#so i was really surprised for some reason

[caitlinbueckers]

baby daddy.

paige bueckers x reader

3.2k

like guys . I don’t even know what to say rn . this is PURE fucking filth like yas there is some exposition in the beginning and its dialogue heavy but like ✋✋ just know this is fucking porn . So sorry for anon if this isn’t up to par but the wormz took over my brain and this is all i have to show for it . Love u so much for the idea tho <3

ANYWAYZZZ !!!! you and paige buy a strap. filth ensues.

MAJOR 18+ WARNING!!!!

“babe.”

it’s deadpan, borderline exasperated as you turn your head, meeting a wildly unimpressed expression from paige that makes you snort out loud, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

in your girlfriends hand, dangling from her fingers, is a dildo of some sorts, shaped horrifically in the form of an anatomically incorrect fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your surprised laughter from bubbling out, taking a step closer with a look of awe.

“dude, you’re kidding,”

“babe, why are we even here? like, deadass i have two hands and ten fingers, this is so extra.”

to be fair, she had a point— those two hands and ten fingers had never done you wrong in the slightest, but this was simply an act of impulse, deciding just that morning after you guys had spent the time with each others hands down each others pants, you’d declared in a sudden rush of post-nut clarity, that you simply had to see paige in a strap.

which, was met with a bit of intrigue and then, obviously, because paige bueckers is competitive in anything she can consider herself good at, couldn’t help but interrogate you in outright disbelief.

‘so, what i’m hearing is that i’m not enough?” it was said in the tone she uses when her sarcasm is over the top, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, slapping her arm.

‘baby, stop being so dramatic, oh my god.”

you’d kissed her to silence her delusions as to why you’d even brought it up in the first place, before explaining ever so gently that it was never a matter of what paige couldn’t do, and more so about the capabilities of what she could do, and that you promised it would be fun.

truly, she was on board after you’d told her that for some girls it was hard to use, so that, ‘if she couldn’t handle it, she could give up’ — of course paige would never back down from a challenge.

“you do have two hands, and i love them just the same. i just wanna try it, okay? is that okay?” you say it in your quiet, softest voice, and maybe you’re kinda being a brat because you know paige could never say no to you when you talk like that, or when you walk up to her, tracing a thumb against her cheek before pulling her down to peck her nose.

it’s immediate the way she chases your lips, presses a quick one to your mouth before she’s rolling her eyes, “anything for my baby, i guess.” but, she’s smiling, and that feels like more progress than before.

in the end, you guys end up picking something pretty beginner level— it’s only six inches, has a dual ended pleasure vibrator nestled in the crotch for the one wearing it and due to paige’s prompt request, it is in fact purple, which only makes you laugh at the excited shimmy she does as you both walk out, hand in hand, black, privacy sack swinging between her fingers.

“thought you were so against the idea?” you couldn’t help but tease her once you guys are in the car, music already blasting— you know all her music without really knowing it, but it’s definitely something by brent faiyaz.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “until i thought about getting to fuck you with it.” she says coyly, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow before she’s pulling out of the lot, hand secured on your thigh.

you guys don’t really get to it that night, or the next day— instead settling for the slow, tired morning sex that you guys indulge in before her practice and then after, the languid, loving type of sex you both revel in for the evening when she’s back at the dorms.

no, for some reason, it isn’t until a week or so later that it suddenly comes up— and even then, you weren’t necessarily thinking about it too hard, not until the teams all at dinner. you, paige, KK, and aubrey all sit together, and it’s really in moments like these that you love to actually participate in conversations with the team— KK and aubrey had been one of the first to welcome you in with open arms after you and paige had begun dating, so you really felt most at ease with them, even if they could be complete idiots.

not like paige was any better.

it had started with someone making a tiktok, going around asking who they’d never let their son or daughter date— resoundingly, enough people said paige, which was both parts hilarious for you, and astounding for paige.

“bro! literally i’m like, the best girlfriend, that’s some bull.” she couldn’t help but scoff, even if she’s smiling just a little, “baby, i’m a good girlfriend, right?”

you purposely take a minute to answer, pretending to think about it until she grasps your thigh beneath the table, making you snicker as she squeezes, and suddenly, you know exactly the angle she’s playing.

“girl, i don’t trust you,“ KK snorts, making a face, “you’d probably get my kid pregnant or somethin’, like—“

KK’s words make paige snort, shrugging a bit, “shoot, i mean, no wonder they call me baby daddy.” she sticks her tongue out, entirely too immature for the setting of the restaurant, but it makes you warm all over anyway— you love her, even when she’s being childish, which is pretty much most of the time.

the conversation continues after that, and though you pay attention, laugh when it’s funny and answer when you need to, you can’t quite get that out of your head— baby daddy.

it makes you think.

it’s late by the time you guys get home, and true to paige’s fashion, the door is only shut and locked for a second before she’s behind you, pressing kisses to your neck and sliding hands up your shirt, humming quietly— “i’m a good girlfriend, yeah?”

it’s not often that paige asks for reassurance, mostly because she usually already knows, but it’s why it makes it extra special when she does.

“duh.” you whisper out, tilting your head back to grant her more access while she sneaks a hand into your jeans, forgoing the button entirely. her fingers are prodding against your clit when you let out a soft moan, your fluttering eyes only opening for half a second before they spot the black sack from across the room, your own hand gently grasping her wrist to still its movements.

“baby, why don’t we…?” your tilt your head in the direction, leaning your head sideways to try and capture her reaction.

surprisingly, she looks just as interested.

it’s comes out quietly, pressed to your temple, “get on the bed then.”

you don’t waste much time, stepping out of your jeans and your top until there’s nothing left but the black, simple thong that rests against your hips, crawling back against her purple sheets with an inquisitive look on your face while she pulled the thing from its plastic package.

“remember what you said earlier?” you say offhandedly as you watch paige’s muscles flex and tighten, looping the belt around her before she glances up at you, “which part?”

“baby daddy,” you can’t help but grin, tossing your head back against the bed, “just wanted to see how true that is.”

paige scoffs, and it’s obvious she likes that, plays into it even as she crawls onto the bed, looking down at you with a narrowed glance, “how true what is? that i could get you pregnant?”

it’s almost immediate the way your body flushes at that, the subconscious squeeze of your thighs together as you look up at her through lidded eyes, “mhm. is that bad?”

“i mean,” she’s smirking though, and her hand wraps around the strap on slowly, as if simulating it to be an extension of herself— it’s really fucking hot, “it’s sexy that you even thought about it like that,” she whispers, and you can practically see the confidence rising within her at the prospect, before her eyes flicker up at you. “wanna suck me off, ma?”

it makes something within you go haywire, and your mouth practically fills with saliva as if to prepare for it before you nod slowly, propping yourself up on your elbows before you stick your tongue out, paige’s blue orbs never leaving you for one second, before she’s sighing, hard under her breath, “fuuuck.”

she gets up on her knees, running her hands through your hair to gently guide your mouth down to the tip, her teeth teasing the bottom of her lip as you slowly slid the length into your mouth. it felt foreign, heavy on the tongue, but the texture was so lifelike, it almost felt like it was attached to paige.

“shit, baby,” she sounds out of breath as she thumbs your hair from your eyes, wanting to catch every dirty look you send up to her, mouth full and eyes watering, “god, you’re such… a slut.”

it must’ve been the strap or something, that had the endless string of dirty talk spilling from paige’s mouth, not entirely too uncommon and yet it had shifted the atmosphere completely. it felt lavacious, provocative, tantalizing even.

still, it makes the arousal pool between your legs, making you practically squeeze your thighs together again and again, chasing the feeling of some type of friction as paige pushed her hips up slightly, the tip only then touching the back of your throat and eliciting the first drop of a tear from your eye.

she notices, because she doesn’t miss a thing, and is slow as she pulls it from your mouth, eyes lingering on the string of saliva that connected your bottom lip from the tip of the strap.

she’s breathing heavy, blonde strands falling into her face, loose from the usual braid she kept her front pieces in as she grasps your jaw, “does that hurt?”

it doesn’t, but it makes you smirk that she even asks, shaking your head before you lean back now, head hitting the mattress as you open your thighs, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“you can make it hurt,” you suggest, and paige lets out a slow exhale, a teasing grin on her smile as she grasps it by the hilt, “you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know that?” the words are hissed down at you, spoken between her lips, chapped from how hard she’d been breathing as she rubs the tip of the now warmed, messily lubricated length against your cunt, eyes narrowed and focused as she drags it up, then down.

“you’re so wet,” it sighs out of paige as if she doesn’t even realize that she’d said it, a whine puffing past your lips involuntarily, ready to spit some type of urgency towards her, until she pushes in, finally, and you fucking gasp.

it was unlike what you’d really ever felt before— especially having never been with men or experimenting with penetration on this degree. it’s thicker than you expect, thicker than paige’s fingers combined, and your back arches upwards off the bed, right as paige grasps your hip to keep you right in place. “shh, shh— fuck, you’re so good, baby.”

