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lvis44 · 1 year

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Sweet Escape Pt. 6 // LH 44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ (mentions of sexual activities), Anxiety, Jealousy, Angst, Mentions of Alcohol, Regret, Emotional Turmoil, Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Note: I felt bad leaving you all in pain, not that this will be much better but hey, we're getting there! This part is a tad shorter but I felt that this whole thing should be stand alone. The next part will be the final part of the story, but don't worry there will be an epilogue. I'm glad you have all been enjoying so far and I greatly appreciate everyone's support!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

It was nearing three in the morning when you heard your door open. The second you had arrived home you had grabbed your stuff out of Charlotte's room and moved back into your old one. You weren’t particularly in the mood to face anyone. You had spent the last few hours quietly sobbing into your knees, balled up on the bed like a child. You had seemingly run out of tears but the sorrow didn’t change. You hadn’t even heard everyone come home, somehow beating them even on foot, you assumed it was because they had to go find everyone else.

“What?” You snapped at whomever had entered your room, not even looking toward the door.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You heard Miles’ voice from the doorway, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do I seem fucking okay?” You snapped again, your filter long gone.

He let out a sigh, closing the door behind him softly as he dared to make his way over to your bed, sitting down beside you gently.

“I’m sorry Y/N, it wasn’t fair to you to cause a scene like that.” He says softly, glancing over at you to see you staring into space, your attention fixated on the blank wall to the side of the room.

You scoff, not trying to be rude but unable to control anything that comes out of you, “Well at least one of you knows how to fucking apologize. I’m still mad at you though.”

You hear him sigh again, moving closer to you so he can place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. You don’t even have the energy to flinch away from him, just letting him rest his hand there and enjoying the slightest bit of comfort.

“I know you’re pissed at Lewis, you have every right to be. Don’t kill her but Charlotte kind of filled me in when we got home. He massively fucked up.” His hand continues it’s light circling pattern, “And truth be told so did I. I don’t know why but I constantly feel like I need to protect you and hearing that asshole call you anything other than perfect made me want to kill him, he’s honestly lucky Lewis had half a brain to pull me away from him. I know you can take care of yourself but I’m always gonna look out for you, no matter what. Hence the reason I tried to deck my best friend earlier tonight.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” You whip your head towards him, that last bit of information really catching your interest.

“Yeah, when Charlotte filled me in I was still livid with the whole situation from the bar and finding out what sparked it really pissed me off. It only felt right he get at least a swift kick to the groin. Not to disappoint you but Char stopped me. I’m shocked you didn’t hear us.” He almost sounds like he wants to laugh as he tells you, like he can’t believe the whole situation himself.

“He needs a kick to the groin, taking that thing out of commission for a little while might do everyone some good.” You joke dryly, making Miles laugh next to you.

“If you need me to do it, I’m more than willing.” He offers, only kind of a joke, you feel like if you genuinely asked him to do it, he would, given the circumstances.

“I hate that I can hate him and love him all at the same time. I don’t want to lose him, but this can’t carry on this way.” You confess to Miles.

“I know Charlotte already said this to the both of you, but you guys really need to fucking talk.” He tells you seriously, before adding, “And sober.”

“I know, I know.” You groan, “I’m sorry we’ve managed to fuck up so much of vacation.”

“It’s been much more him than you sweetheart, he brought every ounce of drama himself. I could tell something was up with you over the last few days but I couldn’t really figure out what. I’m sorry it’s him.” Miles brings you in for a side hug, his arm wrapping protectively around you.

“I’m just so fucking sick of it all. I’m so tired.” You tell him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I know, understandably so.” Miles lets out a sigh, holding you in silence for a few moments. “You get some sleep and I’ll check on you in the morning, okay?” He says as he presses a kiss to your temple.

All you do is nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know you’re not all good or anything, but I’m glad you're still here. I was worried you were gonna be at the airport by the time we got home, we freaked for a second when we saw your stuff wasn’t in Charlottes anymore.” He tells you quietly, still not having let you go.

“I just didn’t want to have to face anyone, figured moving back to my old room would be the easiest way.” You just about whisper, feeling your exhaustion catch up to you.

“Well, I’m sorry to have intruded, but I needed to check on you,” Miles says, kissing your forehead one more time before easing you back toward your pillows, “get some sleep hun.”

. . .

You had no idea what time it was when you finally woke up and you have no idea how long you’ve been laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. It has to have been a good hour at this point. You can hear people moving around somewhere in the house, the last thing you want to do is go and interact. You were embarrassed, angry, hurt, and so much more you couldn’t even wrap your head around. You’ve had enough. As you’ve been laying there, more than once you’ve contemplated if you could manage to pack your stuff and sneak out of the house, fly back home without another word. You knew you couldn't and more than likely someone would come track you down the second they knew you were gone, well normally they would. You don’t know what your friends know of the situation. How much did everyone else see, how much had they been told? You knew you should get up and eat something but you had no appetite, anxiety and dread having taken over your body. You lay there going through your thoughts for more than an hour. You want to sit down and talk with Lewis, you need to, but the anxiety of the possible outcome is paralyzing you. What if he confirms your fears, admits that all he’s ever been trying to do is get it your pants? What if now that you’ve shut him down he doesn’t see a reason to keep you around anymore? The rational part of your brain knows that you're overthinking, that your friendship with Lewis still stands on semi solid ground. Maybe there will be some change to how he is around you or how often he’s with you but at the base of it all your still close friends. Lewis knows things about you that your own family doesn’t, he’s been able to read you better than you can read yourself on more than a few occasions, all of that can’t go up in smoke this quickly. Can it?

There’s a soft knock on your door, making you groan. You don’t respond hoping they’ll go away. They don’t, only knocking again and gently pushing the door open. You roll your head to the side, seeing Miles peeking his head into your room, a comforting smile on his face. True to his word, here he was to check on you.

“Good morning,” He says softly, making his way into your room once he sees you’re awake, “I brought you something to eat, you need to get something in you.”

You give him a small smile as he places a tray of fruit and a large glass of ice water on the table next to your bed.

“Thanks.” You croak out, your voice hoarse from crying all night.

“Everybodies in their rooms for the most part if you need to venture out of hiding at any point.” He tells you, knowing you’ve been avoiding everyone, but one person in particular.

You just nod, taking a small sip of the cold water. It feels amazing on your burning throat, as if it’s your first drink of water after a month in the desert.

“What time is it?” You ask, trying to get some bearing on where you are in your life, even if it's just the time of day.

He glances down at the watch on his wrist, “Just before noon.”

It’s still earlier than you thought it was at this point and it fills you with a small sense of dread, there’s so much more of the day to go about trying to avoid everyone.

“You know no ones mad at you, right?” Miles makes sure you know that there’s no hostility facing you in the house.

You just shrug, unsure of how true that actually is and also not quite wanting to admit that it’s more so that you’re embarrassed to even see your friends. There’s another soft knock on the door and you're praying it’s Charlotte, the only other person you could bare being around right now. Much to your dismay, a very tired looking Lewis pokes his head around the door that Miles had left ajar. Your breath hitches, anxiety filling your body.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I’ll um-” Lewis stutters, not wanting to interrupt your chat with Miles.

“All good man, I was just gonna head out anyway.” Miles says, standing from where he had sat on your bed.

You know Miles can sense your anxiety but he gives you a look that says “just get it over with” and heads towards the door. Before he exits he turns back toward you and says “Holler for me if you need anything, alright?”

He whispers something to Lewis as he walks out and you can see a pained expression on Lewis’ face at whatever he said. Once he’s gone, Lewis stands awkwardly in the doorway, not quite being able to look at you as he plays with his hands down in front of him.

“You can come in.” You squeak, not actually fully wanting to say it but knowing it needs to be done.

He finally looks at you, putting his hand on the door as if to close it but you can see the question in his eyes. You nod, not wanting your whole conversation to be heard by everyone in the house. He very gently pushes the door closed, making his way further into your room. He looks around, evidently unsure of what to do with himself. He opts for perching on the edge of your dresser just across from where you sit on the bed, you’re facing each other and you can feel your stomach filling with butterflies, but not the good kind you usually get when you’re around him.

“I owe you an apology, well, multiple apologies.” He finally says, looking down at the ground, ashamed. His voice is hoarse as if he’s just woken up.

You don’t say anything, unsure of what you would even say.

“I’m sorry for the way that I’ve treated you. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner. I’m sorry that my company embarrassed you in front of everyone. I’m sorry for my behavior last night, all of it. I’ve treated you in a way that if anyone else did the same to you, I would hate them.” He finally apologizes for the last few days, finally looking at you as he does so.

He looks exhausted, much older than usual with bags under his eyes and more scruff than you're used to him allowing.

“Thank you,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry I avoided talking to you too.”

He shakes his head, “It shouldn’t have been on you to fix, I’m the one that fucked up.”

You offer a small smile in his direction. All is not immediately forgiven and this conversation needs to continue, but hearing him acknowledge the reasons he needed to apologize in the first place does your heart some good at the very least.

“Why did you do it?” You ask quietly, your voice timid, not sure you truly want the answer.

He looks surprised by the question, also not quite sure how to respond. He lets out a sigh as he collects his thoughts.

“I know it doesn’t make it right,” He starts, pausing for a moment to make sure his words come across as clearly as possible, “but, it’s been on my mind for a long time. I’m well aware that I went about it all wrong, especially last night, I was incredibly out of line last night, but I’ve thought about it alot.” He cringes at his admission.

You furrow your brow, worried this is going exactly the direction you feared, hoping he will continue.

“I don’t mean for that to sound creepy, but I’ve been really attracted to you for quite a while. I should have made that clear in a much different way. I never want you to feel like I’m trying to take advantage of you in any way, it makes me sick to think that I have ever made you feel like that.” He says, a look of regret on his tired face.

“What I said last night was harsh, my drunk brain just felt like it was the best way to get my point across.” You admit to him.

“But it wasn’t really that harsh, despite it not being intentional, it’s kind of true. What I said on the other hand, that was harsh, I never should have called you a tease or said you indulged in it, it wasn’t fair.” His words are firm, for the first time he’s holding steady eye contact with you, demanding your attention so you feel the remorse in his words.

“I need to be honest, it really hurts that you’re able to treat me like all the other girls you fuck around with, I thought I was more important to you than them.” You quietly admit to him.

“Fuck, you are. So much more important to me.” He says, finally moving from where he’s been leaning on your dresser and cautiously making his way toward where you sit on your bed. He carefully sits next to you, leaving a good distance but making sure he’s near you.

“Then how can you be so okay with chatting up the bar tender, grinding on some random woman, and then still come over and try to fuck me, yet again. All because your ego couldn’t handle me dancing with someone else, when you were doing exactly the same.” You push, needing him to truly understand just how shitty his actions made you feel.

“You’re right, I was jealous. In my ideal world you would have been dancing with me all night, but I knew you wouldn’t have allowed that where we were in our relationship. And then you found that prick and the way you were with him, it just set something off in me. I wasn’t thinking. I know that sounds like a horrible excuse but there was part of me that was hoping I could make you just as jealous as I was, not that you would be when you’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and I should have respected that. Between the alcohol and my ego, I let myself treat you like shit and there’s no excuse for that, I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could.” His face is sincere, you can tell just how much he regrets last night but it doesn’t automatically let him off the hook. He continues “And as for the bartender, I wasn’t chatting her up, she’s an old friend. I’ve never slept with her and never will, she’s like family. I got distracted talking with her and by the time I found you again you had that Jason dude on your hip.”

You want to laugh, not only at him forgetting Jadens name, but also at him saying you’re not interested. He has every right to assume you’re not, you’ve done nothing but turn him down. You almost want to tell him just how wrong he is, how the only reason you said no is because you don’t want to lose him, but right now is not the time for that, you don’t want to open any windows and derail the conversation that so far is going shockingly well, even if it hurts.

“Is she the woman you went to after your fight with Talia?” You push him slightly, hoping to get more out of him while he’s being so honest with you.

His face screws up for a second, confused how you would know that. You see the questioning look on his face and rush to clarify, to confess.

“I know you lied to me that night, or at least I kind of hope you did. I overheard you and Charlotte talking the next morning, something about a woman named Marina.” You explain.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Yeah, I’m sorry I lied to you. I wasn’t particularly in the mood to explain the whole situation. But to answer your question, yes, that is the woman that I went and saw.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation, you want to push him but you allow him to leave it at that, at least for now.

You both sit in silence for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from here.

“Lewis,” You say quietly, getting his attention, “I don’t want to lose you.”

His face morphs into absolute sorrow and pain, for a moment you worry that he’s mourning your friendship, not knowing how to break the news to you.

“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I would go crazy without you.” His voice is soft but sincere as he carefully scoots closer to you on the bed, testing the waters slightly. You let him get close enough that your knees are touching, his hand coming to rest over yours, squeezing tightly.

“How do you think I could ever let you go?” He asks with a deep frown.

“Because you seemed to be okay with ruining our friendship just to get me in your bed.” You accuse him, your voice wavering.

“Sweetheart, I was never trying to ruin our friendship, I-” He takes a long pause, gathering himself with a deep breath, “I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but truth be told, me trying to get you into bed was never just me trying to sleep with you. It’s been a long time since I felt for someone how I feel for you and I’m not good at making that clear. I don’t even truly understand everything that I feel for you but, I know it’s a whole lot more and a whole lot different than how I feel about all of my other friends. I guess somewhere in my head I felt like I could get that across physically, that maybe it would make everything make sense once I had you. I know it sounds ridiculous but I don’t know how to do this.”

His confession both shocks and confuses you, your mind flitting back to the night he disappeared after his fight with Talia. That night he had told you that he had feelings for her, now he was trying to convince you of his feelings for you.

“What about Talia?” You ask, voice still unsure.

“What about Talia?” He throws back at you, confused as to why she matters right now.

“The night that we talked, after your fight, you told me you were worried that you had messed everything up with someone that you cared about or liked a lot, I don’t remember exactly what you said but…” You trail off, a slow moment of realization coming over you.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he looks down at the ground before returning his eyes to yours, “Y/N, I was talking about you. In no universe was I ever even considering Talia.” His words confirm what you’ve just realized and you want to slap yourself, you feel like an idiot.

“I- oh my god.” You breathe out, shutting your eyes. His eye contact suddenly feeling like too much.

You stand from the bed, disconnecting your hand from his. He stays seated, looking up at you as you begin to pace, letting you process what he’s said.

“How long?” You ask suddenly, stopping and looking at him.

“In all honesty, I don’t really know. I only really realized it sometime last year. I was thinking it would go away, that it was just some silly crush, but it just kept getting worse.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s totally normal.

“So all the time that you were sleeping with all these other women and still flirting with me was, what?” You feel yourself getting agitated, not quite sure how to feel about his actions.

“I kind of figured that if I kept sleeping around that I would be satisfied and I wouldn’t feel the same way, but I couldn't help but keep flirting with you, it’s just naturally how I am with you, it feels right.” Once again he shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“Do you not want to feel this way about me?” You ask quietly, a slight sting of rejection settling over you.

“No, no, that’s not it at all.” He rushes out, standing to approach you, carefully he puts his hands on your arms, making you look at him, “It’s not at all that I don’t want to feel this way about you, I’m glad I do to be completely honest. It’s just that I’ve been single for a very long time and I truly do not want to fuck this up, I’m scared that I’m going to and I’m going to lose you. It felt like everything would be so much easier if I could just keep being your friend and keep you in my life. But that didn’t happen, I still managed to fuck it up.”

You can feel tears forming in your eyes, he notices them too, a look of regret on his face.

“So what do you want?” You ask him, needing more clarity.

“All in all, I want you, I want to do this with you and god I want to not fuck it up. I want you to be mine, all mine, all in.” He says confidently, much more sure of himself than you feel.

You stare at him as the tears start to roll down your cheeks, your emotions are at an all time high. Part of you is filled with pure ecstasy, the man that you have crushed on for years is standing here in front of you confessing his feelings, asking you to be his. The other part of you is filled with absolute fear, the thought of trying and failing with him, losing one of the most amazing men you have ever met, your best friend. You know that a life with Lewis could either end in the most beautiful love you have ever experienced or the worst, most gut wrenching heartache known to man.

“Can I hug you? You look like you could use it.” His voice is soft, his heart aching as he watches you cry.

All you can do is nod as you let yourself fall into his hard chest. He holds you against him tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back as he once again lets you cry into his chest. You’ve done this too many times in the last twenty four hours. He stays silent, just letting you work through your emotions. When you finally calm down you pull your head from his chest but he keeps you tight against him, one of his hands coming up to wipe some remaining tears from your cheek. You revel in the feeling of his touch, how comforting a simple action can be. As you stare into his eyes you can see how much emotion and affection is hidden behind them. A soft, sad smile across his lips.

“What’s going through that beautiful mind?” He asks, his voice just above a whisper.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly.

He just nods, understanding how overwhelmed you must be.

“I need time, I need to think.” You say, averting your eyes from his, knowing you’ll say yes if you look into them for a moment too long.

“Take all the time you need, I’ll always be right here if you decide you’ll have me.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he gives you another proper hug.

He finally steps away from you, leaving you feeling displaced in your own room, before he turns to leave he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly, “And Y/N, no matter what you decide, you will never lose me. I will always be right here.” With that he leaves the room, leaving you behind with a whirlwind of thoughts.

As much as every part of you wants to believe him in saying he’ll never leave you, you can’t help but wonder if it’s fully true. If you try this and all of it comes crashing down, you can’t imagine being able to be around him.

Is the possibility of loving and being loved by the most incredible human being worth the possibility of losing him entirely?

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imagined-rubbermen · 17 days

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There's a lot that no one ever tells you about acclimating to becoming a rubber drone. Granted, everyone that used the Dronification Kit can't really talk about it, and most of them won't communicate just because their "master" forbids, or something. The lack of needs wasn't hard to get used to, if anything that's a lot of worries off my back. But no breathing? No talking? The lack of bodily functions felt alien. At least I could still see and hear, even if I lacked the body parts to do so. But my hearing and vision was so clear, so crisp, that it was overwhelming. The combined sensory deprivation and amplification was a lot to handle, so I did what usually helps me; I took a walk.

It was raining that night, and the rain kinda helped calm me down. I could differentiate each droplet hitting my new rubber skin, and it drowned out my anxiety. The increased sensitivity was a godsend now, and I savoured it. As I walked, my movements became more simplified, rigid, focused, yet flexible, softer, pliable. I assumed that's my flesh and bone turning into rubber now. The ideas in my mind about how to use my new body made me feel like my blood was pumping, even if I lacked such.

When I got home, I went to the bathroom to dry off. However, the rain made me so smooth, I got a little carried away. I relaxed and felt myself up right on the spot. I rubbed myself all over, my tightly defined chest, my smooth helmet like face, even my crotch. That last one was the biggest surprise, I didn't have anything down there. No shaft, no balls, no anus. There was a weird lock imprint on my bulge, but other than that, I really liked it. I knew I'd love being a featureless rubber drone.

Eventually I felt the sensation of climaxing; the rush, the release, the exhaustion, but I didn't come. After all, I didn't need human anatomy to pleasure myself. The best part? It took almost no time at all for my new rubbery, smooth, elastic body was ready for round two, and I went again, my body squeaking alone on the bathroom floor. After climaxing again, I let myself fall asleep on the bathroom floor.

It's weird now, my life that is. So many people think I have a "master" or an "owner" but instead I'm the master of my life. I'm made of rubber now, and if anyone gives me any issues, they can barely hurt me, while I show them what I can do. Now I have complete control of myself, my emotions, my body, my life. My libido is ready to fire on all cylinders whenever, and I can feel myself for hours sometimes, and can easily stop. I was like a machine, although I kinda am.

Of course, I saw an opportunity, and sometimes sell my "services" to lonely men that need that sexual satisfaction of an object. Of course they know I'm in charge, and getting into a fight with a rubber drone is not something I'd advise (although some of those guys really liked it, so what do I know?). I'll let them play with me. Some guys like to smell and lick me, like how I would play with rubber drones before I became one. Some guys would try to fuck me, although without any orifices, their shafts rubbed against me until they came. A few beat me, which I kinda liked, probably cause my rubber body would bend and twist with ease.

Mainly though I've found myself being kind of a therapist, letting men air out their emotions out. Sure, a few were still in the closet, and few were still a virgin. For those men, I went the extra mile. Of others, they'd just talk. I guess being a gay man can be isolating at times, like how almost no rubber drone I met seems to be independent. Unsurprisingly, being made of rubber meant I was comfortable to hug and cuddle, and in those moments, being a rubber drone is really worth it.

From that, my life is perfect now. The strangest thing is that I don't need clothing anymore. My body is so featureless that I don't feel naked, like my rubber skin is a suit anyways. Even when I do wear clothes I tend to mainly wear plain, oversized clothes, mostly gym stuff. However, sometimes at night I'll walk alone in the nude, just me and the night air. And when it rains like that first night I was a drone, it's so... Perfect...

It's not for everyone, maybe not even you. But if you still want to experience it, I'd suggest a gimp suit first before getting a Dronification Kit. Or if you just wanna find out what a rubber drone is like, I'm $50 hour.

#ai generated #rubbermen #gay rubber #gay gear #rubber drone #posts with a story #personal favourites

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aetherarf · 2 years

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REQUESTED BY @ladyqinn

[[ Summary: Scaramouche is a puppet, with the joints and features of one. With a false skin to make him less terrifying to commonfolk, he was able to pretend he did not. But sometimes he cannot don it, and he fears what you'll think of him. ]]

[[ Word Count: 2'110 ]]

Scaramouche was not known for being a patient man, nor a kind man, barely even a human at all.

