The stay like that only for a minute or two before Calum pauses her to step down and full disrobe.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he crawls over her. “Welcome back, handsome,” she greets.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back,” he returns, grinning.

She runs her fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest, out of habit, out of something to ground her for a moment. There’s no way he’s real and it shouldn’t ever shock her like this. But sometimes it sneaks up on her and the realization of how madly in love she is with his man hits her all over again.

“What are you thinking about?” Calum asks.

“How much I love you,” she answers softly.

“I love you too,” he returns, bending down to kiss her. It’s soft and sweet--the kiss. For a moment, they just inhale the breaths of the other. It’s a tender moment, one that neither one wants to interrupt, so they let it linger, smiling at each other. She stretches up to kiss him, one hand trailing between their bodies and Calum catches the hint all too quickly when she traces along his length.

“I haven’t forgotten, love,” he exhales in a breathy laugh. “Trust me, I could never forget.” Once lined up, Calum’s slow to sink into her. One, he wants to drag this out, enjoy every inch of him that she grips of him. And two, because he wants to make sure that even in the lull that she’s ready to take him.

Her head falls back, hair pushing into the pillow and neck exposing itself to him. A tempting sight but Calum loses himself in the feeling of her wetness. He’s slow, pulling out just a bit before sinking further back into her. Her sighs and words of encouragement are soft from beneath him but they fuel him.

The pace quickens and both of them groan at the ecstasy. Out of reflex, she lifts one leg to readjust her hip flexor and Calum brings it up, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kisses over the joint and the anklet, savoring just how much of her he can feel like this.

The chain dangles in her face, brushing in the valley of her breast and she revels in the feeling of Calum reaching the full depths of her body. She digs her nails into his flesh, more curses falling from her lip. But some of them get lost in the groans that win out. “God,” she huffs. “You’re everywhere.” And though it’s a bit of strain to get the words out because Calum’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips into hers, she pushes the words out.

“You always take me so well,” he praises, watching the way her face contorts. “Oh, so soon, love? You’re going to cum again for me so fucking soon, like a good girl.”

Her whine slips out first but she nods, feeling the coil tightening yet again in her lower abdomen. Her body is hot, and she can already feel the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Please, baby, please,” she begs.

“As you wish,” he hums, his own orgasm approaching faster than he anticipated. His body humming as the warmth spreads. The bed rocks just a little, hitting the wall and the sounds echo around them as they sigh and moan to each other. But the only thing that really matters to them, is each other.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice straining as she orgasms. No noise comes from her, but her mouth opens like if she had the breath she’d definitely be screaming his name. This time the quakes last longer, her whole body shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hums, bumping his nose against her jaw, still riding through her orgasm.

“Shit, oh my god,” she shudders, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There’s a slight hiss when Calum moves again, and he kisses over her face, starting with her nose and then moving to her cheeks. Another quake takes her and Calum, not anticipating it, groans-- his orgasm now right on the edge. It won’t be much longer, but she nibbles at his earlobe. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Made me feel so fucking good. I want you to cum in me. So fucking deep,” she hums.

And while Calum’s trying to get his own rebuttal to the tip of his tongue, she squeezes around him. “Fuck,” he yelps just a little, his body erupting with his orgasm. His body shudders and he’s so blindsided by the feeling, his slips just a little, more of his weight settling onto her than usual.

She doesn’t say anything, just hums at the feeling of him succumbing to the pleasure. “Oh, that’s what I wanted,” she encourages. It leaves her throat like a purr and Calum shivers again at the sound.

They lay together, for a moment, her nails scratching lightly at the muscles in his back. Calum sinks into her, body going heavy. Her slight shift squeezes around him and he groans, sensitive. “Don’t--I can’t,” he laughs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Even her own voice sounds heavy and slurred. She kisses his temple and Calum pushes up. He’s slow to pull out, enjoying the drips that follow of his own release spilling out of her. With one finger he gently scopes it back up and into her. The familiar twinge of desire pulls at his lower gut and it’s almost enough. She even shivers, but Calum watches the way her eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sleepy now,” she returns.

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can nap.” His voice sounds farther away towards the end of the sentence and she assumes he went to the attached bathroom. The rush of water from the sink confirms it. Something wet and warm presses against her--no doubt Calum with a warm washcloth.

The clean up is swift as both of them share a shower and then under the sheets, they curl up around each other. Calum kisses the top of her head as she nuzzles in closely. “I want pancakes after our nap,” she mutters.

“I think we still have some blueberries.”

She pops up onto her elbow and grins a little. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Calum laughs. “Maybe just a little bit.”

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