“ohhh- oh fuck, paige—“ the words come out in a mess of noises, as you fling an arm over your face to try and focus on the comforting rub of paige’s thumb, the smell of her cologne, instead of the stretching, hot pressure that’s collected between your legs.

it only takes a couple moments before it doesn’t completely hurt, but the second that it does, you can finally blink your watery eyes open, letting out a soft moan at the furrowed eyebrows on paige’s face, her own lips parted as she carefully gives a shallow thrust into you, the subsequent friction of the dull, now audible buzzing of the vibrator on the other end of the dildo against her clit and it’s obvious.

it’s in the way she grunts, tongue darting out to seek attention to her bottom lip. “s’that feel good?” she’s panting already, and it makes your stomach swirl in arousal, nodding quickly as she gives another slow, but shallow thrust that sends immediate shivers up your spine, a rush of rampant pleasure up your stomach as you let out a groan, “more?”

it doesn’t take long for paige to find a rhythm— surprising considering her dancing abilities— and once she does, you can practically sense the confidence that radiates off of her. it’s in the way she wraps an arm around your thigh to hoist your leg up, higher, higher, until your cunt is on full display, and she’s leaning atop you, pressing wet kisses to your breasts as she drags her hips into you, each push making you both shudder out a moan.

“shit, baby— so fucking— so fucking wet. wan’me to fuck a baby into you, huh?” paige always has a habit of going on these fuck-drunk tangents, ones that usually send you careening over the edge in due time, but this— it makes you mewl into her ear, the thick, heavy weight of the strap punching into you, deeper than you or paige could ever reach, and it makes your hips jerk upwards, wanting more of it, all of it.

for half a second, you hoped, by some weird anatomical technique, she could get you pregnant.

“ohhh— fuck! paige, paige— pleasepleaseplease—“ what you’re begging for, even you can’t decipher, but it’s really just to make sure that she rocks into you like that again.

and she does— again and again, drool collecting in the corner of your mouth from how long your lips have been parted, and paige looks at you, delirious and flushed as she drags her thumb over your mouth, wipes away the spit and reaches between you two.

before you can figure it out, you feel her finger tracing the outside of your stretched cunt, the wetness that’s collected there as she lets out a wanton sigh, something more high pitched than what paige usually grunts out, “stretching you s’good, baby— fucking- take it, jus’ like that— fuck, wanna fuck you stupid, baby.”

it’s almost too much. your head presses hard against the comforter as paige’s hips push flush against your own, the final stab of the length being inside of you makes your head swim, your body acting upon it’s own accord as your thighs, shaking, squeeze around paige’s hips, your stomach flexing and jumping as paige gives up whatever bit of composure or control she has left, before she’s quick to fuck into you without a single strand of resistance.

it’s hot, heady, and the sweat that collects on the surface of your skin is almost like a sense of accomplishment as her face falls into your neck, your thighs pushed impossibly high to give her the best angle, as she ruts into you. the slight curve of the dildo somehow gives a direct angle to your g-spot, and it punches a shout out of you, one that’s followed with a crying whine that even you knew was bound to get you both caught.

“fffuck— shhh- shut the fuck up—“ her mouth is on your neck in an instant, other hand quick to clamp over your mouth, but the friction against paige’s clit has her bottom lip quivering, struggling to close as each of her gravelly, breathy moans launch right into your ear, and it’s clear that she’s being greedy, grinding the strap into your cunt for the effort of chasing her own high, and it’s fucking sexy.

this deep, you can almost feel the fucking vibrator, and it reduces you into nothing— fingers twine into paige’s hair, sweaty and sticky, as she fucks into you with reckless abandon, the bed frame squeaking in protest, your cunt wet enough that you can fucking hear it, can feel it drip onto the bed below, feel it coating the sheets and paige’s thighs and you think she’s about to orgasm with how quick her breath has gotten, how shaky her hips are with each incessant thrust, like an earthquake pulsing through your body and it makes you sob, because it feels so fucking good, and paige is so deep, you can feel her everywhere.

“wanna cum inside of’you— ohmyfuck- please, wanna fuck my babies into you— iloveyou, so, fucking- so fu-ucking sexy, baby, fuck.”

it’s all gibberish really, a promise that makes you turn into a pile of mush, because you can feel your cunt tighten around it— delusionally, you imagine paige can feel it too— because even her declaration of love is enough to send you flying over the edge as your legs tighten around her hips, the vibrator nestled deep against paige’s clit until she’s coming too, and it’s a glorious thing to hear— ripping from her throat in a cacophony of throaty groans and whines that mimic yours, only deeper, grittier.

she thrusts into you, sloppy and out of control until you can feel her release on your cunt, spread against your thighs, the dull vibration now pressing hot and wet against you, so much so that it makes your body flood in aftershock, pleasure wracking through you in earnest as your body twitches and jumps, every embarrassingly high pitched noise ripping from your throat, as paige’s go muddled and unintelligible against your neck.

it’s like a cathartic release of sorts, leaving you feeling boneless and jellied in the wake as you slowly return to your senses, fucked out and exhausted as you try to experimentally move your hips, but the soreness between your legs is almost unfathomable.

“shit—“ you hiss as paige finally lifts her head, her own hand slow to guide the strap from your abused cunt, and it’s clear by, not only the tired, almost loopy smirk on her face, but the redness in her eyes, the wetness coating her lashes, that she’d enjoyed herself as much as you had— and while sex between you had always been mutual, it wasn’t often you got to see her fully release like that.

“was that good, hm? did i do okay?” she’s always quick to look for approval, her hand coming up to brush the tears from your face, to pepper a light array of kisses against your lips, chapped and puffy, as you let out a tired laugh, “fucking duh, that shit was… so hot,” you trace her blonde strands, plastered to her forehead, away from her face, “don’t think i’ve ever heard you sound like that.”

it makes her cheeks red, eyes rolling with a scoff, as she lets out a quiet laugh, already trying to play it off as cocky instead of flushed, “well- yeah, ‘cause, i was watching you take my dick.” you slap her arm weakly with a snort, wincing at her usage of words, “ew, you’re so gross.”

“and you’re so pretty,” she counters, before pressing a quick kiss to your mouth.

you both don’t really try to address the fact that there was probably no way you’d both been quiet enough to not at least alert one of the girls, but you ignore it anyway.

besides, it’s only KK that ends up putting you both in a group message the next morning, sending a string of angry emojis and a text that says, ‘bye im moving rooms’.

you both laugh, because you know she’s not, and more so, you all three know it wasn’t the first time and definitely not the last.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #writing asf #paige bueckers #smut #wlw #still feel like i could get even worse

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 6 Posting Thursday April 25

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage. 

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly. 

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock. 

You might have hit the man on the back of the head. 

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him. 

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face. 

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.” 

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap,  hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles. 

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours,  still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.” 

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse. 

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.” 

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it. 

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag. 

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking,  you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help. 

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly. 

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic. 

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course. 

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest. 

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with. 

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would. 

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.” 

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry. 

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all? 

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?” 

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance. 

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught. 

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you. 

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though? 

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic. 

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind. 

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.” 

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.” 

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper. 

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy. 

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest. 

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention. 

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.” 

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing. 

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure. 

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin. 

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else. 

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock. 

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes. 

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?” 

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed. 

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob? 

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing? 

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse. 

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer? 

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.  

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate. 

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?” 

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet. 

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment. 

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer. 

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.  

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.” 

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home. 

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily. 

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along. 

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!” 

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips. 

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar,@straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #alastor smut #alastor x you

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area 8

Chapter 8

Masterpost

“You're just now going to campus?” Jazz said. Danny scowled ahead at the sidewalk. Her tone wasn't judgmental so much as mildly surprised. He still hated it. “That's a lot later than usual. Is everything alright?” Danny hunched his shoulders up and consciously reminded himself not to get defensive. He wasn't slacking. He'd gotten home after his class and slept 13 hours. He still felt wiped out.

“Ghost stuff,” he said cryptically. “Ruined my night.” He dodged someone on the sidewalk without thinking about it, used to the crowds by now.

Jazz inhaled sharply into his ear. “They're supposed to leave you alone to focus on your education,” she hissed. “Just so you know, I do have the venomous Fenton electric creep stick-”

“Yeah, I know,” Danny cut her off. She was probably holding it up right now, thumb on the trigger. He couldn't fight off the rueful smile. She had his back, didn't she? Always did. With that in mind… “I think I need help,” he admitted. Oof. Felt bad. Not as bad as failing his classes, though, which was the danger if he got pulled too deep into more Ghost bull honkey.