And when things like this happened, he wanted to completely lose it.

A mission went bad, and the familiar beast of the Snezhnayan frost shredded at him- Thankfully he wasn't injured, but...

That was his own porcelain flesh, meant to be sturdy and unbreakable. But he had a second flesh- It was uncomfortable and smothering, numbing his senses, but it looked human. Perfectly human. Thus, he was not seen as such a freakish outsider.

That's what Dottore told him, anyway.

He tossed it away, knowing he wouldn't need anymore, but-

He couldn't go out until he got a new set! While he hated it, and the nights his beloved wasn't home with him, he could peel it off and relax, as sensitive as his porcelain flesh had become, without being smothered alive by his own skin.

"I don't care, you have my measurements, and it's your fault for sending me out into this frozen hellscape anyway!"

Chattering on the other end of the line, you walked into the house, shutting the door behind you. It was as cold as always, but at least somewhat sunny, and no wind stronger than a mild breeze. You took off your gloves but rubbed your hands together to lessen the numbing cold, pulling off your coat and hanging it up...

And you saw Scaramouche with his back to the door, wearing a large outdoor coat. Was he really so cold? The fireplace wasn't even lit...

Your gaze fell down to his legs, his ankles, and you saw that something was off. His skin was paler than usual- a notable feat, as he already had quite pale skin, but this wasn't just pale, it was an expansive sheet of white snow that had not been tread upon, untouched. Unmarried.

To his ankles themselves, though, while still a snowy white, there were ball joints, with the faintest hint of purple tendons holding onto it, to manipulate the joints and be manipulated.

"You're not the one without skin! If I'm not at the next meeting tell Pierro yourself!" Scaramouche shouted into the phone before hanging it up with a slam, breathing heavily in anger, turning to the side before-

He stared at you- You could see how his skin was paler, and how it was flush, likely just from cold nipping his delicate features, and the blush more distinctive from the thinner skin, his eyes wide in shock,

"You-" You could see as he hesitated, swallowing, throat bobbing- There was a line over his throat, connecting his head to his torso. Suddenly, he bunched up the coat around his neck and scampered away, "Shoo! I'm not decent! Get a hotel, I am not to be seen!" He shouted as he ran off to your shared room. You couldn't help but just stand there, stunned as you watched him run off to the hallway.

What was that?

After recovering from it, you walked back to the bedroom, grabbing the handle and seeing it was locked- But you knew just as well as him that it unlocked with little more than a coin slipped into the thin keyhole and twisted. If the door opened...

Then that was his odd way of saying I want you here. He never dare request something, in fear it would be rejected, but he gave openings. If you couldn't follow, then it was because he didn't want you to. If you could, then he wanted you to.

He wanted to be chased. He wanted to be wanted.

With a swift twist, the door creaked open, and you saw a miserable pile of bedding and a large, fluffy coat,

"I'm not to be seen!" Scaramouche shouted from underneath it, and you took a step forward.

"... What's so wrong?" You asked, "You don't look bad."

"Bad? I look like- like a freak!" He shouted in dismay, his head pounding in distress, wanting this whole anxiety to be over.

"You look odd, but not a freak." You argued, and he hesitated, panting lightly,

"You don't know what I actually look like. You won't want to know."

"I saw enough." You responded, "I'd like to see more, actually."

"You're lying!" He accused, not knowing what else to respond with.

"I'm not! I- You don't even know about my skin!"

"I heard you say something like that when I came in." You said, "A false set you wear?" You asked, putting two and two together.

"Why didn't you announce that you were home?!"

"I did."

Completely out of options, Scaramouche stayed there, hidden. It was getting uncomfortable with the lack of air and his hot breath making it muggy, but-

What could he do? Lose you because of something he couldn't control? That he-

That he was like this? That he wasn't human, scaring off people time and time again, only donning himself in a disgusting, rubbery suit that would make him look human, knowing the pain of when his joints pinched and he couldn't react, couldn't let a single microexpression free, and hope he could get to the bathroom without being seen, peel it off to fix the one small inch of pain, straining his whole body with the constant pressure that was required to make him look human?

It was too late to say it wasn't an actual thing, and he hadn't lied to you. He didn't want you to know, ever, ideally.

But it was happening.

"... Fine," He said, feeling his throat tighten uncomfortable, "Fine!" He threw the blankets off of himself, the coat, everything. He hadn't bothered to redress, his clothes were destroyed with his skin, only donning the cloak because he needed to be semi decent. He ignored it all and sat up, throwing his arms to the side, staring you dead in the eye.

"See? I lied to you, I'm a freak. Happy? I'll go get my new skin and get out of your life now-"

"Wait, Kuni."

He froze and closed his eyes.

He hated that name, but you said it in such a way that was so soft and sweet that he couldn't hate it. He couldn't keep being so upset, at least, for a brief moment.

With his eyes closed, he felt you slowly crawl onto the bed, and reach to his chest, your fingertips trailing over the center of his chest, with the long-since-removed emblem of Electro still having the faintest, leftover marks, your fingers trailing the curve of the porcelain scarring, if it could be considered such an organic thing.

While it was a light touch, his skin was horrifically sensitive from the need to be keenly aware of every inch of his body at all times, even through the muffling layer of false skin. It made him have to inhale deeply, so he didn't gasp at the tickling sensation.

"So this is what you meant," You whispered, "When you told me you were meant to be a puppet."

"Not exactly," Scaramouche snapped, before wanting to recoil into himself. Your hand trailed down his torso to his navel, and this time he gasped, and you quickly pulled away,

"Did-"

"I'm just sensitive. Try feeling things through a layer of rubber for years." He said sharply, "I-I was never finished. Not to the level... I would've been if I was still a puppet."

Your hand trailed down to his thighs, and he tensed them, and he heard you take in a slight breath of amazement. "... Your leg flexed."

"I'm not rigid and cold!" He snapped, "It's still flesh."

"But you are cold?" You asked innocently enough, and he exhaled sharply,

"I... Don't generate heat. I won't freeze or overheat how a human would, but I don't like how it feels." He explained, "Why are you examining me?" He realized, snapping himself shut, legs tightly pressed together and arms crossed over his chest, glaring at you, "I'm not some experiment, no matter what anyone says!"

"No! No," You said, "I just..."

His delicate porcelain flesh, cool to the touch but so responsive, every little bit carved to perfection, to create the most beautiful human silhouette, no cracks, no scratches, but alive, and not a cold, distant, and lofty machine.

Scaramouche's eyes widened upon the realization, and the slightest gasp as you grabbed his hand, pulling it towards yourself gently.

That look in your eyes was not contempt or anger, or disgust or confusion.

It was awe. Adoration.

Something...

Something he didn't know how to react to.

Nor did he know how to react to the soft, but overwhelming feeling of your lips on his wrist, the delicate purple tendons, and a kiss that only held affection and love. Nothing more. Unadulterated.

"You're perfect." You whispered, pressing several kisses to his skin, and he couldn't help but stare, his vision slowly but surely getting blurrier and blurrier,

"No." Scaramouche replied, "You're saying that so I won't leave you."

"You're beautiful," You insisted, the kisses reaching his elbow, setting your hands over his chest, and he couldn't help but gasp softly- it felt so nice, so... so cuddly. So warm.

When he had touched someone else, without that damned skin suit?! Every bit, as much and overwhelming as it felt, he wanted more, more more more more-

"I'm a freak."

"You're you," You answered, as though it needed no further explanation.

He needed so much, but he couldn't find any words, when he tried to come up with an argument, finding a way to string words together, he instead sighed at the soothing feeling of lips on his chest, his stomach, his thigh, knee, calf, ankle...

"Why-" He paused, "Why are you kissing me so damn much?!"

"Because you're letting me." He could feel the curve of your lips against his flesh, and he paused, dumbfounded,

"I-"

"Do you want me to stop?" You asked, and when he paused, trying to process the request, your hands slowly pulled away from him. In a fit of anger, he shot forward and grabbed your wrists,

"Stay. Don't you dare stop," He hissed, "Am I not a freak to you? Inhuman?"

"You're you. I don't care what you are as long as you're you. Besides..." Your hand trailed alongside his hip, and he shuddered from the slow, soothing movement, "You're beautiful. I thought you were beautiful before, but..." You looked down at him, seeing how flush he was, how he stared at you, eyes so wide and uncertain, "Now... divine isn't even a good enough way to describe you." You said with a smile, and he stared back at you, waiting so desperately that it made him look like a poor, hurt little kitten that wanted nothing more than to sob and cry and beg for attention.

"... I love you. This just makes me love you more."

Scaramouche couldn't hide his reaction but tried by putting his head in his hands, covering his face, as you heard him weep softly. Again, you didn't let him hide from you too long and delicately pried his hands away as you would delicately tug the flower bud's petals apart when it was so eager to bloom but just couldn't do it alone.

And you wiped away his tears, they were shockingly hot, even if his body didn't generate heat how a human's would, and you wiped them away from his cool skin, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, and he closed his eyes tight as you looked down at him so very fondly.

He grabbed your sides, before pausing, hesitating,

"I want to feel you." He declared, "Get these stupid clothes off," He said with tears still trickling down his cheeks, your efforts completely in vain...

But it was him, so you didn't mind at all.

Practically ripping your clothes off, he hugged you close before completely lying down on the bed, leaving you to toss the blankets before you, as his hands went up and down you,

"I can actually feel you," Scaramouche whispered, "I didn't think I'd get the chance."

"... Why?" You asked, letting your fingers run to his shoulder, feeling over the tendons, hearing his breath catch from the overwhelming sensation. Not painful, just a lot. It was good even.

"I had no intention of removing my skin around you." He admitted.

Because I didn't want you to leave me, went unsaid. I didn't want to give you an excuse to hate me.

But how could you hate someone, even if they were prickly with a delicate heart, when they were so receptive, they were so caring, so beautiful...

And so perfect?

#genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #scaramouche #genshin wanderer #bark writes #fluffy bark #request #ladyqinn #// personally im not super into scara looking SUPER puppety #// not bad just not my vibe personally #// i hope you enjoy tho!#// i tried to look at a bunch of artworks to get a good idea how to describe things.#// but wung it in the end

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doggernaut · 4 months

Text

Hi, hello, if you've read It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two in the past day or so and are wondering what perfect storm of frustration/depression/anxiety contributed to its creation, have at it:

April 2022: After 20 years of marathoning, I ran a marathon PR at my dream race, 10/10 would do again, top 5 life moment.

May 2022: Asthma attack during a track workout, spent the entire summer rebuilding my lung capacity.

September 2022: Bruised the ball of my right foot, lost more training time (also started grad school, this is important later).

October 2022: Foolishly ran a out-of-state marathon anyway, started experiencing Covid symptoms the day I got home (did I get Covid on the plane to Chicago or at school... based on the timing it was probably school and I likely had it while racing, but who knows).

November 2022: Three weeks out from Covid I ran another out-of-state marathon. (I KNOW but listen. These two specific races were planned years before and got deferred due to Covid cancellations. I also ran the second of the two extremely slowly. Almost an hour and a half slower than my PR.)

November 2022-December 2022: Technically no longer testing positive for Covid but still coughing constantly due to a sinus infection and then some other infection. (RSV? It was going around.)

January 2023: No longer coughing, began slowly and reasonably training for the Boston Marathon in April.

February 2023: Knee pain?!?!

March 2023: Knee still in pain, can barely walk, let alone run. Hauled myself off to PT only to discover the cause of my knee pain is actually an imbalance, possibly due to overcompensating due to the lower back/hip pain I developed after sleeping on the couch for two weeks while I had Covid.

April 2023: Ran the Boston Marathon on minimal training and didn't do too bad, all things considered.

Summer 2023: Able to run slowly but comfortably. Had a glorious five weeks of running while studying in New Zealand. Even got down to tempo pace for a mile or two at one point.

September 2023: Returned home, tried running, couldn't breathe.

October/November 2023: Saw an allergist after a month and was diagnosed with a mold allergy (mold season in Seattle is ... bad ... but also never affected me before). The doctor concluded that this allergy and the exacerbation of my asthma in the aftermath of Covid is possibly due to having had Covid.

Started a daily inhaled steroid to help my lungs. Started being able to get through easy (3 mile) runs. Weaned myself off of it.

January 2024: New start! Committed to building back with daily runs and/or strength training sessions. Running does not feel as good as it used to. I have lost a lot of core strength over the past year and it makes a huge difference in how I feel during a run. Everything feels like a huge effort and thinking about ever being able to do a speed workout again is daunting, but at least I can run.

January 20, 2024: Fell down the motherfucking stairs in my house and severely bruised my tailbone, setting myself back YET AGAIN.

All of this is boring and unimportant if you are not me but if you're looking for context, this is it! I don't claim to be, like, a superstar athlete or anything but for the past decade or so I've been an "age group" runner, performing at or near the top of my age group in local races, running in the lead pack in group runs, hitting pretty tough (and I realize, somewhat arbitrary) qualifying standards (the Boston Marathon was a dream for a long time, and I finally got there), and seeing my times drop despite being in my forties now. It's hard, and humbling, to fall too far behind in such a short time. And it's hard to see my friends still excelling and feel like I'm being left behind. This is why Jack is kind of a sad, anxious mess in that fic! Because I am a sad, anxious mess!

#personal

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hebuiltfive · 10 months

Text

The Waiting Room

Buddy and Ellie fall sick, leaving Gordon dealing with a very nervous Alan in the veterinarian waiting room.

Words: 1,237

Rating: Gen. Audiences.

Tags: Comfort, alan's having a bad night, Mentions of Anxiety

Notes: My cat had to go in for an operation today and I've been a nervous wreck, so I wrote out my feelings via Alan (sorry Al).

I'm in no way an expert of reptiles. Any and all information is garnered from a quick Google search, so if there are mistakes, that's why.

Read it below or on AO3 here.

He'd never seen the kid pace so much, and this was Alan be was talking about. Alan, the little ball of anxiety who was always animated with some kind of energy, nervous or otherwise. It was almost disconcerting to watch.

Gordon sighed. “Al. Come and sit."

"Can't." His little brother replied, nails now being bitten between nervously chattering teeth.

Thankfully they were the only ones currently in the waiting room. Having to fly over at one in the morning certainly had Virgil grumbling at the controls, but it did give them the privacy to panic in peace, at least.

"You'll wear a hole in their linoleum if you don’t." Gordon patted the plastic seat beside him. "Sit."

At first, he thought Alan hadn't been listening, too wrapped up in his thoughts to pay heed to what Gordon was saying, but eventually his brother ceased his anxious pacing and took the seat offered.

His nails had been given a reprieve from being chewed too, much to Gordon's relief, instead replaced with a bouncing leg. Clearly that excess energy was still in need of shaking out.

"They're going to be fine." Gordon reassured him, placing a comforting hand on Alan's shoulder.

Alan didn't say anything, he just continued to stare at one specific stain on the floor.

"These guys are the best in the country.” Gordon continued. “They’re in good hands."

"This is all my fault."

And there was the confession, incorrect as it may have been, that Gordon had been waiting for. His little brother had it in his head that he must be to blame for Buddy and Ellie’s affliction.

G ently, Gordon shook his head. "No."

"Yes! I should have been watching them more carefully. I should have taken notice. I mean, how do you not notice them turning yellow?”

"Alan, you're with them whenever you can be. You never take your eyes off them when you're home."

"That's not true."

… Gordon paused because o kay, maybe that was a little exaggeration, but he wasn't going to play into that right there and then. "Allie, listen to me. It isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is!"

"You didn't make them sick."

"Oh, my God! What if I did? What if I brought something home with me after a rescue? What if I infected them with something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Exactly, Al, because that’s probably not what happened. Living creatures get sick all the time, it's just a sucky part of living."

Alan's head dropped, his chin resting against his collarbone. "What if I've killed them because I wasn't diligent enough?"

"They're not dead!”

"Yeah, not yet. What if Virgil walks out of that room without them? What if they died on the table? What if the vet had to ‘put them down'? Gordo, I won’t be able to live with myself if i killed them."

“Alan, dude! Slow down, alright? I am ninety nine percent sure you’ve not killed them."

“That’s not one hundred percent sure.”

“That’s because not everything in life is a guarantee.”

The Tracy family were no stranger to that line, and whilst it hurt Gordon to be so blunt and to the point, he knew Alan needed to hear it.

The fact that his brother had jumped to that conclusion so quickly, however, hadn’t escaped Gordon’s notice.

"Alan, look at me. Buddy and Ellie are going to be fine."

Simply b ecause they had to be.

Whilst Alan had taken more of a liking to the dragons, they had been Gordon's gift from two of his heroes. At first, Gordon had been keen on sending the dragons to a sanctuary in Australia because reptiles were very much not his thing. Being chased through wild jungles with overgrown cousins had made cemented that fear he had of reptiles, but after seeing his little brother so enamoured by them his viewpoint over whether they should keep the dragons quickly changed.

After all, this was Alan who had been pestering Scott for years about getting a fluffy dog to cuddle and play with. Bearded dragons weren't exactly in the same ballpark, so if Alan wanted to keep them, Alan could keep them. Scott didn’t seem to have a problem with it, after all they took less space than a dog would have done, and Gordon didn’t have to worry about finding them new homes.

So, no. Whatever Alan believed to be the worst just wasn't going to be an possibility. They were International Rescue. They saved people all the time. Two little dragons should be no problem.

The minutes passed and began to feel like hours, slowly ticking by. Alan shuffled on his seat to rest his head against Gordon's shoulder, and Gordon instinctively wrapped his arm around his little brother as both a comfort to Alan and to himself.

Virgil finally reappeared after what felt like an eternity. He held the little carrier in one hand, closing the door to the examination room gently behind him.

Alan jumped to his feet, that nervous bouncing remaining as he hopped from one foot to the other. Gordon stood to join him, his arm still draped over his little brother's shoulder.

"Well?" Alan asked as Virgil approached them. He crouched a little to see into the cage, to make sure that his beloved dragons were still in there, breathing and alive. “What happened?”

"They're going to be fine." Virgil declared, giving Gordon a small nod when he met his eye.

It didn't surprise the aquanaut that their older brother been worried about Alan too. The kid had been fit to bursting when he stormed Gordon's room not two hours before, almost in tears because something was wrong with Buddy and Ellie. He'd had to whole household worried.

"What is it? Is it normal? Will they heal?"

"It's called Yellow Fungus. Yes, it is common. Yes, they will heal. We caught it fast enough so the veterinarian is confident that with the right course of treatment, Buddy and Ellie will be as good as new soon."

"See, Al?" Gordon began, bumping his shoulder with his little brother's as Alan went to relieve Virgil of the carrier. "Told you they'll be okay."

But Alan wasn't listening. He’d been given the all-clear and was now too busy whispering words of reassurance to the dragons as he slowly made his way to the exit.

"I've got to just go pay for the appointment and treatment." Virgil said, placing said treatment bag into Gordon's hands.

"The kid's going to do more damage to himself by walking into a wall if he doesn't look where he's going.” Gordon commented, his eyes following his little brother as he very nearly collided with one of the columns. “Alan! Eyes front!”

His warning call was to no avail. He sighed. "Honestly, he's going to give himself an injury if he isn't careful. Think the vets treat gremlins too?"

Beside him, Virgil chuckled. "He's relieved they’re okay, that’s all. Thanks for watching him, by the way. It was probably best he wasn't in there."

"Eh, no problemo. Why else do you think I tagged along?"

In the distance, there was a slight bump, followed by an ow as Alan had very gracefully collided with the doorframe rather than walking through the door.

To his credit, Gordon resisted the urge to face-palm. "I got it. You go pay. We'll wait for you in Two."

"F.A.B."

#thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #gordon tracy #fic: the waiting room #five fics

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Note

As we know in the future Viktor will come the Machine Herald, well what if the reader was a mage and went away, but she came back after a long time. The question will be that the New Viktor is still in love with the reader?

Listen, listen. I know....so very little about the Viktor lore. And I am currently in adamant denial about him becoming what he does - in my head he lives happily and healthily XD I'm too attached to him and it's gonna end my life when he removes his emotions.

Like, guy turns into a machine? I'm totally cool with that, and I think it's neat, and I'd still kiss him x1000. but it makes me so sad that he takes his feelings away, and i have such a hard time believing that it would even be possible. Because like. like. everything is feelings. and he does some super morally dubious stuff, which i am in full support of, but it! the feelings!!!! passion is a feeling, love is a feeling, care is a feeling - why would he continue to do any of what he does if he didn't have at least some kind of desire to? desire is a feeling! i don't know if this is touched upon in the lore!!!

anyways thats my rant and if i ever write more MH!Viktor it's going to continue to be horribly ooc because its my fic and i said so XD

MH!Viktor x Reader (SFW)

-When you’d left Piltover, you hadn’t thought it would be the last time you saw the man you loved.

-It’s just for a month, you’d said, trying to convince yourself that everything would be okay. One of your old friends had alerted you to a kind of magic that could potentially save your partner’s life, so you…you had to take the chance. For him. For both of you.

-And then your plans had hit a snag, and you’d been forced to stay away longer than initially planned - years longer. Even though your journey is fruitful, you’re a ball of anxiety on the way back to Piltover.

-You were terrified of what you might find. Would Viktor still be there? You wondered. Would he have waited for you? Would he even still…be alive?

-Both of you had worked tirelessly to find ways to extend his life, and avoid his fast-approaching end. You knew in your heart that he would have had to find a solution on his own, with how long you’d been gone; the little vial of fairy tears you’d collected after a series of arduous tests was moot, because he wouldn’t have survived so long without some kind of help.