“Of course!” Jazz enthused. He stepped off the curb and then quick-stepped backwards to avoid getting hit by some asshole running the red light. Danny lifted up his free hand to flip them off as he hung on his heels on the edge of the pavement drop. He dropped lightly back onto the balls of his feet and jogged across the street.

Jazz was still talking, voice clear over the morning meld of honking and running engines. “How about you come over to my place after your classes tonight? My roommate is out for a conference.”

“You just don't want to come to Crime Alley,” Danny accused her. “Even for me, your beloved baby brother.” He dodged a car that was parked on the cross walk and made an ugly face at the driver. “Despite your professed love for crime, when it counts, it's all talk.”

“I don't love crime,” Jazz reiterated with her inhuman patience. She didn't take the bait of his deliberate mischaracterization of her career plans. “But I am exquisitely stabbable." Her tone went lofty with the brag. "So yes, I avoid Crime Alley.”

Danny blew an unimpressed raspberry to show what he thought of that.

He hadn't met anyone in Gotham yet who he thought would really throw Jazz for a loop. She was a 6ft 2 judo black belt, and she was liminally spooky as fuck. “No one would stab you,” he said, making it sound like an insult. His janky ass was more likely to get held up. "But fine, I'll haul my poor broken corpse all the way over there to do you a favor-”

“So I can do you a favor,” Jazz corrected wryly.

“My poor broken corpse,” Danny cut back in, because that was a really relevant factor to him. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned a little. He felt like he'd been in a tumble dryer. Missing a full night of sleep was an insufferable insult to his desperate shoe-string construction of a healthy routine.

“I would so get robbed if I came there,” Jazz argued. “Maybe even kidnapped.” He could all but hear her flip her hair.

He snorted but let her keep her delicate feminine delusions about not being one of the scariest motherfuckers in the crime capital of the country. He wasn't actually worried about her interning at Arkham Asylum. Maybe he'd freaked out a little when she'd moved here, but that wasn't why he was here. No matter what anyone said.

“There's no immediate danger, right?” Jazz checked. “No reason I need to be concerned today?”

“Nah,” Danny reassured her, as the campus came into sight. He had about an hour before class to spend in the lab before his lecture. “It's not that kind of problem.” He felt his face arranged itself into a wry smile. “You might like this one.”

“Oh?” Jazz asked, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Only after I've sworn you to perfect silence,” Danny shot back instantly. “I mean it, for real, you can't tell a soul living or dead or nonliving or-”

“I think I get it,” she cut him off. Jazz huffed. “As if I can't keep a secret. You think I can't keep secrets? I know the most incredible things that you could never dream up.”

“...Big if true,” Danny snarked, pretending that he wasn't extremely interested.

“You never knew what happened to the Robinsons,” Jazz said airily. “And you never will.”

“...that doesn't bother me at all,” Danny lied. He stopped walking.

“Ahuh,” Jazz said knowingly. “Hey, remember the neon cheese incident?”

Danny gritted his teeth. “Can't say I do,” he said. It was bullshit, and even he knew it wasn't convincing Jazz. He was dying to know the truth. It had been the talk of the town for weeks and was still occasionally featured on unsolved mystery podcasts. He'd gone far enough to ask the Dairy King, but even the dead wouldn't speak on it.

“Have a good day of classes, little brother,” Jazz said sweetly. She ended the call.

He rubbed at his temples. Ancients, she gave him a headache. She was fantastic. She was killing him and absolutely ruining his unlife. He couldn't even beg her for answers about the neon cheese, because if he managed to badger it out of her, it would prove she could be manipulated into telling secrets. That would be a loss anyway. It was more likely that either she didn't know anything or that she knew and her lips would stay sealed: Danny didn't have any to waste his breath.

He did a few calming rounds of breathing, now that he was thinking about it, and then went on with his day a bit invigorated by the familial aggravation.

Danny felt a little better about focusing on class now that he knew he could count on Jazz in his corner. She was the smartest person he knew. She could probably get him divorced by the end of the day. Hell, she probably already had a contingency plan for getting him a divorce. She was so ready for him to have a relationship so that he would have relationship problems to ask her about.

When he finished up on campus, Danny cut across town to pick up takeout food as an offering. He presented it to Jazz as soon as she opened the door, head bowed and food theatrically high.

“Oh, come in,” Jazz said, exasperated. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and bodily pulled him inside. “My neighbors are going to think I'm so weird, Danny!”

“My liege,” he intoned seriously. “I come bearing- ow! Stop hitting my- hey, my face!” Danny wrestled away from the horrible pinching grip his terrible sister had on his cheeks, scowling. “That hurt,” he complained. “Have you ever thought that you're getting caught up in the cycle of violence?”

“I don't lose sleep over it.” Jazz lowered herself delicately onto one of the weird puffs she had instead of chairs and made grabby hands at the takeout. “What did you get me?”

“Coal,” Danny snarked. But he handed over the bag without a fight and plopped himself onto the closest poof thing. He fully laid out and let his head flop past the edge to hang upside down.

“Inversion therapy, so chic,” Jazz said absently.

He considered flipping her off, but his balance was really off in this position and it would be hard to defend himself if she lunged at him. Hell, if she picked up his legs he'd probably tip over onto the floor. Danny dug his heels into the side of the poof in defensive preparation. He kept her in his peripheral vision.

“Oh, Malaysian,” Jazz enthused. “I wanted to have this!” She sounded a little too surprised.

He shot her a thumbs up. Two days ago, she'd sent him a screenshot of a text landing from someone else that had shown most of her screen was the active map app she was using to get to an appointment. The Malaysian restaurant had the star mark that she put on the places that she wanted to try.

He'd gambled that she hadn't gone yet because she hadn't had a late night at work. Jazz only got takeout with company or if she got home too late to cook.

“Cool,” Danny said, because he didn't want his rotten sister to think he cared about her interests. “It was on the way and it smelled good.”

Jazz hummed and put the food on the side table. “So I see.” She folded her fingers in front of her face and peered at him over the steeple. “What happened? What ghost do I need to soup with a fragrant combination of turmeric and saffron?”

“Please don't waste that, ghosts taste fine on their own,” Danny said.

Jazz grimaced. “Ew, Danny,” she enunciated carefully. She paused. “Ew.”

He shrugged and accidentally slipped a little closer to the floor. “Just saying. But actually, no one dead was involved, unless we count-”

“We don't count,” Jazz cut him off, serenely unbothered by his attempts to score empathy points off his death. She was a cold customer.

“Boo,” Danny said, because he knew his brand and respected ghost tradition. “Anyway, Jeremy Waters. Remember -”

“How could I forget,” Jazz muttered. She put her hands on her face.

“Hey,” Danny said, offended that Jeremy got that reaction and he got a big fat impassive nothing no matter how annoying he was.

“What’s Jeremy done?” Jazz sounded exhausted by the concept.

“Well… He uh.” Danny stared at the ceiling. He couldn't look at her directly. “Well. You know how he wants the good favor of the god of the underworld?”

“Yup.” Jazz hit the ‘p’ sound hard.

“He uh, hit the idea that uh. Maybe a Persephone of sorts was just the thing to suck up.”

He heard fabric rustle as Jazz sat up. “He did?”

Wow, she had one of the most fascinating ceilings in the world. Danny stared intently up at a splotch that looked vaguely malign. She ought to get that checked out by an expert before it possessed somebody. “Yeah, so he's been trying to vault people into the Ghost Zone as bridal sacrifices.”

“Ahuh.” Jazz sounded a little bit choked up. She wasn't laughing, so he couldn't complain.

“I had Dani get Vlad look into it-” because Dad or Mom would have been mortifying- “and apparently, he told her the odds of some hack wizard managing to send a living human to the ghost zone was laughable.”

He paused. He couldn't go on.

“And Vlad would know,” Jazz said leadingly.

Danny put a hand over his face. “Yeah, see, the thing is that I'm now very concerned that Vlad might not know.” His words came out muffled.

Jazz was so intent on him. He pretended even harder not to know she was leaning in towards him. “Does- does the ghost king have a bride, Danny?” She somehow managed in a professional tone.

He nodded miserably.

She promptly lost her shit laughing at his misfortune.