-When you arrive back home, everything is…the same. Sort of.

-It looks the same, on the outside, but you can feel the energy in the air. Something had shifted within the city, and not for the better. You could practically taste the fear and anguish on your tongue.

-The first thing you do is locate Jayce, a beloved friend and Viktor’s lab partner.

-Or you supposed…ex-lab partner. According to the man himself. He scoops you into a tight hug the moment he lays eyes on you, spinning you around a couple times before setting you back on your feet. It’s an emotional meeting for the both of you, especially when the happenings of the last few years are relayed to you.

-An explosion. Chaos. War. Outrage in Piltover and death in the undercity. And Viktor, exiled from the city of progress, back to the place he once called home.

-Jayce informs you that he hasn’t heard from Viktor in over a year now - not that they really had much reason to speak to one another, anyways. He practically begs you to stay, to keep working on the projects you’d left behind, but you can’t.

-Not until you knew what happened to the man you love.

-You depart for Zaun in the wee hours of the morning, slipping unnoticed by every enforcer you come across, until you’re in the heart of the undercity. But now…where to start looking?

-You search for him for a week, asking around and dropping coppers where needed. But so few people know of a stray scientist, and those who do are either dead, or their information culminates in a dead end.

-And then you meet him.

-You’re sitting on a crate in a dark alleyway, fighting off tears, when a strange mechanical whirr catches your attention. It’s not loud by any means, but that makes it all the more confusing. It almost sounds…hydraulic? But far smaller than you’ve ever heard from such a machine.

-You glance towards the sound with tired eyes, expecting…something besides what you see. Two orange eyes, staring right back at you. Bright and unnatural within the dark.

-You don’t have the sense to feel fear anymore. All your fears had come true, anyways - your plan failed, and the only person you’ve ever loved is dead. Nothing mattered anymore.

- “You are incredibly difficult to find,” the person speaks. You glance behind you, thinking perhaps there is someone else in the alleyway - but no, it’s just you. You and…whoever this is.

-You idly wonder where he’s from. His accent is thick, almost like…Viktor’s.

- “What do you want?” you ask, with a sigh. “I have no debts to be paid, and all I’ve ever held dear is long gone.”

-The person is silent for a couple moments, and then slowly steps forward. Tall and slightly menacing, in the dim lighting. Covered in armor, you guess, if the sheen of light is anything to go by. Until you notice the limb protruding from his back, and you freeze.

-Or was he made of metal?

-You warily keep your eyes on him, until he comes to a stop not a foot from you, and kneels down so you’re at eye level. “Do you not fear me?” he asks, curious.

- “I don’t have fear anymore,” you rasp. “How can I, when I have nothing left to lose?”

- “You have your life, do you not?” he inquires again, and your patience snaps.

- “What good is my life when I have lost everything I hold dear?” you hiss. “I failed, and those which I love paid the price for it. I don’t want to live! Not without….” you trail off, your eyes welling up with tears. “Not without Viktor.”

-The strange machine-man goes quiet again. Then, most surprising of all, he reaches out to touch you.

-Startlingly gentle, given his stature and imposing nature, as well as the fact that you don’t know each other. You stare at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to say to such an action.

- “I thought you had stayed away on purpose,” he says, lowering his voice. “Thought that perhaps you’d finally had enough, and had left for a new life. But then…then I wondered: had you met your end, as I, too, soon would?”

-You frown.

-He continues, “Now you’ve returned, and I know. You are alive and well…and you fought hard to come home.”

-The tears in your eyes flood over your lashes, and burn hot trails down your cheeks. “Viktor?” you ask, your voice wavering. He strokes his thumb over your cheek and -mechanical or not- the action brings you comfort.

-And then you’re in his arms, tenderly wrapped up in metal while you sob and cling to him. It shouldn’t feel like home - it shouldn’t feel like him. But it does. He does, despite being so vastly different.

-He brings you to his home after that, scooping you up with ease and marching you right into his abode. Most of it is littered with spare parts and projects that you don’t recognize, and he admits to you that he doesn’t do much else besides work, now.

-And then he takes off his mask, laying it on a nearby table with a dull thunk.

-He looks so different, you think. Yet there, in his face, you can see traces of who he used to be. The little crinkles by the corners of his eyes, the crease between his brows, the little moles and freckles you used to love to kiss.

- “I am not…the same…as I used to be,” he explains. “I don’t feel like I used to, not in any sense.”

-Your heart sinks.

- “You don’t feel for me anymore,” you wobble, despair clawing its way through your chest. Of course he wouldn’t love you still, after so long of being away. You’re grateful that he’s alive, but you’re…angry. Downright pissed, that you’ve still had to lose what you love, despite him standing in front of you.

-And then.

- “I still feel for you,” he utters, once again bringing a large mechanical hand to rest on your jaw. Engulf the side of your head, more like. “In fact, you are all I feel for. The only memories that haven’t hurt too much to keep. And now, you’re here.”

-Hope blooms within you.

-He wasn’t the same as he was when you’d fallen in love - but neither were you the same as when you’d left. But he’d held you dear enough to keep you in his heart when he’d changed - and you’d be damned if you let the opportunity go. Perhaps you’d have to relearn how to coexist, but the love was still there, even if only for each other.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #big robot man loves one thing and its his significant other #that is the takeaway from this jot-note story #requests are open!

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invisibleraven · 1 year

Note

asking your “friend” to be your plus-one to another friend’s wedding for Willie/anyone. I think he'd be an amazing 'help I need a date'.

"So..."

"What do you want?"

Willie pouts, twisting his fingers together. "Who says I want anything?"

Alex looks up at him over the edge of his book. "You only start sentences with so... if you want something, so out with it or let me get back to my book."

"Clementine is getting married."

"Mazel tov, what does that have to do with me?" Alex asked, eyes already trained back on the page.

"I'm going, but I don't want to go alone." Alex glanced up at that. "I used to work with have the invite list, and I left claiming I was gonna find my purpose, or at least a boyfriend. I have found neither, so I cannot go to this wedding stag."

"So ask Reggie, he loves weddings," Alex said.

"Except he's friends with half my former coworkers, and all of them know he's dating Julie. Would be kind of weird if I showed up with him on my arm. Especially since I think they're invited as well," Willie said.

"Why not ask Luke?"

"He's working, and Bobby already said no."

"So I'm a last resort?" Alex said with a withering glance.

"I know you get anxiety at large events," Willie replied. "Otherwise you would have been the top of my list, honest."

"Will there be food?"

"Caleb is letting them have it at the club, so I imagine so," Willie said, hope invading his voice.

"Shit, I was hoping you wouldn't say his name," Alex swore. "Now I have to go so you don't punch Caleb and end up in jail."

"I would never sully Clem's wedding with violence!" Willie said with a mock affronted gasp. Which Alex just glared at him for. "Look, Caleb's a first rate bastard, but even he wouldn't start shit there, so I'll be good."

"Uh huh. When is it?"

"Saturday night?"

"Lucky you, I'm free. You are buying all the drinks, and paying for the Uber home," Alex said, eyes back on his book.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Willie shouted. Alex grumbled out something that sounded like 'you're welcome' but Willie was too excited to hear.

On Saturday night, Willie straightened out his bright yellow tie, the lapels of his dark black suit, grinning at the mirror. He looked good. At least no one at the club would be saying otherwise.

But he was still nervous, because Alex had yet to emerge from his room and they were going to be late if they didn't leave soon. "You ready?" he called.

"Yeah yeah, keep your pants on!"

Alex came out, and he looked like a ray of sunshine. He was in a suit the same colour as Willie's tie, with a classic white shirt and black tie, looking amazing.

"Damn Mercer, you clean up good!" Willie hooted, letting out an obnoxious wolf whistle. Alex rolled his eyes, but did nothing to hide the soft pink blush or the pleased little smile on his face.

"Let's go." Alex took his arm and they were off.

The wedding was lovely of course. Clem looked stunning in her sparkly silver dress, like a disco ball come to life. Her partner was in a suit of deep midnight blue flecked with gold, and they made a stunning pair. Willie totally didn't tear up at the vows, no matter how many tissues he and Alex seemingly went through.

The reception was bangin', as was expected. The chefs at the club had gone all out, and it seemed as though Caleb was avoiding him, which Willie was happy enough with. Plus Alex knew how to cut a rug, so the two of them set the floor on fire as they twirled and bopped together.

Only, then there was a slow son, and Alex didn't hesitate to draw Willie into his arms and sway them around the room. And maybe it was the wedding, or the few glasses of champagne, but Willie sighed as he rested his head on Alex's shoulder. "Thanks for coming with me."

"I am actually having a lot of fun, so I'm glad I did," Alex murmured back. "Best date I've been on in a while."

Willie smiled, nuzzling in further. Wait... date? This wasn't a date. But he really really wanted it to be.

Oh.

Willie clutched Alex all the tighter as the song played on, not wanting this moment to end. But it did, and they broke apart, red faced and a little awkward. They giggled as they went back to the table, picking at the rest of their food, drinking more. And when the next slow song started, Alex offered Willie his hand, and he took it gladly.

So maybe it wasn't a date, but as they grew closer and closer on the dance floor, Willie wondered if he asked Alex out tomorrow what his answer would be.

For now, he'd keep dancing, happy enough in the fantasy.

Little did he know that the next wedding they would go to would be as a real couple. And the one after that? Would be theirs.

#filled prompts #ficlet #willex #julie and the phantoms

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crmsnmth · 2 months

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September Sky Chapter Four, part 4

That had been on Monday. Six days ago. It felt like it was a whole different time period, yet somehow that it just happened. Sitting here, in the early morning dark royal purples, time didn't matter. My heart finally caught up to itself and my breathing came easy. Soon enough I was asleep again.

* * * *

I had maybe an hour or so before Addison would be here. We had decided on some place I've never heard of called Atomic Cafe. I ended up making her pick where, because I don't know shit for vegan places. According to Addison, this place had a great menu, featuring vegan and omnivore foods. And although I was thankful it did have other options, I would've been fine with a place that just served vegan or vegetarian foods. i was so thankful she had picked something. I would've never figured it out.

I was out in the backyard, chain-smoking and pacing along the small and neglected lawn. Most of the gross was brown and dead, and soon the earth would reclaim its place, and this would all be dirt. It wasn't our fault. it was already crappy when we first moved in. And the landlord never tried to blame us for it. I guess we had a pretty good landlord. He wasn't a slumlord and if something went wrong, you better believe he be there.

A nervous, panicky energy was flowing through me, riding the highways of my veins. It made it impossible to sit still, for even just a second. Trust me, I tried. The power plant inside of me held me tight from the moment I woke up this morning. I tried every distraction I could, from playing video games to walking around the block. Nothing helped.

Not for the first time, I panicked and wanted to call her and cancel. Somehow I was working through it. I think knowing I couldn't fuck this chance up was more of a help then a hindrance. I was freaking out, yeah, that was true, but I was freaking out alone. Maybe I'd get it all out of my system. This, of course, was just wishful thinking.

I paced, making a trail in the dead grass. Back and forth, back and forth. I tossed a cigarette butt off into the alley behind the house. Tom usually parked back here, but he wasn't home.

It seemed I was looking at my phone every minute. At least that's what it felt like. In all reality, I don't think even a full minute would pass before I would check it again. I'd look at the screen in some word form of hope and desperation.

Anticipation plus high anxiety is like being made entirely of electricity. It wasn't really that horrible of a feeling. Actually, it was kind of nice. And oddly exhilarating. I couldn't tell you why though. I could almost feel the bolts in my fingertips. I looked around quick, making sure no was looking at me, or around. Then I tried to use Force lightning because I am geeky kid in a punk frame. It did not work, just in case you were wondering.

I stopped pacing, tossed my half full cigarette into the alley, and headed back inside. I headed through the house, moving fast to get to my room. Dennis's gunshots were bleeding into the hall, like normal. I checked to make sure I had everything I needed. I didn't really need all that much. My wallet, which I wore chained cause I won't let that image fade away, my phone, cigarettes, lighter and keys. That's it. Four things. I had already hit the ATM earlier in the day.

My laptop sat open on the bed. I dropped myself next to it, grabbing it and clicking on to Facebook, for the millionth time that day. I had nothing from anybody, so I just sat their scrolling and looking at the clock every few seconds. Chad suddenly was online.

CHRIS: What's up?

CHAD: Not much. Isn't today your date?

CHRIS: In about a half hour.

CHAD: Ah, that makes sense.

CHRIS: I'm a fucking ball of lightning right now. I even tried to use Force Lightning.

CHAD: Lol, for real? CHRIS: Yeah, in the backyard.

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how-to-do-it-better · 2 months

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A Guy's Guide To His 1st Date

A How-To guide for Those terrified about the other sex.

With contributions from DG Hear. Listen to the Podcast at How To Sex.

Throughout the years dating has changed. Those who have gone back into dating in recent years, for whatever reason, have probably found it's a whole new ball game. But more than a few people enter their twenties, still terrified to initiate a romantic venture.

Some are still impacted by traumatic events of their youth. Still others are limited because of harmful indoctrination by an influential person whose even more screwed up. And some are just simply so shy, and terrified that they might face rejection, or even ridicule.

Folks re-entering the dating scene, later in life, have a similar anxiety, because of societal changes, over time.

Most cultures still expect a guy to take the initiative. While gals are not scorned for overtly expressing interest first; the reality is that ladies are generally feeling even more anxiety about the elusive first date.

One of the easiest ways to ‘break the ice’ is with eye contact and a warm smile, while greeting someone you have particular interest in. If the other person is ‘caught off guard’ you might not get an immediate affirmation of their interest. But be patient. They’ll think about it and make adjustments upon re-engagement with you; usually by their own initiative.

Teens have this crazy notion of establishing a ‘going with’ status, rather than simply having one social event together. Kids tell you who they’re ‘going with’ even though they never went anywhere.

If your cordial relationship seems mutually reciprocated, It’s time to ask; “Can I take you out on a date?” If that works out well, Have the date soon. It doesn’t need to be a big event, or include expensive meals or concerts.

The truth is, what you both really are looking forward to is, each other. Trust me, a girl will text her girlfriend after, and she won’t talk about the places she went to, she’ll talk about the guy who took her there.

When you’re first date is nearly over, ask to hold her hand as you walk to the car, or to her home. An enthusiastic response means she likes you. She may want you to kiss her when you say ‘good night.’

Be sure to get all her contact info before the date is over. And send her a text within a day, thanking her for sharing a date with you. Take some time to assess if you want a 2nd date, or if what you really want is someone else. Separate, in your mind, whether it’s her you like, or dating, itself.

Getting past your first brave dating effort is a huge accomplishment, and you should feel great about it. If you’re still looking for the ‘right one,’ your next effort will be easier than your first brave act. But how do you find the kind of person you really want to pursue?

Let’s hear more from DG, about getting into the dating arena.

How to find someone to date:

To begin, we need to know some of the places to find someone willing to go out with us. This shouldn't be too hard to do. I might say, before I start that, most of my comments and helpful hints are mainly for the male gender, but some ladies might find some interesting facts as well.

Malls and movie houses can be a good place to meet people as well as the Laundromat and your local bars and lounges. A nicer way is if you are lucky enough to have friends to help you find that right person. If all else fails, you can go on-line and find a friend or nowadays we have rent-a-date escort services. If you can't find at least a hooker then you might as well stop reading now. I can't help you. Just buy your hand a beer and watch a porno movie.

Even though this is some serious stuff I'm explaining to you, we still might find a laugh or two.

How-to guide for kissing:

Kissing used to be easy, but not anymore. First, let's deal with braces. If your woman (this stuff is for adults) wears braces, be very careful and kiss her lips very softly. If you apply too much pressure, her lips will push against her gums and cut the hell out of the inside of her lips and your date will be over before it began.

If you both wear braces, you might stick to kissing on the cheek only. If you get caught in a big lip lock, you might get your braces locked together also. You won't even be able to make it to the hospital unless you get a friend to drive you there. Give kissing some serious thought before proceeding with braces.

Older people are now out in the dating game. If you have false teeth, you might watch your kissing also. Light pressure open-mouth kisses are acceptable. Do not under any circumstances try French or kissing using the tongue. Just picture this: your woman sticks her tongue in your mouth and your dentures come loose. Need I say more?

Another thing about kissing; especially open-mouth and giving tongue type kisses. You might want to consider where your date's mouth has been prior to the date with you. This could be a problem when using a dating service or prostitute.

How to disrobe your date:

Let's begin by me undressing my lover. I try to unbutton her blouse but the little button doesn't seem to come through the little slit like it's supposed to. Finally, I get it undone and see her breasts staring me in the face behind her bra. Here is the problem I found out last year.

I reach my hand behind her back while we are kissing, feeling for the clasp on her bra. Where the hell is the damn thing? I'm an ultra male; I don't want to have to ask her. Finally in a nice way, we unlock lips and she says, "The clasp is in the front." Then in a very faint voice I hear the word, "Moron."

I quickly undo the clasp and let these big babies bounce out. I want to pull her bra off but it gets tangled in her blouse. Now I have to pull them off together trying to get them off her shoulders in a loving way like they do on TV.

After getting feedback on the subject, I now know what to do and will pass it on to you. While kissing her when her blouse is still on, rub your finger along her bra line. If it's smooth all the way across then the clasp is in the front and you won't feel so stupid. If you feel it in the middle of her back while rubbing the bra line then, of course, it has a back clasp. You should remove her blouse before un-clasping her bra.

Next, I want to remove her jeans. I have now learned to tell my ladies to remove them before climbing on the bed; saves a lot of hassle, unless you're a specialist in removing a woman's clothing. I made the mistake a few times of trying to gently remove her jeans while she is lying on the bed. Big, big mistake! Women buy jeans at least one size too small! The jeans look great on them, nice and tight, but they are hell to pull off. Believe me; I've tried more than once. If you can get it over her ass, you might have a chance. I never seemed to be that lucky, as I had to climb up and try to pull the jeans under her ass, scooting each side down about an inch at a time.

You want to do this without pulling her panties off at the same time. You might have to pull her panties and jeans down a little and then kind of pull the panties back up and then back to the jeans again. Hopefully, you were lucky enough to get the jeans down to her thighs. If she has big thighs, you might have to keep scooting the jeans one side at a time. Whatever you do, keep complimenting her on her body, even if she has thunder thighs and stretch marks. Don't ask her to spread her legs - it doesn't sound good. If she doesn't do it automatically for you, then scoot up between them and push her legs apart yourself, but not too far - you still have to get her jeans off.

How to get on the bed:

Hopefully, by now your date is naked. Somewhere along the line you should have removed your own clothing. You should usually leave your underwear on till you are ready to expose your big Johnson (cock).

Last year I tried to explain getting on the bed while kissing. A totally bad idea!

I wanted us to fall together on the bed gently like they do in the movies. So I held onto her and kind of pulled her toward me so we could fall together onto the bed. Big mistake! I didn't say anything to her while she lost her footing and fell on me as we bumped heads. It kind of killed the mood since now she needed a couple of aspirin for the headache she was quickly getting.

Another time my date and I were kissing when we fell together on the bed. She sent me her dental bill for the loose teeth she received.

I've never gotten that falling together down right. I tried to fall on the bed by myself over a hundred times so I could explain to the readers the best way to do this. Believe me, there isn't any good way to fall on the bed alone, let alone with a partner. Now I just tell my lady friend to climb on the bed and then I climb on top of her. I can't believe how many aspirin I have saved, and no more dental bills. Of course I might add, if she wants to be on top, that's okay too.

How to use foreplay:

Women love foreplay. The first thing and also the main thing to remember is to compliment! compliment! compliment! Women love compliments. I don't care if it's her hair, boobs, belly, feet, toes or nose, compliment her on it. You will be glad you did.

Hopefully your woman should now be lying on your bed with only her panties on. You should climb on the bed and have some foreplay before going much further. Women usually like this unless you are as inept as I was till I started practicing on using foreplay.

Let's talk a little about her erogenous zones. Women have many of them. Most men know about her nipples, neck, lips and the whole vaginal area. There are others that I have found lately and would like to pass on to you.

The shoulders: I can't tell you how many women have let me rub their shoulders. Of course you start there and they may let you massage a lot of other places as well. Women also love to have their feet massaged. Rub the little balls under their toes. After being on their feet all day, they will love you for this. If they have nice cute clean feet, you might consider sucking a toe or two. Of course you will need to check their feet out pretty good before sucking any toes. You have to be the judge here.

One of the newest places I have found that turn women on, is the area between their belly button and their mound. I can't tell you what a hot area this is on most women. I have to admit that this area is a turn on for me too, knowing that I am probably minutes away from pay dirt. Try both rubbing and kissing this area. No matter how big your woman is, this area is a turn-on.

Time to start the foreplay: I was kissing my woman over and over again. I was planting my lips against her taking her breath away. Literally! I didn't know she wasn't able to breath and she started kicking and moving under me. I thought I was really getting her turned on. I was 'Jerry, the super kisser.' I found out she wasn't able to breathe through her nose. I guess I really took her breath away. You might want to ask or at least make the kisses short if you see this happening.

I started kissing her neck like they do in the movies. Again, another mistake! I sucked too hard and gave her a hickey. For those of you who don't know what a hickey is I'll explain. It's sucking hard on her neck or other soft places that leave a bruise. Most women don't want hickeys. It's embarrassing especially if other people see the bruises and she has to try to explain it. If she's married, you might be in 'mucho' trouble.