#red hot ghouls #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #dc fanfic

[nishions]

things he wished he'd done ⟡ psh

syn three things sunghoon wished he had done more often & one thing he ended up doing instead

wc 640 && trope idol! ex bf hoon x non idol! fmr mlist

note 🗒️ ; my apology for ditching u guys 2 days straight 😢😢 i'll be back on that grind Again Tmr 😂😂🫵 also gc saw it first yupp 💪💪

saying "i love you" more often

you understood sunghoon had a hard time both expressing and showing his feelings, so it wasn't surprising when he rarely told you the infamous "L" word. you didn't mind, though. sunghoon showed his love for you through other things like giving you gifts and telling you how gorgeous you looked. the only times he would say the three words is when you two would argue and when he felt like you were slipping through his fingers. you didn't find this intoxicating, as you knew that he loved you deep down, but you did wish he would tell you more often.

sunghoon felt the same. he wanted to tell you he loves you in multiple instances — but he could never get the words right. he really did love you. he believed that in every universe you two were meant to be and he wanted you to know that. so so badly. it didnt matter what the circumstances were in the other timeline — he just knew he loved you. and as long as you were there on his side, he would be okay.

spending more time with you

sunghoon struggled balancing out his busy schedule and you. of course, he had his days off where he spent the day with you, but majority of the time he was tired and wanted to stay home. you weren't in the scene nor did you plan to be, but you still understood that your boyfriend was a busy man. from concerts, tours, award shows and being an mc at music bank — he was bound to be tired at the end of the day. he was never home with you. of course, you did facetime daily but there was still this huge block between you two.

it wasn't that you didn't support his decision of being an idol, but it was clear that this relationship was bound to end due to his busy life — if even you didn't want it to.

communicating with you

even in the smallest inconveniences for your relationship, you wanted him to communicate. it was always number one priority on both ends to initiate communication. fortunately, there wasn't many problems in your relationship — until he started closing himself. it was completely out of the blue. from the dry replies and ignoring you when you came over to the dorms — it was obvious something was up.

you asked the guys what was wrong with him and they didn't seem to know either. you thought that maybe it was just stress from the upcoming tour. you gave him his space, hoping he would eventually tell you — but he never did.

the one thing he ended up doing — pushing you away

you ended up finding that many so called fans started saying that you were the reason he lost his spark. watching sunghoon's en-logs and seeing him the background of episodes acting weirder than usual — fans were getting suspicious. did something happen between you two? did you guys breakup? now, it wasn't any of their business, but some fans didn't understand that. when sunghoon started seeing all the tweets and sour posts about you, he was angered.

sunghoon wanted to tell everyone that it was all wrong, that you weren't the one who made him loose his spark — it was them. the media. the pressure. that you were in fact the one who made him so joyful. but he didn't. he couldn't. the only thing he could do was to hope that you didn't check any of your social medias. without knowing it, he distanced himself until you both couldn't take it anymore. one thing led to the other and your relationship with the man who was supposed to be your future husband was gone. three words, eleven letters.

permanent taglist (open — send an ask to be added) ; @ms-no1kpopstan @naespas @kyoaeri @copyhanni @lilacnini

#⎯ 박성훈 ( hoon ) ㅤ✧ ࣪ 🐧 #enhypen #enha #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhablr #my works! ˙✧˖⋆｡˚ #sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #enhypen sunghoon #enha scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon smau #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader

[rebeliz7]

Dangerous

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Request: 32 & 64 prompts for Wanda or Natasha or maybe both😏

32. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

64. “You’re not taking me to bed. ever.” “Who said it had to be on the bed?”

…

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me God.” Natasha threatens you, annoyed and left eye twitching. 

She’s not being serious, at least not entirely, but you still raise your hands in surrender and lean back in your seat. 

However, her eyes stay firmly locked with yours, and you have to smile at how worked up she seems. She rolls her eyes when you smile, just like you were expecting her to, and the meeting moves along. 

You weren’t interrupting her exactly, but it’s become intensely apparent that your presence annoys the hell out of Natasha. Whatever the reason.  

Not that you go out of your way to annoy her, that’s not the case at all. The thing is, and you’ve been aware of this for a while now, you make her nervous. So nervous that she doesn’t know how to deal with you. 

No one else seems to be aware of that little fact, although the entire Avengers Team lives together for the time being. But Natasha knows that you know, which makes her angry. 

Irrationally so, you must say. 

“She’s gonna get you one of these days.” Clint warns you in a low voice. 

“Yeah, but not today.” You joke, and Clint laughs softly to himself. 

“You don’t wanna push Nat. Trust me.” 

“Oh I'm not worried, trust me.”

…

The meeting ends on a neutral note, since Sam and Bucky lost track of their target on their latest mission. A team needs to fly out to Mexico to lend a hand and things will get a move on again. 

Steve and Clint are going, and so is Shuri. This is not Shuri’s first mission, but you take it upon yourself to get her as ready as she can be before they fly out. 

She’s grown on you, in a 'younger sister' sort of way. You guess it's because she’s younger than you, and so amazingly smart, that her awe for everything you guys do endears her to you greatly. 

“Don’t get killed while I’m gone.” She tells you as you walk her into the hanger, and you’re tempted to laugh. 

“You’re going on a mission with Barton, you’re the one that should be worried. I’ll be fine right here.”

“True, but Natasha is about to kick your ass into a coma if you keep pushing her.” She reminds you, and you huff indignantly. 

“Why does everyone think she can kick my ass that easily?” You ask loudly, just as Clint comes out of the jet with a pointed look. 

“Because she can.” He deadpans. “And she will if you don’t give her some space.”

“I didn’t hear any of that.” You pointendly tell him while Shuri gives you a goodbye hug. “Still trying to process this lack of faith from both of you in my fighting skills.”

“Keep it up.” Clint tells you with another look.

“That’s what she said.” You joke, and you hear Shuri laugh too. Clint chuckles and shakes his head at you, probably thinking that you’re gonna get your ass kicked for real.  

“There’s a kid here!” Steve shouts from the jet, and you run back inside before that lecture reaches your ears.  

…

When you walk inside the kitchen you find Wanda by the stove, stirring a red sauce and your spirits instantly pique up. 

“Can I have some?” You ask, coming up behind her. She yelps in surprise, and you press a kiss on her cheek. 

“You scared me.” She smiles, her cheeks tainting red at your proximity, and you lean against the counter as she turns off the stove before checking on the pasta. “Can you set the table? This is ready.”

She’s a pro at this, and you can't resist her cooking. 

“It smells really good. My mouth is watering already.” You tell her as you set out two plates, and her cheeks grow redder. 

You smile to yourself, and can’t deny that you’re almost inclined to kiss those cheeks again, but you resist the urge. You and Wanda didn’t exactly date, but you did sleep together a few times, and you thought of asking her out properly, but the timing was never right so nothing real ever came up from it. 

Then she moved on -with Vision of all people- and you moved on too. Not that anyone was supportive when you started dating Emma Frost, and maybe you see their point now. Emma was a wild ride, to say the least. 

Shaking your head to get rid of the memories, you pass Wanda the plates. 

“Can you get another one?” Wanda asks you. 

“This isn’t dinner for two?” You ask as you go to take down another plate, and she shakes her head. 

“Natasha is here too. She went to take a quick shower, so she'll be here any minute.”

You smile to yourself. 

...

Natasha is tempted to bolt the moment she sees you’re going to join them for dinner, and you grin when you meet her eyes. It must be infuriating that you can so easily tell what goes through her mind, when she’s spent her entire life training to be unreadable. 

You know she hates it, and often wonders how you’re capable of doing it. To be quite honest, you have no idea either. You just have this sixth sense when it comes to her, that lets you read her like an open book. 

But, you keep your mouth shut all through dinner. You behave, while Wanda and Natasha chat away. You even get seconds, and fill their glasses with more wine when they get low. 

All in all, you don’t annoy Natasha at all while you eat, and you even offer to clean up while they move to the living room with a second bottle of red to continue their conversation. 

You put the dishes in the dishwasher, wipe down all the surfaces, and when you’re done you take a beer from the fridge with the intention to leave them to it. 

“You can join us.” Natasha calls out, just as you take your first sip. 

“You sure?” You ask her, and she rolls her eyes, her go-to reaction whenever you open your mouth.

“As long as you keep the innuendos to yourself, we’re okay.” She sips her wine delicately then, and you -a mere mortal- become entranced with the shape of her lips, and the sensual way in which she drinks. 

“Sure.” You clear your throat, and drink almost half of your beer in one go. 

You’d be lying if you said that you’ve never thought of Natasha in other, much more naked circumstances, but you’re aware that that is never gonna happen, and you’re okay with it. 

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.” Wanda notices after a while when she comes back with yet another bottle of red, and another beer for you. 

“I don’t want to annoy the pretty lady over there.” Natasha groans at your response, which only makes you smile. You almost can’t believe how easy it is for her to become agitated in your presence. 

“You gotta try harder than that.” She deadpans, and Wanda takes the seat next to yours instead of sitting in front of you, like she was before she went to the kitchen. 

“I’m not annoying, am I?” You ask Wanda, and she gives you this smile that you immediately feel drawn to. 

You breathe in deeply as she gives you this look that makes hot electricity run through you, and runs her fingers through your hair. You do miss her, especially when she’s looking at you like this and her fingers are in your hair.

“You’re quite charming.” She says, and you think she might reciprocate if you were to kiss her right now. 

“You see?” You look at Natasha, and she rolls her eyes, but not with malice. 

“Maybe I just don’t like you.” She says before sipping her newly refilled glass of wine, and you clutch your chest in mock offense. 