Kissing and playing with her boobs. This was information I passed along last year but it still holds true. The boobs or breasts are a big misunderstood area. Some women loved them played with. None like them mauled - believe me, I found out the hard way.

Remembering one of my first big breasted women, I couldn't wait to get hold of those big babies and I grabbed them. She screamed out, slapped me and went home. The next lady, I tried to just squeeze them hoping to turn her on. Again, a mistake! She told me I felt like a mammogram machine - you know; those machines that squeeze the shit out of a woman's tits. No woman - and I mean NO woman - wants her breasts squashed, regardless of the size of her boobs.

Here is the right way to do it. I learned after the loss of sex from many women. Don't get your hands near those babies until you have laid some light kisses on them, lots of light kisses. Don't bite! Remember that women do not want sucker bites or any kinds of bites or bruising they might have to explain. Sucking of the nipples are a big "Yes". Women like this - maternal instinct or something - but women love sucking, licking and kissing of the nipples. If the nipples get big, you're doing real good.

If you did the sucking and licking right, you may now gently massage the breasts. I usually get yelled at and slapped by this time or my woman goes home with sore boobs. If you succeeded to this point, then rub and gently massage her breasts and softly touch the nipples. Be damn gentle with the nipples here. She hopefully is getting into it by now and will let you start to squeeze those babies. If she's moaning or groaning, that is a good sign. If she's just lying there you might want to find out why. She may be sleeping or worse - dead. If she is dead, call 911 and go home. You will be considered a freak if you go any further. That was a joke, readers. You have to learn to laugh a little.

Here is some more information I passed along last year. I did get some negative feedback from a couple of women who said most men's bodies aren't attractive either. I totally agree with them. A beer belly or hairy back isn't the most exciting thing for a woman to look at. This is one of the reasons that under no conditions should you say anything negative about the body of your date.

If she has stretch marks or a rather large belly don't say anything negative. If you do, your night will be over. Remember most women's bodies do not look like the ones you see on the big screen or the calendar on the wall. If you look anything like me, be glad that you have anybody that moves lying there in front of you. Close your eyes if you have to, but rub and kiss the belly even if it's not attractive.

Let's keep going. Move your hand into her panties. If she has a pad on, you have a problem. Either you have to go further or get up and go home. At this point you might want to pull her panties off and check under the hood so to speak. If you pull her panties off along with the pad or pulled the string and removed the tampon, you have to decide how bad you want it. If she let you go this far, she definitely wants to do it. So what are you going to do? If you don't fuck her now, believe me, you never will!

These kinds of decisions never have to be made on TV shows.

Let's say she's on her period. Put on a condom and jump her bones. This is what I suggest you do. Use the stupid condom and have fun. If you don't have one or don't like wearing them - and I don't like them - just stick it in as long as you know she is disease free. Blood and cum will always wash off. She'll consider you the man for doing her during this period.

No blood? No problem, she probably wears it for leaks. It only happens in real life. Women laugh, women pee, the pad absorbs it. So, if the pad isn't wet, jump her bones. If the pad is wet, wipe her pussy off with a wash cloth - that's something you never see on TV but it does help. Then proceed to eat her out. Believe me; every woman except the really weird ones likes her pussy eaten out. She may not like to give head but she loves receiving it.

Let's talk a little about oral sex. It's a big decision these days. One thing every man ought to know. If you don't plan on eating her pussy then don't expect her to be giving you any head.

We had a big discussion last year over whether a person with false teeth should keep them in or take them out.

If your woman has false teeth and wants to give you a blowjob, let her remove said teeth. You do not need her to accidentally bite your dick. It hurts and might make it unusable for awhile. The warm gums feel great around it. Don't kiss her till she puts her teeth back in her mouth and maybe even use mouthwash.

I asked for opinions on this and here are a few I received.

"If you have false teeth, leave them in your mouth. It is gross for your date to see your teeth in a glass next to the bed."

"Sorry to say but that last part is a crock of shit. If she has false teeth, under no circumstances should you ask her to take them out. You'll think your dick is in a pussy that's just been fist fucked by a 10 ton truck....it'll be so loose that you won't feel anything. Nothing she can do will change it as without teeth the space in the mouth is so great that no cock can fill it and make it feel good for the guy. Furthermore, her jaws will ache so much from trying to suck and not being able to apply proper pressure...the only way she could; would be if the guy had one of those 14 inches, wide as a beer can cock you mentioned earlier."

"Look DG, I have to tell you. If she has false teeth and takes them off, you're in for a big surprise, not good at all. With no teeth it's impossible to suck properly and the vacuum needed to perform fellatio is absent; furthermore, her jaws will ache like crazy. Believe me, if she has false teeth, let her keep them on. There's no more danger of being bitten then if it was her real teeth."

Personally, if I'm eating a moist wet pussy, I take my teeth out so I can gum it and slurp in all the wet juices. The dentures take away from the feeling that I get. So, teeth or no-teeth, that is the question. As they say on Fox news, "You decide."

How to get that, "Oh, what a feeling":

Last year I said, "Most pussies are really not that pretty. I have seen a lot of them and still get turned on by them, regardless of how ugly they might be."

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I decided most all pussies are beautiful. Soft, wet, moist, what's not to love? Now the smell is another story. To me, not every pussy smells the same. If you like fish, it will be a plus for you. I know, in all the stories you read the writers are talking about the heavenly smell. It only smells like that when you are at your horniest. At that point every pussy looks and smells great!

A word or two about bushes. Most ladies trim their bushes some, younger ones mainly to trim up the hair for their bathing suit bottoms. On the TV they always look great. At the pool where I hang out, I always see the hair sticking out the sides of their suits. Looks funny but I can't help looking anyway. Of course I'm a pussy hound and the hair doesn't bother me, especially in a dim light. It seems that a number of ladies shave it all off. It's okay but I think I prefer to see some hair down there.

If you see some gray hair on it, don't worry about it. It means she probably knows how to use it. Experience you know is always good. If you get hair between your teeth, try to just remove it without being seen. She usually can't see you over her belly anyway.

Use of condoms is big these days; lots of diseases to worry about. I was watching a lot of porno movies so that I could give you good 'how to' information here. Most of the porn stars are wearing condoms in their films. It kind of takes away from the film but I guess the actors want to live to fuck another day.

I brought this up because in the porno films, they always remove the condom before coming. They jack themselves off on the partners back or ass. Sometimes they have their woman actress slide down and cum all over her face.

Now, a bit more honesty here. That's why I'm writing this how to, to tell you the truth. I talked to a number of women and none of them got anything out of me pulling my cock out of her pussy and coming on her back. Their answer was, "What the fuck?"

Also, I have yet to find the woman that says, "Pull your dick out of my pussy, I'm about ready to orgasm, but go ahead and cum on my face."

Use the condom, fill it up while in her pussy and then dispose of it. You'll both be glad you did.

Some more information from last year. I'm still not big on anal sex.

Ass fucking: It's not for everybody, including me. I've tried it and it really wasn't that good. My partner said it hurt like hell and there was more than one partner I tried it with. If they don't have an enema or some other way of cleaning it out, it smells. I don't know about you but to me shit stinks. I really don't want it on my dick, even though in some of these stories they seem to like the Hershey highway.

For those of you who like anal sex, that's great. I'm not knocking you or your likes and dislikes. I'm just trying to base my opinions and observations here. The first time I ass fucked, I thought my dick was going to blow up. It didn't fit very well. I used all kinds of lube which helped get it in but it hurt me and it hurt my partner. I just felt my time would have been better spent if I put it in a hot wet pussy. No hard feelings for the anal lovers.

I have found out that while fucking from behind, (doggie style) that a finger or two inserted into the anal passage may be a turn-on. For those who want to try it, make sure your fingers are lubed or you rubbed a lot of her juices there first.

Update from a friend: "If a woman lets a man take her in the ass and then shits all over the floor, it's not her fault. So don't hold her responsible - you asked for it. Clean up the mess yourself."

Underwear, for the man, is always interesting. If you expect to get any, make sure you don't have skid marks in your underwear. That is good advice for both sexes. TV and movie people never have skid marks. No woman is turned on by seeing the nicotine stains in your jockeys. Same goes for the guys not wearing under clothing. Shit stains in your jeans aren't so good either.

For the guys, if you don't have underwear on, pull your own zipper down. If any skin gets caught in the zipper, it hurts like hell and your night will be over before it begins. Your lady friend might be in too big a hurry when pulling down your zipper.

By DG Hear

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thesugarclubs-blog · 9 months

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Always Been You - Sam Wilson x OC

warnings: injured Sam, hurtxcomfort, neighbors to lovers, sweet fluff

word count: 6.5k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1385057799-always-been-you-tamara

Masterlist

She hated nights like these. It had nothing to do with the fall chill that had settled comfortably over the night or the fact that her bottle of wine had been empty for the last three hours. Tamara glanced out of the front bay window of her home. Her gaze flickered to the darkened porch across the road just as she had done every night for the past two days.

Sam had always at least texted her to tell her when he was coming home. Every time his name lit up her screen it felt like she had swallowed a hoard of butterflies and though he never had to ask for her to wait up for him, she always did. Tamara checked her phone, again, just in case she had missed a text but still nothing.

As the night went on, his empty driveway did nothing to stifle the anxiety growing like a weighted ball in her stomach. Tamara pushed herself up off her couch, switching off the television she hadn’t been watching and moved to her kitchen. She started cleaning up her mess from dinner, washing dishes and doing everything she could to keep herself busy.

It wasn’t until after she wiped down her island for the third time that she tossed the rag onto the counter, taking a glimpse at the spotless kitchen. A flicker of light flashed over her living room, catching her attention. Her breath caught in her chest, knowing what that flicker meant. She made her way back to the window only to see his truck parked in the driveway. A sense of relief washed over her as she waited for him to climb out. His headlights turned off but when he stayed inside the truck her brows furrowed in worry. Something was wrong.

She waited a bit to see if he would open his door, maybe he just needed a minute. But as the seconds ticked by and there was no sign of movement Tamara quickly walked back into her living room, grabbing a cardigan from her coat rack and her keys and headed out the door. Running across the street she went up Sam’s driveway and his truck. When she got to the drivers side she knocked on the window.

“Sam?…” she froze, her knuckles against the glass. Sam was leaning against the headrest of his seat; the side of the face she could see was slightly swollen and red. What happened to him?

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, opening his dark eyes to meet hers, furrowing his brow and then wincing just slightly. There was a small cut on the side of his lip and Tamara could feel the budding concern in her chest grow the more she looked at him.

Tugging on the handle of the driver door, Sam plastered on a weak smile, "What are you doing up right now?" He groaned as he twisted his body to step out of the car.

"I - couldn't sleep," Tamara shook her head, extending her hands out to him, "let's get you inside."

"I'm fine," Sam huffed, a playful smirk trying to find its way onto his lips, "although I'd never turn down the offer to hold a pretty girls hands"

"Sam," she breathed out a chuckle as she helped him stand from the car. His dark blue long sleeve straining against his check with a small speck of red seeping through. Tamara had never wished for someone else to be hurt before but in that moment, she kind of hoped it was someone else's blood on his shirt and not his own. "When you didn't get out of the truck on your own, I got worried, '' she finally admitted quietly.

"You were worried about me?"

There was that cheeky Sam Wilson, breaking through the pain he was in just to get a rise out of her.

"More like I was worried about Sarah having a heart attack if she saw you passed out in your car," she teased back.

His laugh was interrupted by a groan as he clutched the side of his torso a little harder, his breathing a little labored and Tamara's heart broke at the sight of him in pain. She had to put on a strong face though so he wouldn't notice and try to hide from her.

"Come on let's get you inside, Sammy."

She urged him softly, slowly putting one foot in front of the other so he could keep up while leaning on her.

“I do wish you’d take better care of yourself,” she added, adjusting her position and sliding her arm around his waist.

“It’s not as if I choose to get hurt, Tamara. It’s my job.”

Tamara’s cheeks flushed hot at the almost angry tone in his voice but then he sighed.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Tamara took the blunt of his weight as she moved them slowly toward the door. She subtly looked him over as they hobbled in step with each other. The stain of blood across his chest that matched the trail down his pant leg.

His soft eyes caught hers, "I don't wanna bleed all over your clean house Tam-"

"Be quiet, you can mop it up later if it bothers you that much."

"Hold me to it," he groaned as she pulled open the door and shuffled them inside.

After she switched the lights on Tamara led him into her living room and towards her sofa. She gently sat him down and then quickly closed the blinds on the windows looking into the street before she hurried off to find her first aid kit and grabbed some towels from the kitchen. After running the towels under some warm water and filling a bucket with more water she headed back to Sam. Kneeling down in front of him and slowly began to wipe away the blood on his face.

“Sorry if this hurts Sam but I need to clean all the blood off to see what I’m dealing with here” she said.

Sam winced under her touch, jerking his face back away from her and grabbed her wrist in his hand. He let out a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head once as his grip loosened.

Tamara pulled her lip between her teeth and ghosted her fingertips over his jaw lightly, trying her best to calm him before bringing the towel back to the cut on his face.

“I told you I’m fine, T,” he rasped, dropping his hand slowly from hers.

“Okay Captain America, I believe you,” she teased, wiping the wet cloth gently across his forehead, “but my friend Sam, him I don’t believe.”

He lets out a stuttered sigh, his impatience mixing with the pain he's so clearly in but stubbornness was and still is Sam Wilson's biggest personality trait.

"Just let me help you, Sam," Tamara pleads with him. Her eyes searching his struggling chocolate brown ones and resisting the butterflies going crazy in her belly at his soft gaze focused– barely, on her.

It was a few beats before all the fight left him, his body sagging into the couch with a resigned sigh and his face leaning into her hand more as resumed wiping his cuts carefully.

Tamara couldn’t help the winces that pulled across her face each time Sam hissed in pain. She tried to be as gentle as she could but some of the blood had already dried onto his bruised skin.

“Oh Sam,” she breathed sadly, as she finished wiping his face.

She leaned back a little and surveyed the rest of his body, tears welling in her eyes when her gaze met the wet stains on his shirt.

“Let me take a look at your side?”

A terrible, strangled hiss left his lips as he shifted and allowed her to pull at the hem of his sweater. She moved as slow as she could, trying to be gentle with him as her fingers kneaded across his tense abdomen.

"Shit," she scowled. The fabric of his sweater had fused to the gnarly rigid ripped flesh along his side. "This is going to suck."

He nodded, letting his head fall back against the couch. "I'm sorry T," his breath hitched as she untangled the fibers from his skin. "One of these times I'll be on this couch for a good reason," he trailed off with a strangled groan. "I mean, that" he fumbled his words. "That came out wrong."

"Let's start slow," she laughed, heat tickling up her neck. "Maybe work towards sitting on the couch when you aren't bleeding out."

He huffed a laugh as best he could before another wince passed across his features. "That's probably a good place to start."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes and she knew it. Tamara tugged gently on his sweater as soon as she got it away from the gash and pushed it further up his torso. Her eyes roamed over his body, checking for anything else that could be bleeding but only finding splotches of purple that darkened his skin. "Jesus Sammy," Tamara breathed.

"It's not as bad as it looks." He countered almost immediately and too fast for her to truly believe him.

Tamara shot him a glare he couldn't see with his eyes still closed, but carefully poked her finger against one of the darker bruises on his chest. Sam yelped, his eyes flew open as he glared right back at her. "What the hell was that for?"

"Quit being Cap for a minute," She said firmly but she could hear the plead in her voice, "you don't have to act with me, you can be hurt and in pain I won't hold that against you." Tamara paused as she wrung out the towel to start cleaning his side, "Just.." She let out a dejected sigh, "don't hide from me? Especially when you're hurt like this."

Sam let out a breath that he didn't even know he'd been holding. As Tamara touched the towel to his side he flinched, letting out a groan.

Tamara looked up into his face, "Just breathe" she murmured, stroking the fabric gently against his skin. She hadn't realized how close she had leaned towards him, their faces just inches apart as he gazed down at her.

His deep brown eyes locked on to hers, she could see the moment the last bit of his Captain America shield came down. What was left was exhaustion and pain. Her heart broke seeing him like this. Shaking her head she tried to focus again on cleaning the cut on his side.

“Why… why didn’t you go see one of your doctor friends before coming back home Sam. I’m sure you know plenty of people who are qualified to take on this kind of thing. Why did you come back home instead” she said, shaking her head, surely there must be doctors who are able to help and provided by the Avengers and government.

"I.. I was tired. I just wanted to come home," he whispered after a few moments of silence.

Her heart ached for Sam. He was a good guy. The best really, and he gave his time and energy to saving the world they live in every day. Not once did he hesitate to put his life on the line so others could live better.

She didn't want him out there, and when he first gave up the shield she barely kept in her sigh of relief when she heard the news from his sister. Just because selfishly she wanted him here. Safe. Home after so long without him.

So when he claimed it back, she knew deep down that it belonged to him all along, there was no one better to carry that legacy on their shoulders than Sam Wilson.

And so she resigned herself to sitting here every night he's out there, just to watch him come back safe and in one piece, but she had yet to see Sam this broken and tired.

"I'll take care of you," Tamara promised. Wanting to explain that she meant those words beyond this night. Beyond taking care of his injuries but she held back.

“You always have, T,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed as she continued to clean his side.

Once clean, the gash wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought. It wouldn’t need stitching.

“I’m just going to go get the first aid kit. Don’t move,” she told him, tapping him gently on the thigh.

“Don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” Sam chuckled, opening one eye to glance at her.

Tamara left him for only a moment to retrieve her first aid kit from the bathroom. She fumbled around inside it and managed to find some steri-strips that she carefully began applying to the cut on his side.

"How's that?" She asked him as the rubbed her thumb over the last one.

"You got that magic touch T, I think I could go another ten rounds."

"That's not funny," she scowled, the thought of him going back out there and fighting gave her a sick feeling that licked at her spine and make her jaw clench together. "You need sleep, like three days worth and maybe a career change."

"I can't just stop being Captain America," he guffed. "Look what happened to the world without him the first time."

"Look what happened to you," she chewed on her lip. "I'm not sure the world realizes that you're just a man, Sam. You aren't indestructible, you-"

"I don't need the world aware of who I am when I'm not protecting them," he shifted under her touch as she helped him pull the sweater back on. "You know exactly who I am."

Tamara shook her head, "I know that if you don't slow down, you won't--" she stopped herself, her eyes flicking to his as the weight of the words she couldn't bring herself to say sat heavily in her throat. Instead, she cleaned up the mess from the bandages and moved to stand, but his hand caught her wrist. Sam's thumb brushed the inside of her palm, stopping her.

"I won't what?" he asked softly.

She closed her eyes as he tugged her gently down to the couch.

"Talk to me, T" Sam urged.

"If you don't slow down, you won't come home." Tamara forced the words out, her voice cracking with the last word and unable to meet his eyes, "and I don't know if I could handle that."

Sam reached forward and hooked his finger under her chin, raising her face. Tamara kept her eyes down, refusing to look at him.

"Tamara", he sighed, "I don't have a choice".

"I know deep down that that's the truth but it's hard to accept and it would break me if anything ever happened to you," the emotion making her voice tremble.

“You’ve been a part of my life for so long Sam,” she continued, pulling her chin out of his grip. “You can’t tell me that you’re OK with all of it.”

“T, you gotta stop worrying about me. I’m fi-“

“If you finish that sentence the way I think you’re gonna then you can get the hell off my couch Samuel Wilson! You’ve never lied to me before so don’t start now.”

Sam stared at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise at her outburst before his gaze softened and he sighed in defeat.

His hand slipped into hers, warm and calloused she felt him squeeze it gently. The confession sat heavy on her chest, but it bloomed a warmth within her that settled her nerves. She had danced around her feelings for him for the longest time. Shamelessly flirting back and forth, late night phone calls when he was away and spending most of their time together when he was home but as the warmth of his hand spread through her, a part of her wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in him.

"I feel safe with you too." She said softly, finally forcing her eyes to meet his.

"As your resident Cap, I would hope you do." He smirked.

"Okay smart arse," she sighed, trying to lighten the mood following her confession. "Have you eaten? Had anything to drink?" starting to get to her feet.

Sam pulled her down again so that she landed closer to him. "We're trying to have a moment here"

“Careful!” Tamara admonished, resisting the urge to slap out at his arm. “You’re injured, remember.”

“I feel better just being around you,” he teased with the flirty grin she’d watched him turn on so many other girls before.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look? There’s no look. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled low in his throat but Tamara still saw the flash of pain he tried to hide when he turned his face away.

“Where else?” She asked.

“I’m fi-“

“Where. Else?” She quietly demanded.

Sam sighed in resignation.

“Left thigh.”

"Sam," she groaned sliding off of the couch so quickly that he couldn't stop her even if he had tried. Her eyes scanned his jeans, until she spotted the dark spot that looked like dried blood. Tamara glared up at him, "pants. Off."

Sam let out a chuckle, leaning back into the couch. "If I knew it was that easy I would have come over here bleeding more often."

"That's not funny!" She shrieked smacking his calf, "I'm serious Sam, your jeans are already too tight and that blood is dried."

"T," He said softly leaning forward, "I'm okay."

"No you aren't and you keep hiding it." She stood, grabbing the first aid kit once more and shifted back, "just, please let me help."

"Get a wriggle on," Tamara instructed, indicating to his jeans, "see if they'll come off".

Sam made a move to half stand and unfasten his button but as soon as his legs took his weight he groaned, quickly sitting again.

"Oh yes, totally fine Sam," she quipped sarcastically. "Let me help you." Tamara stood quickly and moved to take Sam's hand. She pulled him up gently and held him so he could unfasten his trousers. He winced as he tried to tug them down his legs but stopped when he realised it was a bad idea. "Too late, I think this is really going to hurt."

"Looks like we need to get drastic," Tamara winked. "Let's get you upstairs and get you wet."

“Should be my line,” he huffed out a laugh.

“God, would you just stop?” She groaned in mock annoyance but a flight of butterflies chose that moment to make their presence known in her belly.

With some manoeuvring, Tamara managed to get her arm around Sam in such a way that she could help him climb the stairs without too much difficulty. They made it to the bathroom and Tamara leaned Sam against the counter whilst she turned on the shower and set the water to a comfortable temperature.

“OK Cap, in you get. Need you to get those jeans soaked,” she said, tipping her head towards to shower.

He listened without argument for once, climbing into the running water with a few mumbles of pain before he slumped against the wall and angled himself so she could help him pull the jeans down.

"This was a ploy wasn't it!" He laughed as she rolled them down over his thighs.

"There are easier ways to get men naked in the shower," She rolled her eyes.

"Oh yeah?" He waggled his brows again but as she glanced up at him in the light, she could see the exhaustion written all over his face.

"Preferably not covered in blood and bruises for one," She remarked, helping to lift his foot and slid the soaked denim over his feet.

Sam huffed out another laugh as they switched to his bad leg, his face scrunched in pain for a brief moment until she was able to toss the jeans aside. "I thought that's what you preferred? Big strong men covered in blood, claiming their women-"

"Like cavemen?" She grinned.

"No like those romance novels you try to hide from me." His shit-eating grin spread over his lips as she gawked up at him.

"I don't hide anything from you," she protested, turning a light shade of blush.

"Just like you've never hidden your feelings about me," Sam retorted, "We could have been starring in our very own series of Bridgerton all this time," referring to the show that Tamara had been besotted with, binge watching it the previous weekend, with a smirk.

“Yeah, alright Lord Wilson, whatever you say,” she retorted with a scoff, trying to deflect the comment that was far too close to the truth.

“Lord Wilson, I kinda like it.”

“Look, titles aren’t Pokémon you know, you don’t have to collect ‘em all. Besides, if you’re Lord Wilson then we’re gonna need a chaperone.”

Sam tilted his head as he looked at her, an eyebrow raised with amusement.

“Yeah, I mean, an unattached maid such as myself shouldn’t be alone in a bathroom with a *Captain*! I should get your sister to come and sit with us…”

Tamara started to turn away, as if she really was going to fetch the indomitable Sarah Wilson to chaperone. A hand on her wrist stopped her in her tracks and the smile on her face faded as Sam pulled her closer towards him.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t leave.”

"Okay, hey," she smiled, "I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded, a shaky tense nod but it was confirmation that his mind was still strong even after the fight had broken his body.

"Feels like lately that's all people do," he hummed.

"Not me," she smiled at him, cupping his face with her head. "Not us."

His eyes met hers, flicking between them as if a million thoughts were racing through his mind. "Tamara," he sighed her name, leaning into her touch.

"It's okay," she nodded, "you don't have to be strong for me." Her voice was so soft, she barely heard herself over the sound of the water.

Sam lifted his hand, running his fingers along her hairline and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The swarm of butterflies returned to her chest as his free hand skimmed her waist, bunching up her t-shirt until the warmth of his faint touch brushed her skin. They'd had close moments before, but not like this. Those moments weren't filled with their unsaid feelings swirling around them like fall leaves on a windy day.

Sam tugged Tamara towards him, into the cascading water.

"Sam!" she shrieked as he held her close, drenching her to the bone. "There was no need to get me wet!"

"Fair's fair T," Sam chuckled, "Let me help you out of those wet clothes." He started to unbutton her shirt.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” She squealed, batting his hands away before shoving her now-soaking hair out of her eyes.

“This has never been us! Did you hit your head or something?”

“Or something,” he murmured, the smile never leaving his face as he reached for her once more.

Instead of pulling her towards him his hands rested gently at her waist, thumbs tracing circles at the edge of her wet shirt.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked refraining from melting into his body despite the heat from the water.

"Like what?" He asked feigning innocence.

"Like you want to kiss me." Tamara said softly, ignoring the blush slowly creeping up her neck.

His fingers dug into her waist, firmly but still gentle as he dipped his head brushing his lips over her cheek, "maybe because I do." He rasped.

Tamara's hands found his chest again and her breath caught into her throat, "Sam," she breathed.

"Is that okay?" he asked, trailing his nose along her skin, nuzzling against her.

Tamara felt her knees go weak. She'd imagined how this might go in her wildest dreams but now Sam was actually making a move....

She clung to Sam's shoulder as his lips found her neck, melting into his embrace.

Sam moved his fingers back to her shirt buttons. "What about this?" he murmured as he started to undo the fastenings.

Tamara shuddered as his knuckle grazed her breast.

"Sam -" she breathed, tracing her hand to the side of his face, moving his gaze to meet hers, "you're hurt," she whispered

Sam hummed, placing his hands on the side of her face as his eyes traced her features, "When I'm with you, nothing can hurt me," he whispered back.

Tamara ran her tongue across her bottom lip as every feeling for Sam Wilson bubbled to the surface. Part of her brain was screaming at her to stop this in it's tracks, he was injured and in no condition to be saying these things to her. Maybe he was concussed and confused. Maybe he thought she was someone else. But her heart was telling her Sam was genuine. They'd always flirted and looked out for each other. Most times Sarah made comments about how they were basically married anyway because of how they looked at one another. There was no better time than the present to jump in feet first and hold him until the world made sense again.

Placing her hand on the back of his neck, she brought his forehead down to meet hers, brushing the tips of their noses together, "Kiss me," she almost moaned quietly.

Without another word, Sam obliged pressing his lips to hers softly at first, relishing in the moment and allowing for the world to fully slow down around them. Every nerve in her body vibrated with the butterflies causing her to step foreward and press her body into his. She needed all of him in that moment. Knowing he was safe and sound, in her arms and her heart, was all she wanted.

He moaned softly into her mouth and, at the first sound, Tamara froze thinking she’d hurt him but he didn’t stop. His lips caressed hers in the way she’d always dreamed about and she leaned into him, giving herself over to sensation.

Her breath hitched as his lips ghosted across her jaw.

“C’mere,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her closer.

Water from the shower cascaded around them as he held her close, his lips fire against her skin. One hand moved back to her chest, skimming over her until deft fingers found the buttons of her shirt and began to flick them open.

His fingers moved with care as he opened each of the buttons of her shirt. Once they were all open Sam slowly pushed her shirt off her shoulders and Tamara shrugged it off, her shirt landing on the shower floor. Sam pulled away to look at her. Tamara felt her cheeks warm as his eyes roamed over her.

“You’re so beautiful” Sam said, his eyes landing back on hers.

She tried to hide from his eyes, they were roaming from her face down to her exposed neck and over her bra-covered breasts. Her nipples were begging for attention and her hands fumbled to cover them before Sam's hands took hold of her, locking them in his beside her and allowing his eyes to devour her.

He leaned against her body, his body straining to not fall completely against Tamara's. His breath was quick and ragged, the words leaving his mouth caressing the skin under her ear in the most delicious way. Something she'd only dreamt about and never thought could happen.

"Don't hide from me, Tamara."

She shivered from the words, the kiss following them on her heated skin making her almost lose balance before he continued in a broken voice.

"You've got no idea how long I've been wanting this. Wanting you."

Tamara let out a soft moan and turned her head to meet his lips, pulling one hand out of his to trail up his side. She was careful to avoid the steri-stripped wound but once she reached the hard planes of his chest she allowed her fingers to wander more determinedly before sliding her hand around the back of his neck.

She drew him closer, deepening their kiss and teasing her tongue across his bottom lip. Sam hummed in appreciation and pulled her even closer, leaning against the tiled wall of the shower to take a little of the weight off his injured thigh. He wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and Tamara ground her hips against him, her body seeking out even more contact.

“T” Sam let out a moan against her lips. “You’re killing me here.”

Tamara pulled out a soft chuckle before leaning over and turning off the shower.

“Why don’t we get you all dry and into something warm so you can rest. The last thing I want is for you to catch a cold on top of everything else.” Tamara said, moving to stand next to Sam and wrapping her arm around his waist to help him out of her shower.

"But–" he exclaimed.

"No buts," she interrupted him sternly.

"You're tired, and your body needs the rest." She left him no room for discussion as she stepped out and left him pouting behind her to get towels for them.

She wrapped one around herself and squeezed her hair with another one before wrapping it into a bun and turned to him with a bathrobe, open and ready for him to slip into.

"Come on," she smiled at him and was glad to see the smile she loved reflected back at her, "I'll still be here when you're feeling better, Sammy."

He pouted so adorably that Tamara let a giggle slip out and it made his brows draw down in a scowl.

“Quit your storming, Captain. You spend most of your time looking after the world, just let me look after you for once.” She raised herself up onto her toes and pressed a sweet kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

He started to smirk, his eyes twinkling, and then a grin began to spread across his face. His shoulders relaxed a little more and, although he limped as he moved closer to her, his steps seemed just that bit lighter than before. Tamara slipped her arm back around his waist to help him.

“Come on hero, follow my lead.”

“Always,” he murmured, and Tamara’s face flushed even more.

They moved together out of her bathroom and into her bedroom. Once they got to her bed Tamara helped Sam sit down on her bed.

“Now you get yourself comfortable, I’m going to go grab my warm blanket from the closet and more pillows” Tamara smiled as Sam leaned against the headboard and moved his legs onto her bed. He already looked a lot more relaxed and less in pain than he did when she found him earlier.

She moved quickly though, not wanting to leave her for more than was necessary. Gathering all she can in her arms, she balanced the pile on her arms with slow steps back to her room.

Tamara heard the unmistakeble squeak of her mattress and she quickly told him off, her voice muffled against the pillows and blanket she's holding.

"Don't you dare move your ass, Cap! I'm strong too you know?"

She dumped the pile on the edge of the bed and was met with a raised brow and a handsome smirk, one of his legs already dangling off the bed and his arms raised in mock surrender. She shook her head at him before grabbing a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers from her bathroom and rushed back to him.

The sight of him, relaxed, on her bed was doing something to her. The feel of his lips still lingering on her own. It felt as though her heart was dancing behind her ribs with how hard it was beating.

He took the pills from her and swallowed them down with a swig of water, grimacing as he did, and then placed the glass on the nightstand. Tamara watched him, the way he moved carefully so as not to hurt himself any more. He settled back against the pillows and patted the space next to him.

“C’mon T. If I’m gonna rest up you gotta get in here with me.”

She hesitated just for a moment before climbing onto the bed beside him but she sat stiffly, uncomfortably, as if she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

Sam lifted his arm and she scooted up into his offered space but he could still feel the tension in her muscles.

“What’s the matter T? It’s not like we ain’t sat like this a million times before.”

“No,” she said quietly, “I guess not.”

“There’s just one difference,” he said, and she turned her head to look at him. “I can do this.”

Hooking his finger under her chin, he tilted her head up and leaned down to kiss her. It was just a gentle brush of his lips against hers but it was everything she needed.

Tamara's body melted into his, her hand rested once more on his chest feeling his heart race under her touch. He slid his hand from under her chin around to the back of her neck, tangling his finger into her hair as the kiss deepened. She wanted this. Wanted to get lost in everything Sam Wilson was when he wasn't Cap and even though kissing him felt like floating, she knew the next time he would have to leave would only be ten times harder now.

She broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his as her eyes stayed closed. "Sam, what are we doing?" She asked softly.

"What we always should have done." He said so confidently she pulled back to look at him.

His words echoed in her head. Could it be that Sam felt the same way about her as she did for him? Was there a chance for them to be more than friends that always looked out for each other? Looking into his eyes she knew that he meant the words he had spoken, but she needed to be sure. Because she didn’t want to risk having her heart broken by the man she has been in love with for as long as she could remember.

“Sam… what are you saying?” She asked hoping his answer would match hers. That he wanted to be hers and much as she longed to be his.

He took a deep breath and did his best to turn her way fully, engulfing her face between his two hands, he lifted her face to his. He was all Tamara could see. She could get lost in his eyes if he let her.

His face was serious, his eyes sure as they bore down into her own.

"I'm saying that I love you, Tamara."

Her breath hitched at that, her mind having a hard time catching with her racing heart. He threw her another brilliant smile, nodding as if to affirm what he knows is going through her mind.

"I've loved you for as long as I could remember. So, so many times I've wanted to tell you how I feel but the timing was never right. Between the avenging and the Snap and being gone and back.. being Cap.."

He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a brief moment before meeting her gaze again. His eyes were red with held back emotions swirling in them and she felt the sting of tears in her own.

"I couldn't risk you being in danger because of me, I thought I was protecting you if I kept my feelings to myself but, all I've done is keep us apart when all I really want.. all I really need, is you. By my side."

Her eyes scanned over his face as the tears that stung her eyes finally welled over.

“God, T, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Sam panicked, swiping his thumbs across her cheeks.

“I’m not crying,” she gulped out a laugh, “I mean, I am but not because I’m sad.”

His hands continued to frame her face as he watched her intently.

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that to me.”

"What?" He asked leaning back a bit, but his grip on her never faltered.

She sucked in a breath, letting it out in an almost choked laugh, "I love you too Sam. I always have."

He stared at her for a moment before a beautiful smile spread across his face. "You do?"

"How could I not?" she asked, shaking her head. "You are the other half of me" she admitted softly. "No one has ever made me feel the way I feel when I'm with you."

Sam looked at her, unable to believe that he'd been worried that Tamara had parked him in the friend zone. "Tell me how I make you feel," Gently capturing her lips again with his.

Tamara sighed into the kiss and smiled as she pulled away. How could she possibly put into words how Sam made her feel.

“You make me feel safe Sam, you always long before Cap and Falcon. You’ve made me feel safe since we were kids. You make me feel at home. You understand me better than anyone else in my life. You show you care with the little things, like checking up on me when you are away or that one time you brought me soup when I had that really bad cold. Letting me crash at your place when there was that snow storm and the power was out at my place. Or when you remember the smallest of details about the things I like. You make me feel seen, Sam.” Tamara said, taking hold of his hand in hers and linking her fingers between his.

“You always have,” she added.

“Tamara,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “T, this ain’t gonna be easy. I’ll be called away in the middle of the night, I’ll come back looking like this…” he chuckled drily.

“But you’ll come back,” she said with a sweet determination.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he nodded.

“And I’ll be right here waiting,” she reassured him.

“You know,” he sighed, ghosting a kiss across her lips, “whenever the job gets too much I think about home, about Delacroix, and about you. That one thing that keeps me going? It’s you, T. It’s always been you.”

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

Note

Tw domestic abuse, sexual assault, suicide, self harm and eating disorder mentions (those last two not in detail, just mentioned)

Nickname: turquoise

Looking for advice, either on how to get out or just come to terms with this being the rest of my life, either way.

So I have a situation kind of similar to this ask posted just now.

https://www.tumblr.com/traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors/712807834009665536/tw-romantic-partner-violence-hey-so-ive-known

I've been with my wife for seven years now. A lot of her issues come from childhood trauma, but it's just...been wearing me down lately. Nearly from the start there were emotional issues between us, and physical violence and one sexual assault within the first six months (she said I agreed to let her do stuff while I was asleep but I don't remember that, and either way she didn't stop when I asked her to). I'm honestly not sure why I stayed but that's neither here nor there. Maybe I kept thinking it would get better but it didn't and at a lot of points I was genuinely scared for my safety, especially since the one time I did try to leave she found me in under a day and the friend I'd run away to decided I should go back home with her since, in her words 'well, you are kind of a bitch'. Anyway, there would be times when things got better but they'd always get bad again. We're in one of the better periods, though recently there's still been a lot of emotional stuff, some minor physical stuff (only small bruises and no lingering pain) and two sexual assaults last week. Still, things have definitely tapered off from a couple years ago, and she has been putting in more effort to be nicer, so if nothing else it's been a while since I've been balled up on the floor trying to be a small target so that's something. Still, as much as I should be happy about that I just...honestly I feel like shit a lot of the time, and I can't seem to stop being on edge no matter what happens, even though she gets mad at me whenever she notices that.

Also over the past two years she's developed significant anxiety, to the point where even after being on meds and in therapy for over a year she says she can't work.. We have no income now and I have a lot of my own mental difficulties that have made jobs difficult for me for most of my life (not self dxing, but likely autism and ADHD and a PD that have never been treated, along with a lot of past trauma from her and people before her, that's she's sometimes triggered on purpose or been dismissive of, though she is trying to stop that), but more difficult since I met her, especially since I've spent the past year at least in one of the worst depressive episodes I've had in my life, with my self harm and eating disorder getting worse again (both of which she knows about and does not respond well to at all), to the point that I'm pretty much always passively suicidal and have attempted a few times. At the very least I'm out of the bout of drinking I dealt with for a few months. I'm not outlining this to make anyone feel bad for me, just to point out that a full time work week, especially in the kinds of fast paced, people centric jobs I could reasonably get, would be very difficult for me to handle at this point. I've asked her if we could both work part time, since I thought a few days a week for each of us would be easier to handle, and at first she said yes but now she's flat out refusing, saying that since she supported us for a while she deserves a long break too, completely glossing over how often she hit me during that time and how generally shit she made me feel every day, or the fact that the abuse didn't stop when I went back to work, or that the circumstances that led to it being best for only her to work in that time were out of our control.

Basically, I want to leave. Ideally I'd just leave her, but she says she can't survive without my support, and that she'll kill herself if I actually go. I don't know if that's true or not but I don't want to find out the hard way, but I also know I can't handle both working full time and taking care of her full time (she refuses to do anything at home or to manage and organize our lives either, sometimes to the point of yanking me out of bed after only a few hours of sleep to make her food even though she is able to cook, arguably better than me).

Im basically never happy, and I want to leave but I can't, not with the way she is mentally now, not with what she might do, especially since the only person I know she could go to is her mother, who wouldn't be accepting of her being trans which isn't something I want to put her through. I've been thinking of asking a friend or relative of mine (what few I have left after she isolated me for so long, since I can't drive and for years she's been in charge of if I leave the house or not, which she rarely lets me do), to let me stay with them during the work week, since it would be easier to find and keep a job that way. I'd have limited contact with my wife, only seeing her on the weekends and preferably not talking much during the week, but still with me supporting both of us.

I don't know if she'd go for this, or even how to ask, but I know I can't handle dealing with both work and her and my own issues at the same time. I've tried to say this a bit and she's said I'm just being whiny and lazy, so I just don't know what to do or how to fully broach the subject, but I'm just so scared for the future between us in general.

I'm sorry this was a long post my thoughts are just not organized sometimes. Thank you for everything you do.

Amendment from turquoise. Abuse mention.

I just really wanted to clarify that I don't want anything I said about my wife to be attributed to the fact that she's trans. I don't think any of the mods of this blog would do that, but I just worry that others would, or that it came across as me saying her abuse and her gender are somehow connected but I swear I don't think they are and if anything came across that way I never meant for it to. I know most trans people don't hurt others (not to mention I'm trans myself but that just didn't seem relevant, still not sure if it is here)

Basically I just hope I didn't paint an entire group in a bad light and I really didn't mean to if I did sorry I was just worried about that.

Hi turquoise,

I'm so sorry about what's been going on. Also, I wouldn't worry about potentially coming off as transphobic, I don't get that vibe at all and I see what you mean to say quite clearly.

Just because the abuse has been tapering off doesn't mean you should tolerate it. Being assaulted violates your boundaries, and it's important to respect and assert them. Just because it's tapering off doesn't mean you're supposed to be happy in this relationship. It makes absolute sense why you still feel like shit. You're on edge because you may have developed trauma responses and you're around someone who your brain has been conditioned to perceive as a threat.

Emotional availability is essential for the longevity of a relationship. For your partner to not be there for you or respond well to depressive episodes or even suicidal thoughts is definitely a problem. I feel like if she truly cared about you she would make a better effort to be there for you, especially when you're contemplating suicide.

It sounds like your partner is refusing to share the responsibility of any productive or reproductive labor, which puts unnecessary stress on you. Just because she's been working doesn't mean you have to do everything. Most people just continue working without breaks, you know? So how is it fair for her to refuse to work when that means no income? It would make more sense if she was overwhelmed with burdens, but she really has pushed virtually every responsibility of hers onto you and is expecting you to be absolutely fine with that.

It seems like you've tried communicating with her but she's given you a hard time. If it is safe to do so, it may be helpful to simply assert a boundary such as "I feel x when you do y. If you continue to treat me this way, this isn't going to work." Just letting her know where things stand may be helpful in terms of communication, but if this would be unsafe to do, then it may be best to simply leave without warning.

Like I said in the other ask, if she is going to choose to mistreat you then it is your right to leave if necessary. It's a hard decision though of course, because you don't want her to go back to her abusers, but really, that's not your problem. If you need to leave then you need to leave, where she goes is not really for you to worry about. It's important to assert your boundaries and put your foot down when you've had enough, even if it doesn't benefit everyone.

Abusers often block the exit in various ways, and that can include threatening suicide. Please know that it is manipulative for someone to blame suicide or self harm on someone else. It is your right to leave when you want or need to. Your partner's actions are her responsibility alone. Breaking up does not hold you liable to what your partner chooses to do as a result.