“You wound me.” You scoff while smiling, but deep down you do feel hurt by her words. Not a lot, but still. 

“Natasha likes you.” Wanda tells you then, and you’d think she’s joking if the look on Natasha’s face wasn’t so telling. 

“She does, huh?” You ask, mostly to yourself. 

“I thought there were things we agreed on not sharing with anyone.” Natasha reminds her, and Wanda shrugs lightly, the glass of wine close to her lips as she smiles. 

“What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom?” She asks, and with a start you realize that she’s slightly drunk, and oversharing is -unfortunately- her one obvious tell. 

That’s how everyone found out that you two were sleeping together a while ago, and right now she’s just revealed that she and Natasha are a little more than just friends.

“I swear to God, if you even think of saying anything right now.” Natasha threatens you, and you laugh, your comeback at the tip of your tongue. 

“She likes you too.” Wanda tells Natasha, her finger pointing at you, and you choke on your beer. 

“You’re not seriously trying to play matchmaker here.” Natasha’s grin is otherwise telling of how amused she’s finding this entire exchange. 

“What? It's not like I even had to look inside her head to know that.” Wanda says, and you finally put your beer down after getting your coughing fit under control. “I’m not wrong, am I?” 

She has the audacity to shoot you a smug look, as if she wasn’t throwing you under the bus here.

“Well, no.”

“Great.” Natasha sneers. 

“Okay, now hold on.” You speak up as Wanda laughs, and you take the glass of wine from her hands. She’s had enough to drink. “There are different levels of liking someone.”

“Educate us, please.” Wanda is trying to hold back laughter now, and you really - she’s just - she’s such a little shit.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly kick Nat out of my bed. But, I’m not interested in anything more than that. No offense.” You add quickly.

“None taken, and you’re not taking me to bed. Ever. So don’t worry about it.” Natasha tells you, and how can you not take that one? Sometimes she just makes it easy for you. 

“Who said it had to be a bed?” You retort and her face turns red, and you’re not sure if she’s about to kick your ass or just shoot you on the spot.

However, you’re not expecting her to walk over, and kiss you dead on the lips. Which is exactly what she does. 

When she pulls back Wanda is laughing, and you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Natasha asks when you finally open your eyes, and you swallow with difficulty. 

Without waiting a beat you pull her back in, kissing her again, a bit more forcefully than she did first, and she kisses you back in earnest. A part of you isn’t sure of what’s happening, but the other part of you is enjoying this turn of events quite a bit. 

“Well, well, well.” You comment when she pulls back, as if she’s finally realized what she was doing. If you’re smiling like a lunatic it’s only because you truly can't help it. 

“Is anyone going to kiss me?” Wanda asks, and you break eye contact with Natasha to look at her. 

“Come here, you needy monster.” You pull her onto your lap, and she straddles you with ease and familiarity. A pretty smile on her pink lips as she cups your face, and you wrap your arms around her waist. 

Kissing Wanda is still heaven. You’re once again submerged in her world, and you still find it incredibly addictive. She bites your bottom lip softly as she rocks her hips forward to meet yours, and you can’t help but let your hands wander. 

Grabbing a handful of her ass you pull her closer to you as she deepens your kiss, and you can taste the red wine on her tongue. Her breath is hot as she breathes heavily into your mouth, and your mind becomes fuzzy with want.

“Such a good kisser.” Wanda says against your lips, and you smile sweetly. She’s so adorable, especially from this angle, and the way she scrunches up her nose makes you want to kiss all over her face. 

“Better than me?” Natasha asks, and to your surprise you turn your head to find her sitting right next to you. 

“I’m not sure.” Wanda says with a false thoughtful look, and hidden smile. 

Natasha doesn’t give her a verbal answer, instead you watch the redhead grab Wanda by the neck, and pull her down for an intense kiss that has Wanda moaning in a matter of seconds. 

You watch them kiss while holding Wanda’s hand, and your throat dries up. You watch, and realize that this is actually happening. You watch until you can’t anymore. 

Grabbing a hold of Wanda’s arm you pull her back to you, and kiss her hungrily. She’s still moaning, her hands now desperately pulling off your shirt, as you do the same with her sweater. 

You hear Natasha softly chuckling next to you, but you’re already too wrapped up in everything that Wanda is to care about the world, let alone Natasha’s smug laughter. 

“I’ve missed your lips,” Wanda says as she pulls back slightly, a tipsy smile on her extremely kissable lips. 

You smile while your hands squeeze her bare waist, and you don't hold back from kissing her again. You’ve missed her lips too, and you hope she can read between the lines. 

Her hands in your hair pull back lightly, exposing your neck as she moves to place heady kisses all over it. You’re breathing rapidly now, your hands massaging her breasts, as she licks a path up your throat, still pulling on your hair. 

“Kinda feeling left out here.” Natasha’s voice breaks through the fog in your mind, and Wanda sits back on your lap, as she tries to get her breathing under control. 

“I’m not sure of what's happening exactly.” Wanda says as you inch closer to her. Your hands are still on her, touching every inch of her exposed skin as you can, while she combs back your hair. You kiss her upper breast, careful not to leave any hickies, despite desperately wanting to. 

She gasps, and you look up to kiss her lips, focusing on pinching her nipples now as she rocks her hips forward. 

“You want to stop?” You ask after pulling back only the necessary amount to be able to ask her that. 

“No.” She shakes her head, her hand gently caressing your cheek as she looks into your eyes. “I think I want you both.”

Instinctively you look towards Natasha, who is still holding her glass of wine, and sipping the red liquid delicately as she observes the two of you. 

“Do you - ” Wanda grabs your chin, making you look at her. “Do you want me?” She asks, and you move to pull her ever closer to you. As if that’s possible.  

“Always.” You nod quickly, and as you kiss the corner of her lips she turns to look at Natasha with the same question. 

“You don’t ever have to worry about that.” You hear Natasha say, but you refuse to stop kissing every single inch of her skin to look. 

“I don’t?” Wanda asks breathlessly, your mouth doing wonders on her neck, while your hands reacquainted themselves with the rest of her body. 

“You don’t.” Natasha says, and she sounds much closer now. Her voice is more sultry than you've ever heard it before, and you pull back, if only to see the look on her face. 

You watch her take Wanda’s outstretched hand as she stands, and pulls Wanda on her feet as well. You swallow with difficulty as you watch her kiss Wanda softly, lips merely ghosting over each other. 

However fleeting the kiss though, you see Wanda’s legs quiver and Natasha’s arm wrapping around her waist to keep her upright. 

“Bedroom?” She asks her with the confidence of someone who already knows the answer, and Wanda nods, as if in a daze. 

You watch them walk away, and you try to calm your racing heart, but it’s difficult when Wanda turns to you from the hallway. 

“You coming?” She asks you, and you’re pretty sure that your brain short circuits. 

You stand up, picking up your unfinished beer, and down it in one go before you nod, and walk towards her. 

“That's what she said.” You stupidly joke, and Natasha rolls her eyes expectedly, but now you see that the edge in her eyes isn’t entirely hate. 

“Incorrigible.” Wanda smiles as she grabs your hand, and pulls enough for you to fall into step next to her. 

“You’re dangerous.” You murmur close to her ear as you wrap your arms around her from behind, and she throws you a side glance, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” She says, and Natasha chuckles lightly as she unlocks the door to her bedroom. 

“Sure you don’t.” She says as she pulls Wanda in for a demanding kiss, and you close the door behind you. 

Well, you think to yourself, Natasha might actually end up killing you after all, but at least it’ll be pleasurable for the both of you. 

...

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #na #natasha romanoff x you #nat #natasha romanoff imagine #nata #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls | Step back

WC: 1.5K

Driver!oc x Max Verstappen

Summery: When Esteban crashes into Cecilia and blames her, Max won’t stand for it.

Warnings: Cursing, crashing, fighting

A.N: Could be read as a stand alone or part of the series.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It’s race day, Cecila was starting P4 Max P3. The weather was good, no rain and it wasn't too hot. There was the possibility of a safety car but the team wasn't holding on to that. Following the team strategy for the week seemed like a good thing. Cecilia was feeling good about the race, and her pace. She had good control of the car and everything was running smoothly, some would say too smoothly. This should’ve been the sign that something will happen.

On lap 48 of 53 she was about to finish P2 just passing the pitlane exit when a car came out of the pitlane fast, this made her try and swerve away so they wouldn't crash but that caused both cars to get off the track. Cecilia cursed as she lost control of the car for a second before she got it under control and the car stopped.

Cecilia

Who the fuck is that? What the hell?

RE

That's Ocon

Cecilia

Seriously what's wrong with him

It's not the first time the frenchman crashed into Cecilia, thankfully he barely touched her car this time and from the looks of it his car sustained damage, Cecilia was able to get back on the track but she had lost her place and was down to P11 he made her loose all the points and any progress she made throughout the race.

Obviously by the end of the race she couldn't make up the positions she lost. Finishing p 9. Cecilia was angry and disappointed. Rightfully so.

She parked the car and got out walking down the pitlane to get weighted and go do her media duty. She didn't bother taking her helmet off until she was off the lane. An fia person was talking to her, they gave Ocon a penalty for going over the speed exiting pit lane and forcing her off track.

They were barely out of the public view when an angry voice called Cecilia. The female was surprised to see that it's Ocon. He had no reason to be angry with her; she literally did nothing.

"What the fuck Cecilia!"

"What are you on about?" She asked him back, her voice angry.

"You just cost me the race." Esteban shouted, moving his hand around, the much taller male was now in arms reach of Cecilia, the FIA person stepped back to let the drivers scream their hearts out at each other.

"I cost YOU the race? you cost me the podium!" She was beyond confused why he was shouting at her for, he's clearly in the wrong.

"You still got points, I came in last!"

"How in the world is that my fault, you better check yourself Ocon because this isn't the first time you've crashed into me." She pointed at him before she crossed her arms feeling defensive, the Frenchman wasn't backing down, in fact he was moving closer.

"Hey, hey calm down mate." Carlos came up behind Cecilia, he stood facing the two fighting drivers, their voices were carrying all over the area.

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down, my race is ruined, I got no points and I'm being investigated!"

"None of this is my fault and what you thought coming here to fight me will do what? Huh? What the fuck do you want?" Cecilia was really trying to calm down, but he wasn't helping. "It’s not my fault you can't drive!"

"What the fuck did you just say to -" Carlos placed his hand on Estaban’s shoulder to stop him from coming any closer, but Cecilia didn't take a step back, this irritated Estaban more. He tried to push Carlos off him but the Spaniard was holding him back. Suddenly they were joined with Lewis, the Mercedes driver stood next to his teammate quickly assessing the situation. "You shouldn't even be driving in an F1 car! Only got here because of daddy's money-"

"Woah, woah mate come on it's just one race." Now Lewis tried to stop him. Estaban then switched to French, he was shouting and Cecilia to her credit stopped talking when she saw that nothing was going through to him.

"Stupid fucking spoild brat, ccouldn't even keep it in your pants and-“

"I swear to god Estban shut the fuck up-

“Step back,mate.” Lewis said but it was like he was talking to himself.

"What's the truth!”

"That doesn't have to do with anything, stop being pitty.” Cecilia tried to reason, while also controlling her own anger.

“I'm not pity it's facts, You slu-“

Estaban almost fell on his back, a body was in front of you blocking his view to you, Estaban stumbled back. Since Carlos was holding him back he managed to help him balance himself before he fell. Looking up at who pushed him, he expected Lewis but he saw Max.

And Max is mad, he's pissed. He heard Esteban before he heard your voice and he knew enough French and heard what happened on track quickly from one of the Mercedes engineers that were around to congratulate Lewis on his podium.

"If you can’t drive, it’s your fucking fault, you don’t go around blaming people for your own wrong doings, you crashed into her, not the other way around.” Max spat the words out, he was breathing heavily, and when Cecilia tried to move to his side, Max just moved in front of her again. Lewis shook his head at her, this is now Max’s fight, no man would see another man yelling at his significant other and just stand by. Yes she can hold her own and can protect herself but it’s not about that. Max is dominant by nature and very protective, Cecilia is his and he’s not about to let someone disrespect her like that.

“You’re just saying that because you fuck her.” Once the words left his mouth, Carlos pushed Esteban back, before him and Lewis held Max back, and if they didn’t he would’ve broken his jaw.

“Max! Max, come on, it's not worth it.” Cecilia shouted trying to get her boyfriend to calm down but to no avail, in what felt like ages but in fact under a minute, more people were around breaking the two men away from each other, there was a lot of shouting cursing, Esteban and Max wouldn’t back down. It took Esteban being pulled away by his team to get Max to calm down just enough for him to start hearing what was being said to him. Cecilia held his bicep and placed a hand on his chest, he was heaving, his eyes looking at where Esteban went. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

“Okay, I think we can all get back to work now!” Christian who appeared mid-fight, called for everyone, the crowd started to disperse, Toto who was also present told the female to come find him after she’s done. Christian patted Max’s back and whispered something in his ear before he looked at Cecilia, with a reassuring nod, he left the couple. She can handle Max.

“You okay?” She asked him softly, Max still wouldn’t look at her, placing her hand on his cheek, he finally looked at her.

“Am I okay? Are you okay?” Max’s tone did a 180, this is her Max, the Max only she gets to see.

“Yeah, he hasn’t said anything new, and he’s wrong.” Cecilia shrugged, she’s not friends with Esteban, they don’t really have common friends, but she liked to believe that she’s on good terms with everyone on the grip, but apparently not.

“Still doesn’t make it okay.” Max pushes her hair out of her face, it’s out of the braid and flowing down her back.

“Never said it does, but you know, some men have fragile egos.” Cecilia said with a smile, her hands were on his chest, they were standing very close.

“Yeah, and they better stay away from you.” Max muttered bitterly. “Fuck, I still want to punch him.”

“That makes the two of us, BUT we have a daughter to set an example for so we’ll take the high ground.” Cecilia knew that once she brought the Nathalie card Max would cave, and he knew she knew that, Cecilia giggled at the look he gave her. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“It’s my job.” Max kissed her forehead and pulled the female in for a hug, they were both sweaty and Max still had champagne all over him but they both needed that hug. They stood there for a few minutes, before they pulled back, they had obligations to do, and both will have to talk to their teams about what happened and the FIA would have to hear about it as well. So a lot of work for both of them.

“I love you.” Cecilia said as they rounded the corner for the media pen.

“I love you too.” Max kissed the back of her hand that was laced in his before they pulled away from each other and were joined by their own team’s PR managers to go into the media pen.

TAGLIST:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader . @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 . @skynel09 . @barcelonaloverf1life . @lilipiggytails . @rebelatbay . @christianpulisic10 . @ironmaiden1313 . @dark-night-sky-99 . @amalialeclerc . @bborra . @allsouls-emma . @buckybarns4life . @distancedss . @xoscar03 . @aquangxl .

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #my girls #max verstappen x oc #max x oc #max one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic is a Roommate AU!

(872 words.)

James is slowly going mad.

No, not even slowly. He's fallen straight into madness, and he doesn't know how to save himself.

When Sirius asked if one of his course mates, Remus Lupin, could move in for a while, of course, he said yes. Remus had been going through something, and James is always happy to help. Not only that, but Remus is bloody brilliant. He went from being shy, fairly withdrawn, to a hilarious, witty person who James is happy to call his friend.

Sirius clearly doesn't just want to call Remus his friend.

James doesn't think he can watch the two of them practically undressing each other with their eyes at breakfast, accidentally reaching for the same thing and blushing like idiots while they apologise, or trying their hand at fucking awful flirting. It's getting painful, the clear fact that they've fallen for one another right in front of them, while they dance around it like they've never been certain of anything less in their lives.

To be perfectly honest, James is starting to wonder if he should just lock them both in a room and-

"S'fine, I don't care," Sirius' voice cuts through James' thought process as he steps out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. James looks up just in time to watch Remus following behind him hurriedly. So quickly that he almost walks directly into Sirius when he stops and turns around to face him. "I'm not carrying you through the project just because you forgot you had shit to do, though. You can do your part later."

"When have I not done my work, Sirius? Christ, at this point I thought you'd trust me. I already apologised for forgetting!"

"Mhm, and I've already said I don't care. Go have fun on your date, Remus," Sirius says back, just a hint of bitterness settling in his words. It really does sound like he cares.

Remus must be thinking the same thing, because he walks out without saying another word. Sirius immediately heads to the fridge, dropping his head against the door and letting his shoulders slump with a sigh.

"Oh, Sirius, you're a fucking idiot," Sirius groans to himself under his breath. James chuckles.

"Agreed."

"Jesus buggering Christ!" Sirius jumps a mile, practically falling into the counter as he whips his head around to face James. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough to watch that trainwreck," James answers simply. For some reason, Sirius seems to decide that it's the perfect time to play dumb.

"What d'you mean? It's fine, Remus is just..."

"Going on a date," James fills in. "With someone who isn't you. Which, by the way, is really bloody stupid of him, so at least you've got that in common."

"No, that's not- I don't..."

All James needs to do is arch an eyebrow, and Sirius' shoulders slump.

"Okay, fine, yeah. I really like him."

"No, really?" James asks sarcastically. At Sirius' unamused look, he keeps talking. "Sirius, I'm not being funny, you should see the way he looks at you when you're not looking. Or even when you are, actually. I'm surprised you haven't seen it! You should have asked him out months ago."