If anyone else has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw sa #tw r #tw emotional abuse #tw self harm #tw sui #turquoise #trauma details

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liltaz-asatreat · 2 years

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5, 6, 7, and 10 for Meadow? :D

OC question list here!! <- send some in? :D

So this got really long because I never know when to shut up, so I'm putting this under a readmore lol

(Also, I explained some stuff in detail that I've already told you for the benefit of anyone else who might read this lol)

5. What are their regrets?

There's a lot of things Meadow regrets on a daily basis lol But there are quite a few long lasting big ones. Like the obvious enacting the Relic plan, not listening to Lucretia, and not being able to save Phandalin. Then there's two things he regrets from childhood: not running away from home sooner and simultaneously leaving his then six year old cousin whom he was pretty close to. He also regrets spending so much time fighting with himself during the decade post voidfishing and the fact that he was only able to get very little done and caused himself a lot more stress and heartache than was strictly necessary. And the fact that he can't just turn off his brain and go to sleep to escape his thoughts like other people can unless one of his bodies dies. And there's two things that happen during the fic that he comes to regret doing and/or not doing, but those are spoilers >:)

And then the two really big ones is the defining backstory moment of coming across the Word Weaver's Amulet (the Grand Relic they made) and giving it to Astra, their then best friend who I still haven't decided if they're just best friends or if there were romantic feelings involved. Every time I think I've decided on one, I end up changing my mind again, but regardless, they were really close. And Astra said she thought it was beautiful and really wanted it, and when they both came across it, they had been going on a walk to try and cheer Astra up and get her to clear her head because she was having a really bad day, so Meadow, famously unable to say no to anything even though they had the gut feeling that something bad was going to happen, gave it to her. The fallout of how she used the Relic and what exactly transpired is a spoiler, but she definitely dies which is how Meadow ended up with it again, and they've regretted everything ever since.

The second big one is, because during the Stolen Century, they were able to save Meadow's body from the Plane of Logic from the Hunger, and both of his bodies were on the ship for the rest of the century and until Lucretia dropped his Logic Body off in the Faerun's reality's Plane of Logic, Meadow was always up in one body or the other, by nature of that's just how he works, so he was awake when Lup was about to leave the Starblaster for the final time before she disappeared. He saw her before she left, and they had a short conversation where Meadow knew something was wrong, and he thought he helped her to feel better, which in all fairness, he did a little, but Lup still wanted to have some alone time and clear her head down on the planet and then everything that happened afterward happened. So Meadow regrets not stopping her from leaving or at least not going down to the surface with her.

And tbh, because of Meadow being awake 24/7, they had taken it upon themself/was designated to be the person on watch at night throughout the century after both of their bodies were on the ship because all of the others needed sleep and didn't have a fancy shmancy second body to be awake in after going to bed. So because they were up and because they had talked to Lup before she left, Taako mostly, but Barry too to an extent, kind of blamed them for her disappearance. Barry would never say it out loud, but I feel like Taako might have snapped at them once about it, but like, Meadow knew. At that point, they had known them for long enough that they could tell for sure it wasn't just their brain being mean and jumping to conclusions, they were acting a little hostile toward them toward the end there.

6. What are their biggest fears?

Everything lol They're a big ball of anxiety and stress-

No. Well, they are a big ball of anxiety and stress and are a very fearful person, but they aren't afraid of everything.

They are, ironically, very afraid of heights lol The only reason they agreed to go on the Starblaster mission was because they couldn't pass up the opportunity to go to space and explore the space between the planes and do all of that cool stuff. As soon as the opportunity came up, that was basically all they wanted to do and the thing they wanted to get most out of life because they love the stars and space and exploring and everything about it! And how they figured they could get around the height issue was that they could just stay away from the railing and stay toward the center of the ship, and maybe if there wasn't a ground or a metric in which to gauge how high up he'd be, he would be fine.

I think during the century he learned how to push past it mostly out of necessity, but by the time they made it to Faerun, and Material Meadow lost his memories, his issue with heights hit him full force again tenfold, and he has to fight to remain calm while traveling in the cannonball spheres and looking down from the moon base and all that lol

Then, of course, he has a normally paralyzing fear of failure that he has to push through to get literally anything done in the story and honestly, during the century.

And then they never had a good working memory before the voidfishing, so they already hated the idea of losing any more memories. The voidfishing exasperated that into a full blown near phobia of losing memories, especially really important ones.

And then there's the fear of losing everyone and everything permanently and the fear that everyone is going to leave him, especially for reasons they refuse to tell him, so he wouldn't understand why they decided to leave him in the first place.

And then there's the double related fears: Falling asleep while they're in danger because someone decided to wake them up on the other side, especially if they refuse to let them go back to sleep, and someone finding out about them having a double and attacking him or leaving him or ostracizing him because they either don't believe him, refuse to take it seriously, or outright hate him for it

7. How do they cope with stress?

LOL

List making! Mental breakdowns! But mostly they write. Poetry for the most part is their form of journaling, but sometimes they just write out their thoughts too. If they have an idea for a short story, they'll work on that too as usually a more maintenance kind of thing and not something they'd do in the moment of feeling very overwhelmed, and they never really have the time to try and write a whole novel or something. At least, for the most part they didn't. There was that short period of time during the decade where they were at the writing guild Lucretia sent them to in the Material Plane, the Ink Spill Guild, where they had the time to work on a novel because they were ignoring the instructions they were leaving for themself that they made when they actually remembered everything. And they might have been working on a novel, idk. Sounds fun and very much something I would do lol But after that, Meadow spent most of their time adventuring, and then when they got up to the moon base, trying to figure out where the second voidfish was and what the plan was going to be then now that they found Lucretia.

As for when they're in the Plane of Logic though, they didn't give themself as much time to write because they were struggling so hard to get their spaceship built and off the ground, both in the physical aspect of actually researching it and doing it and also fighting the paralysis they usually get when they get super stressed and scared/anxious about something. And the whole possibly being the only one of their family who remembers anything besides Lucretia, but only when they're on a plane where they can't really do much about it, and that means they might be the only person with a chance of stopping Lucretia from destroying the Material Plane and putting their family back together thing is kind of really stressful lol

To compensate for that, Meadow throws himself full force into building the spaceship when he's particularly stressed because it's something to do with his hands and is something that is supposed to get him closer to reaching his goal. Sometimes if they're stuck on how to do something to actually continue building onto the ship but can't focus on reading and researching or even thinking really hard, they take apart and put back together some other component that doesn't really need fixing.

He also sometimes lets Sparrow and their friends forcibly drag him away to hang out with them, and that makes him feel better and less alone. Also eventually talking to Barry helps even if when he does it, he doesn't remember their shared history, and Barry can't tell him anything about it yet, and also hanging out with Merle, Magnus, and Taako.

Back on the Starblaster, Taako and Lup also brought them into learning how to bake :>

And then when things are really shitty, sometimes they dissociate and just check out completely. On top of that, sometimes it'll happen as they are in an immediate stressful situation, especially if they're trying to talk to someone, much to their extreme annoyance because it's really hard to fight it off and come back to reality. They very rarely ever succeed at it.

10. Who is someone they miss?

Astra and Lup definitely, and Lucretia and Davenport and all of them. Even when he joins the Bureau and sees most of them again, he misses how their relationships with each other used to be and the fact that none of them, including him while he's actually physically there with them remember except for Barry and Lucretia. It's this weird feeling of simultaneously being super happy to see them while also still feeling very far away and disconnected when he's awake in the Plane of Logic because he's no longer there and he remembers Davenport being able to talk and Lucretia not holding them all at arm's length and lying to them all the time and being able to hug Barry and Lup being there and the other boys sharing almost everything and all of them being a family. He's able to enjoy being in their presence more, for the most part, while he's there and with them because he doesn't remember the history, but that just makes him miss them more when he wakes up and does remember.

They also really miss Fisher, and while they hang out with it and Johann sometimes, it's still not the same. Both because of the memory thing and also because, while it's Lucretia's fault for erasing everyone's memories, Fisher still had the power to do that, and it didn't broadcast it out after realizing no one could remember and that everyone was gone. So there's also a certain level of wariness and fear I think

And then they do miss their parents to an extent. I mean, they're their parents. And there were good times with them while they were growing up. And they also really miss their cousin that they were close to.

Also, even though Meadow is a self insert and I have siblings, I decided against giving Meadow siblings because, well, not only does Meadow run away from home and leave everyone behind when he's 14, but like, the Hunger and the end of the world happened, and it felt really gross and wrong to be like, yeah! Meadow is me and also all of his siblings died tragically during the apocalypse. I just can't do that. But! I needed a child relative substitute that Meadow would have been close to because an event that happens about them is the catalyst of Meadow finally deciding to run away. I felt like having them be a cousin was enough degree of separation for me to be more comfortable with especially since the event is probably only going to be referenced in a passing one sentence comment, if that, during the Chalice scene. So that's why the cousin exists

#thank you for sending this in; Sunny! :D #and also just a little extra ramble about a personal thing I guess:#the conceit of any of this story happening and Meadow leading the life that they do and did is basically; what if I had actually chosen to #run away at 14; and not only that; but succeed and *live*?#and also; of course; this was the world of taz balance; and the whole double thing #I like where I am now in life mostly; but tbh #that one moment I almost did it; that's my biggest what if #I don't regret not doing it because of where I am today; but like; sometimes I wonder how different my life would have been #ask game #double troubles

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littlespoonevan · 2 years

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Congrats on 7k followers, holy shit. I trust you with any of the letter prompts, but if I had to pick, T. I'm super curious what you'll come up with. =)

aklsdjh alright, friend, you prompted "obscure au" and my mind went to a million different places, none of which i really vibed with. and then, last night, right as i was on the edge of sleep, my mind concocted an idea from fandom days of old:

professional cuddler evan buckley/touch-starved ball of repression eddie diaz

so this is...certainly a thing aksjdhf but also i'm lowkey obsessed with this concept now and i don't wanna let it go so if you could all please let me know if you would read a 5k-10k continuation of this fic, that would be great lmao

Eddie Diaz is a lot of things.

He’s war veteran, he’s a firefighter, he’s an (ex)husband, he’s a father.

What he is not, is good at asking for help.

Moving to LA had been an initially impulsive but still carefully constructed plan to snatch back his agency and his role as a father after feeling smothered for so long under his parents’ roof. In truth, he wouldn’t have had any problem becoming a firefighter in Texas but there was a special kind of vindication – a childlike ‘haha you can’t catch me!’ – that came with telling his parents he was moving to California.

And as proud as he is of himself for finally standing up for something he wants, moving to LA has been hard.

Not least of all because he’s got about a vault’s worth of unresolved trauma from his time in the army.

The combination of recently moving house, finally truly living as a single parent – who hasn’t managed to set up proper childcare yet – and beginning a new job as a firefighter has meant the walls he’s so steadfastly built up around himself to hold himself together since he first came home are starting to crumble.

And of course, because the universe absolutely hates Eddie, all of this stress and anxiety has decided to take the form of insomnia.

Possibly the worst symptom a single father who works 24 hour shifts could experience.

Which is why he’s one hundred percent going to blame his sleep-deprived brain for what he chooses to do.

It’s past 3am and Eddie is scrolling mindlessly on his phone when he first stumbles across the ad.

Some people, when they go online shopping at night, buy things they don’t need. Like a Fitbit or a novelty t-shirt.

Eddie…

Eddie buys a professional cuddler.

It’s the stupidest fucking thing he’s ever done but he’s so tired and he’d give anything to just get one full night’s sleep and the ad boasts about how prolonged and consistent hugs can help reduce stress and improve your heart health and before he knows it he’s filling out an application form.

He forgets about it by the time he does manage to finally drop off to sleep for a few hours before his alarm goes off but he’s helpfully reminded the next morning when he receives an email from an Evan Buckley who introduces himself as his prospective cuddle…associate? The email comes with a more detailed explanation of how the process works as well as a list of available time slots Eddie can choose from. Lastly, there’s an attached consent form detailing what is probably the opposite of whatever the hell one puts in a BDSM contract.

And the thing is, it’s stupid.

It was an impulsive decision his exhausted brain found in the middle of the night and he should absolutely just delete the email and pretend it never happened.

He doesn’t delete the email.

It’s a Tuesday morning just after he’s come off a 24-hour shift, Christopher is in school, the house is empty and Eddie feels like he’s about to crawl right out of his own skin when the doorbell rings.

Steeling himself, he takes a breath and opens the door to- well.

A stupidly gorgeous man.

The man – Evan Buckley, professional cuddler, he presumes – offers him a smile that rivals the brightness of the sun shining behind him and sticking out a hand.

“Hey,” he greets warmly. “Eddie, right? I’m Buck.”

Eddie stares, dumbfounded, for a beat before his brain catches up with itself and he hastens to shake his hand. “Yeah, sorry. Hi, I’m Eddie. You uh- you can come in.” He lets go of Buck’s hand – it’s warm, just like his smile – and moves back, opening the door wider to let him through.

Buck steps inside, looking around curiously, and Eddie feels self-conscious about the still-bare walls. His priority had been decorating Christopher’s room first and making sure he had everything he needed. Getting a couch and a dining table had been next on the list. The rest of the décor can wait until Eddie’s next pay check. Or next ten pay checks.

When he realises Buck isn’t making a move to go anywhere he scratches the back of his neck, looking helplessly between his bedroom door and the living room. “I uh, I know I signed the form and everything but I’m not really sure how this is supposed to work-?”

Buck’s expression brightens again. “Oh! Well, it really depends on the person. Some people prefer being in bed, particularly if they’re trying to fall asleep. But that feels too personal for some people so they tend to go for a couch or an armchair or something. It’s all about what you’re comfortable with.”

Eddie nods. He has no idea what he’s comfortable with. He still hasn’t quite reconciled that he’s agreed to pay this man to cuddle him, for fuck’s sake.

Buck seems to realise his indecision and his smile is kind in a way that makes Eddie want to duck his head in embarrassment. “You mentioned in your application form that you’re having trouble sleeping. Is it- is that what you’d like help with?”

“I guess,” he replies but he doesn’t sound sure even to his own ears. “I- I just came off a 24 hour shift so I was hoping to catch some sleep before I pick my son up from school later.”

Buck seems to take all of that information in his stride, nodding easily. “Cool. Well, in that case we could go to your bedroom if you’re comfortable? I can’t guarantee you’ll fall asleep first try but even just having your body at rest for a while can help you feel more recharged.”

And, because Eddie is clearly losing it, he nods and leads this veritable stranger to his room.

The actual getting-on-the-bed part is surprisingly okay.

Buck is dressed for the occasion, in soft sweatpants and an even softer looking pale blue hoodie, and he lets Eddie take the lead in selecting his side of the bed. However once they’re side by side Eddie feels himself clam up.

“What do you- what happens now?”

Buck eyes him speculatively for a moment and then simply asks, “Big spoon or little spoon?”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“Big spoon or little spoon?” he repeats, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Once you figure out which you prefer the rest is pretty straightforward.”

Eddie feels himself flush, looking away as he thinks it over. It takes a good thirty seconds to remind himself that he’s paying for this and Buck probably already thinks he’s pathetic for having to hire someone to cuddle him instead of finding someone to be with the normal way, so he only feels a little embarrassed when he finally admits, “Little spoon.”

Buck grins and reaches for him and it’s possibly the most bizarre situation Eddie’s ever been in but he just- lets Buck rearrange them until they’re both lying on their sides. Buck presses right up behind him, pulling the covers up around them and wrapping a secure arm around Eddie’s waist.

Eddie holds himself perfectly still throughout it all, hesitantly settling his arm over Buck’s when he finally stops moving.

He counts five breaths before he has to break the silence, mouth dry. “What happens now?”

Buck hums and Eddie can feel the vibration of it where Buck’s chest touches his back. “Some people like to talk; others just like to lie in silence.”

Eddie contemplates it. He’s never been the most talkative person but he also can’t quite imagine lying here in silence for the next forty-five minutes of their session.

“So. Is this like, your full-time gig?” he asks before immediately cringing. That’s probably against some rule to ask.

Buck just snorts quietly. “Part-time,” he says. “I’m actually putting myself through the Fire Academy right now. I need some extra cash to help with rent until I certify.”

Eddie feels the ridiculous urge to laugh but it thankfully morphs into a yawn at the last minute. “I’m a firefighter,” he says and Buck does laugh.

“No fucking way?”

“Mm,” he hums. “Certified about a month ago. That’s why I moved here; new job.”

“People who suffer from insomnia can find the symptoms worsen under periods of stress or change,” Buck says, gently probing, and Eddie gets the vague feeling like he just sat down with a therapist.

“Yeah it’s-“ he starts, closing his eyes and releasing a tired sigh. “I really love it but it’s been a lot, with the move and everything.”

Buck nods, chin bumping Eddie’s shoulder, as his hand rubs small circles almost absent-mindedly against Eddie’s stomach. It’s around that point that Eddie realises his body has almost completely relaxed against Buck’s, limbs heavy in a way they haven’t felt in a while.

“How do you even become a…cuddler?”

Buck barks out a laugh, the action making him nuzzle into the nape of Eddie’s neck for a half a second. It’s the most intimacy Eddie’s experienced in literal years and he thinks for a second he might black out.

“It’s- I like research binges and a while back I got really interested in the benefits of physical touch therapy. I’d fallen down a love language rabbit hole,” he adds as an aside. “And the short version is I took a course and joined up with the company. I’ve been doing it for about six months now.”

Eddie makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement, staring at the wall opposite him until his vision starts to blur. “It must be a little strange for you though, right? I mean I know you have to fill out the whole consent form and everything but there’s gotta be some weird clients?”

“Not really,” Buck says, voice hushed. “Mostly it’s just been people who feel lonely. Or- or who have lost someone recently and aren’t used to being on their own. Or people who are struggling to sleep, like you.”

Eddie gets the vague urge to point out he’s so lonely he fears he might drown from it but he swallows it back.

Instead he lets the silence settle around them, surprised to find he feels so much more comfortable than he had at the beginning. Buck follows his lead, remaining a steady warmth at his back and continuing to run soothing circles over Eddie’s stomach.

And it’s been a long time since Eddie’s been held by anyone. Even when he came home from Afghanistan he and Shannon hadn’t been in a good enough place to lie like this all that often. But it’s nice, much nicer than he expects. He feels oddly safe in Buck’s arms.

He almost can’t believe it when he feels his eyes start to droop, lulled by the steady rhythm of Buck’s breathing. He’s on the verge of sleep, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, when Buck’s phone starts vibrating.

Buck silences it almost immediately but it means he has to let go of Eddie to do it and Eddie feels an awful kind of bereft at the loss of his touch.

“Sorry,” Buck whispers. “That was the alarm for the end of our session.”

“Oh,” Eddie mumbles trying to rouse himself, shaking his head to clear the brain fog.

“Hey, no,” Buck says, hand going back to Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re almost asleep. Don’t ruin all our progress now.”

There’s something soft and teasing in his voice and when Eddie cranes his neck to look at him he finds a smile to match his tone. “Stay here. I can let myself out. It was really great to meet you, Eddie. I hope you get some sleep.”

“Thanks,” he replies and it doesn’t feel like enough but he’s too overwhelmed to say anything else.

Buck shoots him one more smile and climbs off the bed. Eddie listens as he puts back on his shoes, as he slips out into the hallway, and then as the front door closes behind him.

And miraculously, before he can think about it too much, sleep pulls him under.

When Eddie wakes up there’s an automated email on his phone.

Thank you for availing of our services! We hope your session was a fulfilling and comforting experience. We’d love to hear from you so we can continue to better or services. Fill out the feedback form to leave a review here. Or, if you’d like to book another session, please follow the link below.

Eddie thinks of the lightness in his chest, of the way he almost feels rested for the first time in a month, and clicks ‘Book another session’.

#buddie #911 fic #asks #littlerosetrove #my fics #follower celebration #i'm not joking i want to keep writing this #yes my last long buddie fic was about them cuddling shut up this would be different #how you ask?#well for one it's from eddie's pov instead lol

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fia-bonkginya · 2 years

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Hi, long time, this is "Dorian's Real Name Anon", just had some CR thoughts, hope you don't mind. Thinking about how Dorian shutters himself off as he prepares for the ball. The way he almost viciously discards his chiffon clothing and mask into the chest instead of just putting it in his bag broke my heart a little bit. I loved how Robbie described the Brontë Wyvernwind costume as being stern, elegant, severe, with no flair. I just hope he doesn't lose himself. Any (dorym) thoughts on your end?

aaaa welcome back anon!!!!

okay so. so here's the thing right. is that i am still trying very hard to reconcile together the things we know and don't know, the things dorian says and doesn't say, about his childhood, and i'm gonna do my best speculating, but it feels like there's SO MUCH that dorian hasn't said, and my guess is that even he hasn't unpacked everything yet, and i'm hoping beyond all hope that we get a chance to go on that journey with him.

because here's the thing!! is that dorian tells us he had a good, happy childhood. and we have some evidence for that- a happy memory of him playing music with his mother. i think we can assume that his parents encouraged him to play music, or at least allowed him to do so, and we can also assume that they had nice times together sometimes!

but then we look at dorian and what do we see? we see a performer with social anxiety, someone who had zone of truth cast on him at a young age, someone who felt like he was always in his brother's shadow, someone who had a lot of pressure put on him, someone who chose to run away from home, someone who wanted to distance himself from that life so badly that he changed his name.

and here's what i get from that: dorian's parents were strict. i think we can all agree on that. and, honestly, i think the "bronte" outfit also supports that- it's severe, like you said. nothing fun about it. and dorian says that he had loving parents, and maybe he did. but... i don't think it was an unconditional love. i think it was the kind of love that says "i will love you when you do well. i will love you when you show me you deserve it. i will love you when you make me proud. i will love you based on what you do."

and then... where does that leave us on the dorym front?

dorian’s experience with love is with a love that is transactional, and from what i can tell, that is not orym’s experience with love. because he was in love, already, and that meant everything to him. and he knows what love feels like. and so when he falls in love with dorian, he’s going to do so in the way that he knows- unconditionally and with his whole entire heart. and dorian!! isn’t going to know how to handle that!!

because dorian thinks he has to earn love, and i don’t think.. dorian doesn’t think he’s earned that. dorian is going to feel like he doesn’t deserve that kind of love, and i think it is going to take time for him to learn. and i hope.. and i think.. that orym is willing to put in that time

#critical role #critical role campaign 3 #dorym #dorian storm #orym of the air ashari #campaign 3 #i have FEELINGS. about DORIAN.#mine #anonymous #ask me

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xshinigamikittenx · 3 years

Text

The Quiet Game

NSFW Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI

You swear this class is going to kill you. With this much of a class load, there’s no time for friendships or romantic relationships, and that’s fine with you. They were just distractions anyway. It’s usually just the attendants and other students completing work studies at the library this late. This is usually perfect on most nights, but today is Friday, and you forgot he would be here...