"God, I've really fucked it up, haven't I?" Sirius groans, scrubbing a face over his hand. "I wanted to tell him ages ago, I swear! It's just, he-" Sirius drops down into the chair opposite James, eyes fixed on his hands. "He was going through a lot, and then I was asking him if he wanted to move in before I knew what I was saying! How am I meant to tell him anything when he's living in the same flat as me? That could go so wrong, James. I could literally ruin everything!"

Okay, James is at a loss for words. That's... a lot, and Sirius is clearly stressed out. He opts for reaching across the small table and squeezing Sirius' shoulder. Before he can say anything comforting, though, a rustle comes from the door. Someone's trying to get in, and if they have a key, they're really struggling to use it.

Sirius walks over to the door with a confused frown, pulling it open to find Remus, key held out and a stunned expression on his face. James watches the two of them hesitate in front of one another for a moment.

"Remus? What-?"

Before he can say another word, Remus expression fixes to one that James can only describe as determined, before he surges forward and connects his and Sirius' lips. Sirius staggers backwards for a moment, caught by Remus hands sliding around his waist as he reaches his own up to the nape of Remus' neck.

James doesn't know whether or not he should be averting his eyes. Thankfully, they decide that for him, Remus pulling away and starting to speak hurriedly.

"I got halfway down the street and realised that I was being so fucking stupid. I really like you, Sirius. I have for so long, and I guess I thought maybe a date would help me get over it but, God, all I wanted to do was come back here and see you, so..."

Okay, so they're both idiots.

Still, by the look on Sirius' face, he has a feeling that they're finally getting their act together.

#this almost turned into a looong oneshot #it just made me so happy to write lmfao #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

[prongsiepotter]

sunbathing by the black lake | j. potter

summary: your childhood best friend james is being a little shit but in an endearing sort of way while showing his little acts of love

pairing: james potter x childhood bsf!reader

a/n: my first time writing on this blog!! i have a childhood friends to lovers playlist on spotify if anyone wants to listen to it bc i have a feeling it’s all i’ll write abt lol would really appreciate some feedback! enjoy x

──────── ❂ ‧₊°

There's no way to explain how the energy shifts when James is around. It simply does. Just like how you can feel the sun beating down on you right now. Hence, you can sense his approach without as much as a glance at him, your gaze continuing to drift across the notes Remus left for you in the margins of your essay.

James knows that, of course, as he strides across the grass towards you. You have never really talked about it, but seeing how he can also just tell when you're about to enter a room he's in, you both have made it a habit to not announce your presence. There's just no need.

So when he plops down next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder like it's his birthright, neither of you is surprised. In fact, it’s just right. Like puzzles slotting in perfectly.

For a few minutes, the world consists of birds chirping, a warm breeze, and the distant laughter of a group of Hufflepuff girls sitting a few paces away. You flip the page and let out a huff of laughter. James chuckles, his voice low and right next to your ear as he says, "Wouldn't be Moony if everything he touches didn't have a chocolate stain on it."

"It's like he's marking his territory." You try to rub it off with your sleeve, but the smudge only gets bigger. You squint and hold the paper in front of you, trying to discern if it's that noticeable (it is) but with a shrug you decide you couldn't care less. The movement makes James' glasses slide down to the tip of his nose, and he leans forward to make a dramatic face at you as if you had done him deeply wrong. With a playful eye-roll, you push them back for him and get a signature James Potter smile in return.

"Cheers, love." He beams at you and retrieves a balled-up napkin from the inside of his robe before taking it off. You watch him roll up the sleeves of his white Oxford shirt to his elbows, placing the mystery napkin on your lap. You glance at it curiously. "Unwrap it," he says. "It's for you."

Doing as you're told, you perk up with excitement when the content reveals itself. "Effie sent them?" You hold up the mangled piece of apple crumble like it's the most sacred thing you have ever gotten to hold, which it is. James nods, smiling at your happy dance. "I love her apple crumbles. Thank you!"

"You love everything my mum bakes," he says while lying down on his side, right in front of you with his head propped up on his palm. There's a glimmer in his amber eyes.

You give him a pointed look.

"Because everything that lovely woman bakes is the most scrumptious and amazing thing to exist." You take a big bite from the apple crumble to prove your point and your eyes flutter close as you hum. "This is why we're friends, Potter," you say with a mouthful. "No other reason. This is it."

"Oh yeah?" You hear the amusement in the drawl of his voice. Then he cups the side of your face and you look down at him as he distractedly brushes off some crumbs from the corner of your mouth. He looks up at the sky. "That's a shame because this is the last time you will get anything my mum has baked."

James' gaze is still turned upward, giving the sky his utmost interest as if to check if it's still blue. You stare at him in bewilderment. "Are you insane? Why would you deprive me of Effie's food?"

"I wonder how the weather will be tomorrow," he responds flippantly, and you swear your eye twitches.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, narrowing your eyes at him. "I forgot you were satan's spawn."

James does not react. You don’t think he will even reply with the way how he’s squinting and examining the very much non-existent clouds in the clear sky. But then he looks at you like you had asked him to solemnly share his meteorology findings with you, and with undeserved earnestness he tells you, "I think tomorrow will be just as sunny as today."

You blink at him. Then give a long-suffering sigh. "I thought you cared about me."

"I do," James says, rolling over to lay on his back with his eyes closed. "Which is why I can't have you lose your mind over some flour and sugar. I'm doing us a favour. Preserving our friendship." He cracks an eye open to look at you. "We've been friends since diapers, not because of my mum’s food, but because I'm brilliant and extremely lovable. Get your facts straight, woman."

You toss the napkin at his face.

He laughs.

Glancing at the last piece of the apple crumble in your hand, you ask, "Do you want it?"

James shakes his head, looking fond. "You assault me and then offer me the last bite?"

"Force of habit," you say flatly. "I can take it back."

He chuckles and takes off his glasses, resting his arm over his eyes. "You can have it, love. Cheers."

You don't have to be told twice and pop it happily in your mouth. With his other arm, he sweeps the scattered pages aside and pats the spot next to him. "Sleep with me?"

You quirk a brow. "Trying to get into my knickers, Potter?"

A breathy laughter escapes his lips. "Are you offering?"

"You wish."

"Merlin, yes." He sighs dramatically as if all James Potter has known in this lifetime was the pain of longing. He grabs blindly for you and pulls lightly at the hem of your skirt. "A man can dream. But for now just nap with me, yea?"

You bat at his wrist but let him pull you towards him nonetheless. There was never any other option, really.

In the blink of a moment, you're nestled into James’ side. His arm is cushioning your head, fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as he tells you his thoughts on a book he recently read because he knew you liked it. You listen intensely, enjoying the easy conversation and the sunlight warming your skin. The world feels peaceful, and it doesn't take long before sleep pulls you both into a cosy slumber.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter x you #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders #marauders imagine #the marauders

[nina-ya]

Hey! It's my birthday and I was wondering if you write for Shanks? If you do, could you do a Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"? thanks

Ways That Shanks Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

A/N: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU NONNIE <3<3 I hope your birthday went well!! Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Shanks x reader CW: None. WC: 1.4k

Shanks had a talent for picking up on the smallest of details, especially when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you wanted, even before you had a chance to verbalize it. It was one of the many things that made being with him so special– his ability to read you like an open book.

One day, you two would be wandering through a market on a smaller island. The stalls are filled with various goods and trinkets, each one tempting you in their own way. You walked besides Shanks, taking in the atmosphere of the market. 

As you passed a stall filled with jewelry, a particular piece caught your eye. The craftsmanship was absolutely perfect and you just couldn’t help but admire it. You did not say anything, however, and you moved on from the stall to browse the other vendors. Shanks, though, stayed behind for just a moment, seemingly engrossed in the jewelry himself. Later, the sun began to set, and the market started to close. Shanks led you two back to the ship, and as you were settling down in your cabin, he pulled out a box, handing it to you.

“Got you something,” Shanks said, holding the box out to you with a grin. “Thought you might like it.” You opened the box and found the very piece of jewelry that you’d been eyeing earlier. The piece glimmered against the light, painting soft reflections of the room's light against the walls. You were taken aback, surprised that Shanks had gotten the very thing that you had shown interest in. 

“Shanks, you didn’t have to–” you began, but he interrupted your thoughts with a gentle laugh. 

“I wanted to,” he replied. “I saw the way you were looking at that thing earlier, and I couldn’t resist. Besides, if you really feel bad, I can think of a few ways that you could pay me back.” He said with a playful wink at the last comment. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, feeling lucky that you fell for someone as amazing as Shanks. He always had a way of making you feel special, spoiling you in the most thoughtful ways. You know Shanks loves you when he pays attention to all your wants and needs. - - -

It’s common for the crew to always seek out some sort of tavern when they make landfall. It’s a fun way to down booze while also getting to try the island's local cuisine. You sat at the bar, watching the red haired man on the other side of the bar as he chatted with the other crew members. He naturally stood out amongst the bunch, his voice projecting across the building. You could practically feel the charisma dripping from his words. It’s one of the reasons you fell for him. 