Thank you SO MUCH to TrashyBee on Twitter for bringing Katsuki to life here. Good lawd 😩

A/N: Whew. Yet another one shot that ran away with me. lmaoooo. Couldn't really help it though, I mean...sheeeeesh. But child, anywaaays...this was fun. :) I'm also hoping you've been to a library and seen what the private study rooms look like, because it's kindof important here 😅 but if not here's an idea. Hope your future library thoughts are full of smut productivity!

9.5k words

CW/TW: semi-public sex, oral sex, clothed sex, vaginal sex, biting, swallowing, light degradation, gagging, fingering, hair pulling, deep thrusts, praise

You swear this class is going to kill you. Why the fuck did you choose to take on so many credits this year? Take more classes at once so you can finish early. The goal from the beginning was to get through university as quickly as possible so you could start making the money you knew would help keep you far away from home. Wealth is not something that runs in your family. Everything you get, you work for, and your degree will be no different. You keep your head down, focusing on one goal, to make enough money to support yourself and live the way you want. With this much of a class load, there’s no time for friendships or romantic relationships, and that’s fine with you. They were just distractions anyway.

Your roommates, however, don’t have that same logic. Some nights when you’re up studying, you can hear them, and whoever they brought back to the dorm moaning, the bed sometimes rhythmically bumping into the paper-thin walls. “Just like that...yes-yes-mmmmore. Ffuck! ” It’s...distracting, to say the least, and frustrating because your body’s reaction constantly betrays your mind's focus. Your thighs clenching together, your pulse quickening; no way in hell you can study in your room, especially not at night.

You shake the thoughts out of your head, looking up at the massive main library, your feet unconsciously moving forward. This is your sanctuary, the place you feel you can be most at peace, and finally give way to the maintained focus you knew you needed. The warm glow of the lights through the windows always makes you feel calm. The cold air whips into you as you push open the door and take in the endless rows and layers of books keeping you company. There’s hardly ever anyone here at this time, a discovery you made one night when you found yourself packing your books in frustration to escape the sounds coming from the next room in the middle of the night.

It’s usually just the attendants and other students completing work studies at the library this semester. This is usually perfect on most nights, but today is Friday, and you forgot he would be here. Your eyes land on his back, surveying him at a distance. The fact that he works here doesn’t quite compute with you. He’s built like he should be throwing a ball somewhere, all broad shoulders and toned arms. The sleeves of his olive green sweater are rolled up, emphasizing the lines and ridges of his toned muscles. It’s borderline irritating how good he looks, entirely focused on a mundane task. His blonde hair is somehow perfectly dishevelled, the lean form of his body bent over the desk, filling out some kind of paperwork while you walk in his direction. Usually, you would try to avoid him; talking to people, in general, is not a specialty of yours, let alone talking to someone who seems to have a short fuse.

You wait for a few seconds, thinking he’s got to know you’re there. He had to have heard the door open, right? But he hasn’t turned around yet, and thinking about actually opening your mouth to speak to him felt like the air was getting sucked out of the building. You were already introverted with high anxiety, and you did not need to feel uncomfortable right now, especially under the looming stress of this project which was due in two days. So you waited, hoping the subtle noises you were making, readjusting your bag, and taking a deep breath, would possibly get his attention. Fuck, this is taking too long; I’ve got to say something. “Um...hey.” Jesus Christ, really couldn’t think of anything better to say? You practically sneer at yourself at how lame you sound, but this certainly got his attention. He turned half of his body towards you, one of his scarlet eyes glaring at you over his shoulder. His face was rather expressionless, betraying the scorching feeling his eyes deliver, making you suddenly self-conscious of what you looked like standing in front of him. You didn’t think about what you were wearing when you left your dorm, throwing on a go-to pair of leggings and the first hoodie you saw before storming out of the overly cramped room, leaving the heavy breaths and moans of your neighbour behind you.

“Oi, you need something? Speak up.” Your face immediately flushed. The heat rising up your neck and blooming across your face, triggering your palms to start sweating. You didn’t think you were unnecessarily quiet; it’s a fucking library. You knew he was an asshole, but what the fuck did you do to him? Before you think about it anymore, you shift your thoughts towards how to respond to him, coming up blank. You grip your bag tighter, your mind racking itself, but the anxiety has already caught hold of you, and it’s as if you're stranded on an island with no help in sight. So you resort to your usual defensive mechanism; you bite back.

“So, what...? You want me to scream to get your attention?” He turns his body toward you, putting the full picture of himself on display. You’ve never been this close to him, actively avoiding him after hearing him ream other students out for being too loud or misplacing books. You didn’t realize how intimidating his stature was until now, being less than six feet away from him.

He wasn’t excessively tall, but his posture would convince you otherwise. Even as he leaned back against the length of the desk behind him, he was still probably a handful of inches taller than you. He lifts his glasses to rest on the top of his almost unruly blonde hair as he speaks, “Can’t say why I would find screaming necessary in a library, but if you need something, you should say it clearly so I can help you and not have to spend five minutes of my time explaining common courtesy to someone who knows better.”

Your annoyance is suddenly replaced with rage at his words. What the fuck? Is he trying to put this on me? Doesn’t he fucking work here? Isn’t it his job to pay attention if someone needs help? You’re even more pissed because you wouldn’t have to deal with this shit if you could study in your room. The constant reminder of your roommate getting railed while you were trying to work made that impossible, so here you are. It’s not like you wanted to ask him for help, but you need access to a private study room, and you have to request it from the attendant. Except for tonight, when you’re pent up and stressed, you have to deal with him. “I wouldn’t have to speak up if you were doing your job, asshole.” Fuck. He’s distracting me. I don’t have time for this. You watch his face as one of his eyebrows lift while he places his large hands on the ledge of the desk behind him, baring the outline of his toned chest stretching the fabric of his sweater. “Now, I know you’re not that much of a dumbass. What do you think I was doing before you walked in here and started wasting my time?” Your eyes widen, inadvertently travelling the length of his body, from the smug ass expression resting on his face to his rippling arms, tense as his hands grip the dark wooden desk. For some reason, this annoyed you even more; why did he have to be insulting and infuriatingly attractive?

His lips curl into a smirk, revelling in the glare you’re aiming at him. Dumbass? Is this asshole for real? At this point, he’s pissed you off past the point of giving a fuck. You would’ve walked away by now if you didn’t actually need his help. But if he wants to play this game, fine. A smug smile spreads across your face as you speak, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was speaking to someone who was unable to multitask. Your life must be so hard, huh?” He drops his head, laughing as he pushes himself off the desk, taking a step toward you. Your hands grip your bag tighter as he comes closer, lifting his head so his ruby-coloured eyes meet yours. “That’s pretty fucking hilarious coming from someone who’s at the library in the middle of the night on a fuckin’ Friday.” He straightens up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues, “Seems more like your life is hard, and you’re just pissed off about it.” His gaze is piercing, attempting to slice through your facade of confidence, but you’re currently too livid to give a shit. You’re done talking to him, you just need to get into the study room and away from this asshole.

“No,” you seethe, “I’m pissed off because I can’t work in my room, I have shit to do, and this conversation is a waste of time.” You lift your head higher, meeting his gaze as he smirks down at you. “Oh, seems like I’m not the only one who can’t multitask then, huh?” He chuckles, watching you as you fold your arms and turn your head, breaking eye contact with him. “I just need one of the study rooms opened.”

“Oh, so you do need something,” he says, his voice dropping as he leans forward, bringing his face into your line of sight, his sharp features coming into focus. “You said it yourself, you wasted my time, so I think you can ask a little nicer than that.” You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to punch someone more than how much you want to punch his perfectly fucking chiselled jaw in that moment. Regardless of how much his face appeals to your more violent tendencies, you realize you don’t have an option. All of this bullshit will have been for nothing if you’re unable to get into that fucking room. Your jaw clenches, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek as your eyes bore into him. You make a point not to break eye contact when you speak through the smile you’ve painted on, “Oh, where are my manners...would you...please...open a study room so that I can get away from you?” You smile wider, contrasting the cold glare you shoot at him as he grins, watching your edges fray. He slides one of his hands out of his pocket, assessing you while he tosses the keys up in his hand, the dull metallic sound of their impact in the palm of his hand, peaking your annoyance further. “Well hell,” he says, “it’s about damn time.”

You roll your eyes as he catches the keys a final time, smirking at you before he turns to exit the enclosed space of the front desk. You readjust your bag and look up to follow him, balking at seeing him walk in front of you. He takes a few steps ahead of you, his coffee colored pants clinging to the muscles of his legs as he heads towards the back of the library where the study rooms are located. Fuck, his ass looks good. You’re grateful when you take a glance around you, suddenly conscious of what your borderline heated exchange probably looked like to anyone who could’ve seen it. Not to mention the fact that it probably definitely looked like you were staring at his ass just now. You refocus, remembering that you’re supposed to be following him. You train your eyes on the back of his neck, trying to keep yourself from fixating on his perfectly sculpted form; when you see him turn his head, eyeing you. His gaze travels up and down, then up to meet your eyes before he speaks, “For someone who claims to dislike wasted time, you sure are slow.”

Fuck. Did he catch me looking at him? Your chest tightens at the thought. Just hurry the fuck up and get to the room so you can do what you came here for. You signal your legs to pick up the pace until you’re almost in stride with him and looking straight ahead. You know where the study rooms are; you just need him to open it for you, but why does it feel like it’s taking forever to get there? Your body grows warmer, anxiety still pumping through you from your previous conversation. Now being alone in this giant space in silence is adding emphasis to the fact that you’re practically alone. You try to distract yourself, feigning interest in the books that line the shelves as you walk past them. We’ve got to be close now; just focus on the room. You look ahead, expecting to see the study rooms’ glass windows but instead are met with more shelves of books. What the fuck? Did they move them? How long have we been walking? You glance over at him, accidentally making eye contact because he was already looking at you.

Without thinking, you look away, and then you hear him speak, “Ya know, no ones usually here at this time on a Friday. Don’t you have better shit to do?” Seriously? If he’s going to be a dick, why is he even wasting his breath talking to me?

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t,” you bite back, too tangled up in your own thoughts to decipher anything less aggressive, “and I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want me to be here.”

He continues walking, and you push ahead of him, attempting to put some distance between you. You don’t need him to lead you to the room; the library is only so big. Getting there on your own and waiting for him to open it would be better than dealing with this bullshit. You see him looking over at you in your peripheral vision as you pass him, and he laughs. “You don’t wanna be here, but all of a sudden, you’re in a hurry. A little conflicting, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes. Fuck off. Is what you would’ve said if you wanted to continue this conversation. He would definitely have something to say to that. “Are you forgetting that I’ve got what you want?” You stop dead in your tracks and spin on your heels to face him, “Excuse me?” He doesn’t even flinch at your raised tone, you could practically hear your own voice echoing around you as he walks up to you, stopping inches away. He’s so close you can smell him, a warm scent of amber and oak catching you off guard as you hold your ground. His lips lilt into a mocking half-smile as he moves his hand towards you to dangle the keys directly in front of your face. “What? You want to get into the room, don’t you?” Your focus shifts from the keys to his crimson eyes, blurring everything else around you as your body reacts to the heat radiating off of his skin. He feels...warm. I wonder - Your gaze drops to his lips, maddeningly curled into a taunting smirk. “Well, now I’m wondering what you thought I was talking about.”

He pulls the keys into the palm of his hand with a metallic snap, the sound almost making you jump as your eyes widen. You find yourself holding your breath as the tightening in your chest climbs up to your throat. Say something. Fucking anything. Your face must tell him everything he needs to know, because he doesn’t wait for a response. “How’s this, I’ll let you off the hook if you tell me why you’re here, dealing with my bullshit, when you could be studying in your dorm.”

This is none of his fucking business, but it’s easier to answer than the previous question, so fuck it. “I can’t focus there.” He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly not satisfied with your answer. You roll your eyes and sigh, “It’s just...noisy. I can’t think straight.”

He laughs at your response, “Yeah I can see that you're easily distracted.” You feel his eyes hovering over your body before meeting your gaze and shifting his weight to start walking again. You take a deep breath, silently relieved that whatever the fuck that was is over. “There’s this invention,” he says as he walks ahead of you “called headphones, ever thought of using those?” You shoot daggers into the back of his head as he turns the corner and you see the study rooms up ahead. Thank fucking god. He sifts through the keys as he walks, locating the one he needed to open the door. His hands move to slide the key into the lock, “Tch. Unless you’ve got roommates that are loud when they fuck. Headphones might not help much.” You know this is a joke but the heat spreading through your face, and the way your body tenses up catches his attention. “Did I strike a nerve,” he asks, smirking at you as his hand grips the door handle.

“Just open the door.” He raises an eyebrow and you release an exasperated sigh, “Please.”

He swings the door open, holding it open as he waits for you to walk through. Finally. I can get this asshole out of my face and work. You walk towards the door, and you notice he isn’t moving. I can hold the door on my own. Why is he still standing there? As you move you eye the entrance to the room, realizing you’re going to need to get insanely close to him to get through the doorway. Fuck it. Just slip by him and move on. “Listen, I don’t bite,” he says, noticing your moment of hesitation with a sly smile. You roll your eyes, making a point to look him in the eyes as you attempt to get by him. His piercing gaze slices through you, stoking the flames within your core you’ve been harnessing all night; fuck, maybe all semester. You fail to keep the flush from blooming across your face, turning your head away from him as you attempt to brush past him. You can feel him watching you, it feels like heat is emanating from his skin, pulling you closer as you hear a low voice directly in your ear, “Unless you want me to.”

What? It was a split second that you were close enough to hear him. Your breath catches as you finally make it past him, his words echoing in your head. Did he just-? You turn around to face him, “What did you just s-“ but he was already leaving, walking back towards the front of the library, probably to finish working on whatever the hell had him so focused when you arrived earlier.

You turn away, your back towards the floor to ceiling window of the small room as your mind reels from the last thing he said to you. I swear I heard him correctly. But why would he say that? Am I fucking crazy? You mindlessly unpack what you need out of your bag and sit at the desk, trying and failing miserably for almost an hour to focus on your work. You find yourself repeatedly scanning the same page because you can’t stop yourself from looking over your shoulder to see if he’s nearby. You nibble at the tip of your pen, looking at the book in front of you and unable to comprehend a single thing. Your oral fixation is running rampant and your thoughts are nowhere near where they should be when the image of his lips slip into your head. What do they taste like? Your body reacts to the thought, squeezing your thighs together as your core tightens imagining his hands gripping your skin, his teeth sinking into you. Fuck. Fuck!

You turn your head again, wondering if there was any way he would be looking in your direction; his thoughts riddled with the same infuriatingly erotic images on a loop in your head. Then, you see him. His back towards you as he holds a stack of books in one arm to place on the shelves. Your eyes travel down the length of his body, the lines of muscle subtly evident through his clothes. You watch him as he reaches up to a particularly high shelf, and his sweater lifts just enough to see the definition of his lower back. Heat is building inside you, the stirring in your core causing your walls to clench, thinking about raking your nails across his back. Ffuuck...NO. Get your fucking shit together. Why would he want to fuck someone who has nothing better to do than study on a Friday night? Fucking focus. You try to gather your thoughts, but must’ve mistakenly zoned out while you were looking at him, because as soon as your eyes refocus you see his head turned in your direction, one cinder red eye smoldering into you.

Fuck! Your body stiffens, unsure what else to do besides just go back to pretending you were working on this project. That’s basically what you’ve been doing since you sat down anyways. And for what? Just for you to embarrass and distract yourself just enough for this entire ordeal to be a colossal waste of time.You start to gather your things, applying more force than necessary to shove everything back into your bag. Fuck this. I haven’t gotten anything done and it’s been two fucking hours. I should’ve just stayed in my room, used my vibrator and moved on. At least I would’ve been able to think straight.

“You must do that often, huh?”

Your eyes widen and you immediately turn your body towards the source of the voice coming from the doorway. Your eyes land on his waist, then to the large hands in his pockets as he seems to take up all the remaining space in the room. You catch a glimpse of the student ID on the lanyard threaded through his belt loop. Katsuki Bakugo. You didn’t even bother to check the picture before you looked up, eyes connecting with the same asshole smirk you’ve been replaying in your head since you sat down. I didn’t say all of that shit out loud did I?

“What are you talking about,” you snap. You really don’t feel like playing this game with him. You already made up your mind that you were leaving, there was no way in hell you were going to stick around to get made fun of. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Ha. That’s a good question,” he takes a step, crossing the length of the room to lean against the desk inches away from you. “I have a better question though. How long have you been watching me instead of working?”

It feels like your brain short circuits. Did he catch me looking for him earlier? Fuck!

“I-” it suddenly dawns on you that the only way he would’ve seen that is if he was looking at you. You just didn’t see him.

You smile up at him, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “The only way you could even think that, is if you were watching me. So you tell me, Katsuki, how long was it?”

He grins as he places his hands on the edge of the desk on either side of him and leans down towards you, his face inches away from yours. His eyes hold your gaze, his crimson eyes blazing like an unhinged wildfire as he speaks, “See, it’s my job to watch you. I work here, dumbass,” he says, his eyes dropping down to your chest as you cross your arms even tighter. God, I’m such an idiot. Of course he’s watching me because he has to. What the fuck was I thinking? Further embarrassment creeps across your face at the thought of even considering that he wanted you. Then, he leans in closer, the sound of his voice a warm whisper against your ear as he speaks, “What’s your excuse?”

You almost stop breathing. Your thoughts frantically trying to come up with something; anything that wasn’t the truth. You come up blank, your expression must’ve given him the answer he was looking for, because he laughs. He laughs in your face, and as much as you want to be completely pissed off, you’re distracted by the glint of the piercing poised in the center of his tongue. Fuck.

Subduing his laughter he sits up just enough to look down at you, raising an eyebrow as he smirks, “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? That I was watching you because I wanted to?” You glare at him, the all consuming mixture of rage and embarrassment spreading through you as your face flushes. Your nails are digging into your arms so hard that you can feel it through your sweatshirt. You can’t think of a single thing to say, but your mouth moves without thinking.

Your eyes connect, and you spit out exactly what your mind is silently screaming, “Fuck off.” You make sure you don’t look away, pointedly challenging him to say anything remotely clever in response. The grin spreading across his face is the first sign that you’ve lost that challenge.

“Pretty nasty mouth for someone who’s in the library more often than her own room.”

You flare up, everything you’ve been holding in boiling over as you bite back at him, “You don’t know shit about me,” your voice is tight, and growing louder as you let the words spill out of your mouth, “I’m here all the fucking time because I can’t deal with the fact that I have to watch everyone around me have a life while I bury myself in school. I don’t have friends or shit else to do because I don’t have fucking time. I just want to get through this hell so I can finally just do what I want! So could you, please, get the fuck out of my face so I can go.”

“The door’s right there, you could’ve left a long time ago, but here we are,” he says, his smirk dripping with sarcasm.

I’m so fucking done with this shit. You move to get up, grabbing your bag off of the desk as you turn towards the door. Your hand is reaching for the doorknob when you hear his voice again.

“Did you not hear me?”

“Loud and fucking clear. I’m leaving aren’t I?”

“For someone who’s so fucking smart you really are a dumbass,” he says, standing as he takes a step towards you.

Why haven’t you left yet? Why haven’t you opened the door and - It hits you. You replay his words in your mind, picking up on something you were too pissed off to realize until this moment.

You turn around to face him, and you’re eye level with his shoulders, inches away from you. The warm amber scent of him enveloping you as your gaze travels up his neck to the angle of his jaw, finally making eye contact as you speak, “How would you know I’m here more often than my own room?”

“Tch. Like I said before, I work here,” he says, before moving closer, the heat of his breath brushing against your face as he continues, “but I’ll admit getting to see you makes my job less shitty.”

Your chest tightens, the fluttering in your core enough to make your pulse quicken as your lips part slightly.

He’s watching your face, smirking as your body tenses up when he closes the space between you. “But if you really want to leave...” he whispers against your skin, careful not to touch you as you look up at him with pleading eyes. He brings his lips a breadth away from yours, dropping his gaze to your mouth. “I’m going to fuck you on the desk.” he says, his hands still in his pockets as his words melt into you, “If you don’t want me to, tell me right fucking now.”

He’s so close to you, all you had to do was tilt your head up just a little more and your lips would touch. The thought invaded your mind, your breath catching in your throat as your body reacted to his words, tightening your core to the point of aching. You lift your eyes to meet the heat of gaze as you speak, “Do it, then-“

“Fucking finally,” he growls, his voice raspy and low as he makes contact, his lips moving against yours as the palms of his hands travel up to your face. They slide into your hair at the nape of your neck, collecting it in his fist, while the other hand grips your hips. He pulls you into him, moving you against the wall adjacent to the door. Your back meets the wall, the impact strong enough to make sound and your mind is blank. The feeling of his hands, his lips, his body pressed against yours, overwhelming your senses as you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater. His kiss is hungry and breathless, low groans vibrating against your lips as his pierced tongue slips between them, tasting the heat of your wet mouth.

You whimper into him, your body on fire from the inside out as the thin thread of self control you have left is priming to snap. His lips curl up into a smirk at the sounds lilting out of you and a growl ripples through him as he bites your bottom lip hard enough for you to open your eyes. He releases you, his breaths heavy as he presses his forehead against yours. His scarlet irises bore into you as he speaks, “We’re going to have to do something about all that fucking noise you’re making,” he smirks, his eyes traveling from your swollen lips to your legs, taking note of how tightly you’re clenching your thighs together. “You’re a mess already aren’t you?” His breathy laugh brushes against your face as he pulls away hooking his index fingers into the waistband of your leggings and tugging just enough for them to snap back once he releases.

A soft gasp escapes your lips at the impact against your sensitive skin, the heat pooling between your thighs as your insides clench. Your body is screaming, begging for him to touch you and your mouth moves on its own. “Please,” you whisper up at him, your hands finding the hem of his sweater as you spread your fingers against his skin, feeling every ridge of hardened muscle beneath it.

He drops his gaze down to your hands as your fingertips explore the surface of his skin. A low rumble vibrates through his chest, as his eyes sear into you, “Don’t forget, you fucking asked for this.” His hands move, pulling your sweatshirt over your head and dropping it onto the floor before he leans into you, pushing his leg between your thighs while he holds both your wrists in one hand above your head against the wall. His other hand grips your hip, his fingertips digging into your skin as his lips meets your neck.

You start to move against him, trying to get a taste of the friction your body is aching for while he teases your neck with open mouth kisses. His breath is hot against your skin, teeth sinking into you, as low groans escape his lips. He feels so fucking good and you haven’t been fucked in so long you might cum before he even gets to feel how wet you are. His lips move up to your ear, his voice low as his breath caresses your skin, “You’re riding my thigh like it’s something else, baby girl.” The hand gripping your hip slides under your shirt as he speaks, palming your breast while he kisses the space behind your ear. His teeth graze against your skin as a rippling growl erupts from him, pulling a whimper from your lips while your pussy grinds against his thigh.

You can feel the length of his hardening cock against your leg as you press yourself against him. He pinches your nipple, igniting every nerve in your body as he grins against your skin, feeling your body bend for him. A gasping moan escapes your lips, the sound filling the space around you as your head drops back against the wall. He pulls his head back just enough to watch your reaction; your eyes squeezed shut as your whines spill from your open mouth. “I can feel your pussy clenching for me, y/n,” he says, his lips trailing down your exposed neck as his hand moves to your other hardened nipple. The pressure he applies is sharp and delicious causing every muscle in your body to tighten, your panting breaths mingling with his hums of satisfaction as he feels you on the edge of unraveling at his touch.

“Fuck...ha...hahh...Katsuki...” You’re on your tiptoes relishing in the feeling of his teasing fingers as your insides coil imagining the feeling of him stretching you out. He grinds against you, his arousal pressing against your leg as your nails dig into the palms of your hands. “Mmm, You’re so fucking sexy, so desperate for this fucking cock aren’t you?”

Your lips are moving before you think, your mind consumed with the heat swelling inside you, “Yes...yes...please.” You lean forward in an attempt to meet his lips but he pulls away, releasing your hands as he moves to grip your hips. You let out a small yelp when he picks you up under your ass, and turns to put you on top of the desk. His hands slide down to the crook of your legs as he stands between them, eyeing you beneath his lashes when he speaks, “Pull them down.” You lean back, searching his face as you try to collect your thoughts. You must’ve taken longer than he wanted because he leans in, placing his hand on the wall behind you as his crimson eyes burn into yours, “You’re taking your sweet fucking time, and you’re already soaked down here?”

His fingers move to your warm center, feeling your arousal soaking through your leggings as he presses circles against your aching clit. Your legs involuntarily squeeze around his hips as his hand drops from the wall to grip a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to make you look at his face as his voice drops, “Spread...your fucking...legs.” Your pulse quickens, your blood heating up as he slows the pace of the pressure he’s circling around your clit and you whimper up at him, giving into the ripples of pleasure coursing through your body.

You want more, you lean back on your hands, hips moving to the rhythm his fingers play against your drenched core as your pleading eyes meet his gaze. You’re in a fucking library, in a room with a huge ass window. But the thought of someone seeing you makes your pulse speed up, sending a heightened thrum of pleasure streaming through you, “Hnnngh...ffuckk…” your hips move faster, cloying for more pressure, more friction, more feeling. Katsuki notices your body’s reaction, tightening his hold on your hair, causing your eyes to squeeze shut from the slight prickle of pain. “You wanna cum so fucking bad don’t you? That pussy of yours is begging for this fucking cock.” All you can do is pant in response, your eyes opening to see his face, smirking down at you as his fingers push harder, “Show me, show me how much you want it so I can see that dripping pussy.”

A breathy moan slips out of your throat as you sit up to push the fabric of your leggings down to your ankles. Katsuki releases his hold on your hair, watching your every movement as his gaze drops down to the essence glistening against your swollen lips. You hear his sharp intake of breath, the air hissing between his teeth as his eyes hungrily take you in before he meets your gaze again. His hooded eyes are a shadowed crimson, the heat rising up to your cheeks as you squirm beneath him.

One of his hands moves to grip the top of your thigh, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin as he slips two fingers from his other hand into his mouth. Your pussy tightens, watching him give his fingers a gentle suck as his gaze locks onto yours. The image is lethal, your breath catching at the sight of his wet fingers sliding past his lips and dropping to your aching pussy to tease your entrance. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet baby,” he hisses between his teeth, as he pinches your clit, the pressure enough to pull a gasping moan from your throat.

Your eyes flutter closed as you stifle a moan and lean your head back against the wall. His fingers maddeningly toy with you as you hear him unbuckle his belt. Sheer curiosity makes your eyelids hover open as you look down, taking in the size of him, his hand wrapping around his thick shaft and gliding over the prominent veins to his cherried swollen tip, dripping pre. You want to taste him so badly, your mouth begins to water and all you can think about is feeling his throbbing cock inside you. You don’t give a fuck if it barely fits. Your pussy clenches at the thought, wordlessly begging to be stuffed to the brim.

A low growl ripples through his chest, “I don’t even have to look at your face to know your pussy’s begging for this cock.” He thumbs the throbbing head of his dick, swirling the pre around his tip while his eyes bore into you. You couldn’t look away from his gaze if you wanted to, even as his fingers leave your aching core to pull you down with a rough tug at the crook of your legs, forcing your ass to the edge of the desk. He leans over your body, bringing his face inches away from yours, sliding a pre soaked thumb into your awaiting mouth flattening your tongue against his calloused finger. You wrap your lips around it, gently sucking and swirling your tongue, tasting his arousal for the first time.

A low moan rises from your throat, vibrating around him as you watch his eyes darken. He presses down against your tongue, forcing your mouth open as he growls, “Mmm you’re a naughty little slut aren't you...” His words send your insides fluttering, your hands balling into fists as your muscles tighten, your walls clamping around nothing but air as you pout. You don’t give a fuck anymore. Someone could stand directly in front of that massive fucking window and record the whole fucking thing. It doesn’t matter. You want him, right fucking now. You roll your hips, grinding your wet pussy against his hard cock. His dick twitches in response grinding through your slit and hitting your clit sending a simpering moan spilling from your open mouth.

You feel him press harder against your tongue and his voice drops, “Such a fucking tease,” he slides his length through your swollen lips, his heat seeping into you as he whispers, “You want this fucking cock? Let’s see how quiet you can be and maybe, I’ll let you cum.” He releases your tongue, slipping his hand under your shirt to swirl his slick fingers around your nipple. You bite your lip, attempting to silence the whimpers rising from your throat as your back arches at his touch, your hands craving to touch him. You reach up, sliding your hands under the fabric of his sweater as you drag your nails down his back. A guttural growl emanates from his chest as he ruts against you, every ridge of his thick cock sliding into your clit.

You can feel yourself melting beneath his hands, his fingers tugging at your nipples as his body moves down leaving soft bites and licks in his wake. The heat of his breath and the cool kiss of the metal stud in his tongue meets your dripping center and it’s enough to send goosebumps flooding across your skin. In one swift motion he’s on his knees between your legs, the back of your thighs resting on his shoulders and his hands gripping you to pull your plush wet lips closer to his smirking mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m not going to be able to- “Shhhh,” you watch his lips as he smiles, looking directly at you. You swallow the moan threatening to escape your lips but your shallow breaths are giving you away, he fucking knows I won’t be able to take this...

Then, he’s inhaling you, his tongue slipping into your clenching pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit while he looks directly into your eyes as he pulls away, “Fuck. You taste so fucking good.” His voice is heated and low, the evidence of your arousal glistening on his lips as he speaks. The image sends your insides fluttering, your muscles tensing down to your toes as your legs attempt to constrict around him. You’re squirming already but he’s got you pinned, wide open and spread out, at the mercy of his vicious fucking mouth.

He doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath before he’s latching onto you, his hot wet tongue delving into your silky walls as his piercing vibrates against you with even the slightest groan. You gasp for air, eyes squeezed shut, fingers intertwined in his hair you grind into him, completely blissed out and swimming in the waves of pleasure ebbing through you with every flick and suck. You’re a fucking mess, trying to maintain some modicum of control as he mercilessly swirls his tongue around your pulsing clit. His teeth nestle around it, gently rolling your bundle of nerves between them as he flicks his piercing against you, pulling a low groan from the depths of your core.

He growls, licking your pussy from your clenching entrance to your base of your clit before he looks up at you, “How am I gonna fuck you if you can’t keep quiet with just my fucking tongue, hmm?” The loss of pressure makes you whine, you’re so fucking close. He smirks at you, one of his hands releases your thigh, dropping down to push two of his thick fingers into your warm weeping center. His eyes follow his movements, watching as you take him in, curling his fingers to brush against your most sensitive spot as he slides in and out of you. It’s too much, but you choke down the sobbing whimper cloying in your throat. Your legs shake, breasts heaving as your panting breaths quicken with every thrust of his fingers. You’re biting your lip so hard to keep quiet you might draw blood, but you lean back, putting your weight on your hands to lift your hips and roll into him, letting his long fingers push deeper inside you.

You clamp down around him, your body begging for more; more feeling, more friction, more pressure, you want every little piece of it. You’re at the edge of your control, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back. You can feel him watching you, humming his approval as his other hand releases your leg, “Mmmm, such a good fucking girl with this greedy fucking pussy. You wanna cum for me don’t you...?”

“Yes-yess, pleeease...haah-fuck, FUCK.”

He breathes a soft laugh over your sopping pussy before he devours your soft lips hungrily, lapping up your slit as the rhythm of his fingers speed up.

“Hnnngh...hah-haah, please-fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He’s drowning you, your senses overflowing with the feeling of heat through your body, pushing you to the brink of release. Your pussy clenches around him, his tongue sending sparks through every nerve, punishing you with his thrumming piercing as he moves to sit up on his knees, pushing further into you. He knows you’re close; his hand slides up your body, his nails dragging across your skin until he reaches your lips, sliding two of his fingers into your panting mouth.

He moans into you, making his piercing vibrate faster. Your mouth waters as you wrap your tongue around his fingers, nibbling and sucking on them. You’re a mess, unable to conjure anything except slurred muffled groans around his thick fingers. His lips pull away just enough for you to feel him growl at you.

“Cum for me, right fucking now.”

Fuck...fuckfuckfuck! Your body reacts to his words, wrapping both hands around his arm, digging your nails into his skin as your climax crashes into you. You’re struggling for air but you don’t need it, the blinding light behind your eyelids rippling with the waves of pleasure imploding from your core. He doesn’t stop, his fingers milking your insides, extending your orgasm for everything you’ve got until he slips them out of you, only to delve into your tightening entrance with his tongue, lapping up every drop of your cum.

“So fucking sweet,” he breathes, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, using both of his hands to push the back of your thighs up, inhaling everything you have left as the last tremors spiral out of your body. Eyes closed, floating in the afterglow of your release, you feel him pull your legs back down as he stands in one swift motion. He grips the top of your thighs, roughly tugging you down until your throbbing core kisses the ridges of his dick. Your eyes snap open. Fuck, he’s fucking huge.

Your expression must’ve voiced your thoughts because he expels are a breathy laugh, “You feel that don’t you, how fucking hard I am from tasting your perfect fucking pussy.” His cock twitches against you and your hips roll into him as you moan, gripping the edge of the desk with both hands as you look up at him. Your legs wrap around his waist, tightening from the flush of heat emanating from your core. You want him inside you, to feel the mind numbing combination of pleasure and pain as he stretches you out.

Your voice is a whimper, “Katsuki….please.” You continue to grind against him, your arousal and his dripping pre making you slick and hot. A guttural growl rips through his chest as he leans over you, the palm of his hand slamming on the wall as he brings his lips to your ear. Your body stills, your breaths coming in shallow pants as his muscle toned body presses against you, “Please, what? Tell me what you want, y/n.”

His tongue flicks at your neck, making your words come out in gasps, “Fuck...fuck me...please, please…” Your hands glide beneath the fabric of his sweater, splaying out to pull him closer into you while your nails dig into him. Your back bows off the surface of the desk, tightening your legs around him trying to gain more friction to appease your swollen clit.

“Be a good girl,” he breathes into your ear, “ and control that pretty mouth of yours or I’ll have to do it for you.”

You bite your lip, your need for him coiling inside you as you feel him push himself up far enough for you to feel him hovering over you. Your eyes meet and his hand moves to position himself into you. The head of his cock presses against your soaking entrance, slowly slipping into you as you fight the low moan rising from your throat. He hisses between his teeth as he watches you, “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Both of his hands press into the desk, his arms caging you in, as he looks between your bodies, watching himself ease into you inch by inch. He’s already stretching you out, your velvet walls clenching around him as his wet cock slides inside of your clenching pussy. The muscles in his arms tighten, his body tensing as he begins to move his hips, pushing further into you.

“You’re clamping down on me and I’m not even all the way in yet,” he smirks at you, watching your face flush as your pulse quickens. Fuck...he’s going to fucking break me. But you’re too far gone, you want him, and your body speaks for you, lifting your hips as your nails claw into his back. A growl rips through his chest as his head dips, bringing his forehead to yours, “You want it? Okay then…”

Before you’re able to take another breath, he snaps his hips, pulling a yelp from your mouth when he bottoms out inside you. “Fffuck, you feel so fucking good.” You’re whining, struggling to accommodate his size but relishing in the mind numbing feeling of fullness your pussy was already becoming addicted to. “Not so cocky once that pretty little cunt is fucking full, huh?”

The only response you can offer is a whimper as he starts to move. He rotates his hips, grinding deeper into you, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. You turn your head, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to stifle the sounds rising from your throat. Your open mouth meets his arm and your teeth sink into him as he pulls out just enough to slam back into you hitting your limit. It takes everything in you not to cry out, but the pain is dulled by the overwhelming feeling of pleasure each deep powerful thrust rains down on you.

“Haah-hah, fuck baby, you’re taking me so well.” His movements find a rhythm, rolling his hips again and again filling you to the brim with every snap. The curve of his cock pushes his tip against your most sensitive spot, stirring your insides, making your body temperature rise with every panting breath. The feeling is intoxicating, drunk on the way your bodies move together, every nerve firing, desperate to drink him in more. You roll your hips, taking the full impact of every merciless thrust, your breath hitching as you choke back a sob. Your nails drag across the span of his back as you hear him hiss through his teeth. His muscles tense, back arching as a growl vibrates through his body. “Ah- FUCK. Ooooh, you want it don’t you. Yeah? You want it?”

“Katsuki, please, I want- I want more.” You’re a sputtering mess, your walls fluttering around his hard cock as he pushes off the desk, gripping your thighs in both of his massive hands. He pulls you further down bringing your ass off the edge of the desk. Your body is completely at his mercy as he pushes deeper into you, his fingertips digging into your skin as his pace speeds up. You don’t have time to adjust to his movements, he drives into you, snapping his hips, impaling you over and over.

“Ahh-ah-fffucckk,” you moan, failing miserably at staying quiet, it’s fucking impossible. It feels too good, you’re too full, overflowing with the sensations pulsing through your body. You grab onto the edge of the desk, fingers gripping the wood as his heavy sack smacks against your ass. “Mmmm,” he growls, What? Can't fucking take it? Fuck- cant control that slutty fucking mouth can you? Pussy drooling all over my fucking cock.” He lifts your shirt with one hand pulling it up to your open mouth and you immediately bite down, the fabric doing everything it can to muffle your stuttering moans.

“That’s right. Such a good fucking girl,” his fingers trail down your body, groping your breasts, pinching your nipples as every ridge of his cock fills all the space you have inside you. “Fuck- your so fucking sexy baby- you wanna cum don’t you...keep biting down on that fucking shirt.” You’re so close, so fucking close, the coil in your core threatening to snap. He feels you clamp down on him, moving one hand to press down on your stomach and the other to your throbbing clit.

The pressure pushes your spot against his dick, his punishing thrusts slamming into it every time as he rubs maddening circles around your clit. “Hnnnnf-hnnnngh!” Your shirt muffles your sobs as you squeeze your eyes closed, the tears prickling at the corners as your back arches, your head thrown back as far as it can go. “Fuck yes- cum on this cock baby...cum for me.”

His words are your undoing, any ounce of control you have left exploding into the myriad of colors flashing behind your eyes. The thin thread at the base of your spine snaps, catapulting you into the stratosphere, overheating and gasping for air. The feeling saturates you, expelling any and every thought your mind could attempt to conjure. You squeeze your legs around him, every muscle in your body tightening as your pussy clamps down on his throbbing dick.

“Fuck- FUCK-mmmm, get ready to swallow every drop of this fucking cum baby.” His voice washes over you, the waves of your orgasm still rippling through your body as you feel him slide out of you. He hooks a finger in the neckline of your shirt, pulling you to sit up as he steps back between your legs. Your eyes land on his straining cock, slick from your arousal and the dripping pre his hand is fisting up and down his shaft. “Open...your fucking…mouth.”

You want to taste him, your mouth waters watching his cock twitch in his hands. Your body is so fucking spent, your legs would give out if you tried getting on your knees. You push your ass back, hinging at the hips and leaning forward, looking up at him through your lashes as you hold your tongue out of your open mouth for him. “Ughggh, fuck,” he groans, watching you as the heat from your breath caresses his dick.

His hand moves faster, his breath catching as his muscles tense. “Fuck-FUCK- you’re so fucking sexy baby, you’re gonna take all this fucking cum aren’t you...yeah? Show me...wrap those lips around my dick baby.” Your insides flutter as you swirl your tongue around the swollen pink head of his cock, tasting the mixture of his pre and your arousal. You inhale the intoxicating scent of him before hollowing your cheeks and taking in as much of him as you can. “Hah-haah, just like that baby-FUCK.” He moves his hand from the base of his dick to the back of your head, your eyes widening as he starts to thrust into your mouth.

His other hand rests under your throat, holding you still while he face fucks you. A low moan rises in your throat, vibrating around his cock as his uneven breaths melt into groans and hisses. “So fucking perfect,” he’s panting, his voice raspy and rumbling, “Taste your slutty fucking pussy on my cock baby?- haah-hah- all this cum I’m gonna shoot down your throat’s cus’ve you.” He’s thrusting harder, his pace speeding up as he stretches you out, hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, your saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as tears begin to fall, “Choke on that cock baby, that’s right- take - all of it- fuck, Fuck-FUCK!”

The hand on the back of your head fists your hair as he throws his head back, all of his muscles tensing up as he bucks into your mouth spraying hot thick ropes of cum down your throat. You swallow every drop of him, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths as he slides his dick out of your mouth and pulls your hair, making you sit up. His lips crash into yours, his tongue lapping into your mouth, tasting the remains of your combined arousal. He releases the grip on your hair, bringing his hand down to your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he pulls you in further, sighing into you before he pulls away.

You look up, your gaze meeting the smirk on his face before noticing the smug fucking look in his eyes. You roll your eyes, curling your lips into a grin, “What’s that look for?”

“You had a hard time staying quiet in public,” he says, smiling mischievously at you. “I’m wondering what you’d sound like if I fucked you somewhere else.”

Your eyes narrow. How is he still such a sexy fucking asshole. “I wouldn’t mind testing that theory,” you say, smirking as you lean in, looking up at him, legs dangling off the desk.

"Tch," Katsuki eyes you, his scarlet eyes scanning your body as he steps out from between your legs, pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He looks over at you, "Then, I don’t know what you’re still sitting there for. I’ve gotta clean up the mess you made.”

You grin at him, the irony of him fucking you until your neighbors can hear you screaming almost makes you laugh, pushing the thought of your class project completely out of your mind.

Tags: @sweet-darling91 @aztecbrujeria @tarot-milktea I love you guys 💜 If anyone else wants to be tagged lmk :)

#bakugou katsuki #bnha smut #university au #college au #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x female reader #bnha fanfic art #mha fanfiction #mha smut #aged up characters

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