Shanks approached you with a grin, ordering a round of drinks for everyone. He leaned against the counter, elbows propped up casually, turning to you. “Thirsty?” he asked, his voice projecting over the noise of the tavern. 

You nodded, and he motioned for the bartender to bring some drinks over to you two. Shanks picked up the drinks and motioned for you to follow him. He led you to a table in the corner, the seats being somewhat secluded from the rest of the tavern. While the crew was busy celebrating, Shanks was more than happy to hang out with you away from the rest of them

He slid your drink over to you and tapped the two glasses with a satisfying clink that rang throughout the room. While the others in the crew were being rowdy and singing sea shanties, Shanks sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. He keeps you engaged in a conversation, pointing out small things around the tavern and telling you interesting places he wants to visit while you guys are visiting the island. He had a way of making everything sound exciting, even if they are the most mundane things.

He would laugh at your jokes, eyes sparkling with amusement, and he would slightly lean closer to you as the noise grew louder to make sure he did not miss a word you said. It was as if you two were in your own bubble. You know Shanks loves you when he values spending alone time with you. - - - Shanks’ lap is always the best seat in the house during all the parties you two found yourselves in. His arm seemed to always find itself wrapped firmly around you, holding you close. You held a mug of rum, sharing sips with him, because he’d much rather use his one arm to hold you and keep you securely against him. Even when he is telling stories or engaging in conversation with others, his grip never loosens and you often could feel his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Tonight, the crew is gathered around a bonfire on the beach, the hot amber flames flickering, giving light to the celebration and filling the air with the sound of the occasional crackle and pop of the firewood. Shanks is right at home, reciting stories, full body boisterous laughter spilling from his lips. Even when his focus is not on you, you know that you are constantly lingering in his mind with the way he pulls you in just a little closer, whispering an inside joke that has you reeling over in laughter. As always you are the carrier of food and drinks, offering it to him every so often.  As the party winds down, Shanks stands, helping you to your feet, his arm still attached to you. It’s as if the world would crumble if he let go. Even as he guides you back to your shared quarters and into your bed, he still cannot seem to let go of you. There is just something about being in Shanks’ embrace that makes you feel so safe and so loved. As you drift off to sleep every night with his strong embrace cradling you to his chest, you know he will be right beside you when you wake up. You know Shanks loves you when he never lets go.

#Nina Writes~✦ #Nina Responds~✦ #one piece #one piece x reader #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #x reader

[taeyongdoyoung]

end of beginning

summary: your perfectionist self can't settle and wants to improve your grades. no matter the cost... pairing: johnny x reader genre: smut warnings: professor/student dynamic, age gap (unspecified), dubcon, power play, neck-kissing, biting, spanking, fingering, slight dumbification, size kink (duh), unprotected sex, creampie, forbidden relationship, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart) word count: 1.5k

You have never felt so foolish as you do now, standing outside of your professor’s cabinet, waiting for his office hours to start. This isn’t like you at all. You are usually at the top of each class, amazing students and teachers alike with your well-written assignments and outstanding participation in the discussions. You are usually the one that professors praise.

To say you feel embarrassed would be an understatement. You are not used to this, asking for help, admitting that you are falling behind, that your grades have never been worse. But if you want to graduate successfully, you have to swallow your pride and face the problem head on.

You don’t know what it is about Professor Suh’s lectures but you just can’t seem to focus. You try to take detailed notes as you do in your other classes, but you end up getting so lost in his beautiful voice, staring at his pretty face and thinking about his big hands as they flick through the pages that your notes end up being messy, incoherent and awfully inaccurate.

You have tried different strategies such as asking other students for their notes but nothing seems to work. So, in your desperation, you end up here, waiting for Professor Suh to put you out of your misery. You hope that no one else shows up during office hours ‘cause it would be too mortifying if other students find out and start making fun of you for being so behind on the material.

“Oh, Y/N!” Professor Suh exclaims in surprise as he unlocks the door to his cabinet, letting you in. “How long have you been waiting? Usually no one comes to these office hours so I’m a bit late. You should have emailed me.”

You stand nervously, your fingers digging into the tender skin of your already sweaty palms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” you start to explain.

“No, you don’t have to apologize, it’s just unusual. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” he tries to reassure you in his calming voice.

You take off your bag, putting it on the ground and sit in the chair against his. God, you feel so stupid…

“So, what brings you here?” Professor Suh asks.

“You’ve probably noticed but my grades have been plummeting,” you murmur awkwardly.

“Well, if that’s what you call a couple of B’s, then sure, I guess,” he laughs softly.

“You don’t understand…I know other students may be happy with such grades but this is unusual for me.”

Professor Suh looks at you over his glasses in disbelief.

“You do realize that in real life nobody cares about grades, yes?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time,” you reach to grab your bag but he stops you.

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to help you.”

You exhale in relief.

“What is troubling you the most? Is it the material?”

“I don’t know…It doesn’t make sense because I love literature, it’s always come easy to me. I just have a hard time focusing during your lectures, for some reason.”

“Must be my fault, then,” Professor Suh smiles knowingly. “My teaching method isn’t engaging enough.”

“N-no, that’s not what I m-meant,” you stammer nervously. “I’m just…easily distracted, I guess.”

“Oh? Are you like that in your other classes, as well?”

“Not really, no,” you admit, feeling even more embarrassed.

“See? Then I guess I need to improve. Find a way to help you focus,” Professor Suh insists.

“Please help me. I really don’t want to fail your class, it’s very important to me.”

“Is it important to you because you care about your grades or because you don’t want to let me down?” Professor Suh asks staring into your eyes.

The question is so direct that it takes you off guard. You want to look away but you are so captivated you don’t dare to blink.

“I…don’t want to disappoint you, Professor Suh,” you confess. “Your lectures are very engaging and I enjoy listening to them.”

“Do you enjoy the content or the sound of my voice?”

“Professor…” you break eye contact and you are far too gone to think clearly. What is this man doing to you?

Suddenly, he stands up in all his glory, walks to your chair and lifts your chin up with his finger.

“Answer the question.”

“What…what was the question again?” you ask dumbly.

He shakes his head in disapproval.

“Just as I feared. Helping you focus would be quite difficult.”

“I’m s-sorry, I’ll try harder.”

“You better.”

Grabbing a book from his desk, he opens it and puts it in front of you.

“Read. Out loud. Don’t stop unless I tell you to, understood?”

You nod eagerly and start reading.

“We like to think of the old-fashioned American classics as children’s books. Just childishness, on our part.”

Professor Suh starts playing with your hair gently, surprising you but you don’t dare to stop and continue reading to the best of your abilities.

“The world fears the new experience more than it fears anything.”

He is kissing your neck, biting even, eliciting soft moans out of you. How is that going to help you focus?! You feel like your brain is no longer working.

“Keep reading,” he reminds you.

“Cutting away the old emotions and consciousness. Don’t ask what is left.”

Professor Suh makes you stand up and then pushes you down abruptly so that your breasts and tummy are lying on the desk and your ass is up in the air.

“And you can please yourself, when you read the Scarlet Letter, whether you accept what that sugary, blue-eyed little darling of a Hawthorne has to say for himself-” you continue to read, voice shaky and lacking any confidence.

He lifts your skirt up, touching you in all the right places in all the wrong ways. You are so terrified of what is happening but you are even more terrified of stopping to read.

Professor Suh spanks your ass harshly the second you pause briefly.

“N-no, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“Read,” he orders you and you have no choice but to obey.

“They didn’t come for freedom. Or if they did, they sadly went back on themselves.”

Professor Suh takes your panties off and slides his fingers inside your pussy easily, as you are embarrassingly wet. He assaults you vigorously, expecting you to keep reading.

“They came largerly to get away. In the long run, away from themselves.”

“You skipped a few sentences.”

Damnit, how did he catch that?

You go back to the parts you missed but your reading continues to be full of mistakes. Eventually, Professor Suh grows tired of that and takes the book away from you.

“I’m not sure this method is helpful,” he sighs and starts unbuckling his belt. “Might have to find another way for you to acquire knowledge.”

“S-sir?” your voice trembles, though you already anticipate what is coming.

“Stuff you full of it,” he explains calmly and enters you from behind.

You want to scream but you are so afraid of someone hearing that you bite your hand.

Professor Suh seems to notice your concerns, moves your hand away and presses his own against your mouth.

“Shhh, it’s okay, angel, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers gently while doing the opposite of what he’s saying.

He is so big that you feel as if he’s splitting you in half. Miraculously, you are still alive.

“You’re not good at focusing in my lectures anyway so I might as well give you something to remember during them,” he laughs. Oh, he’s so mean. You deserve it, though. For being so greedy. Not satisfied with a B. Stupid girl.

He removes his hand from your lips, trusting you not to make any loud noises.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Why ask now? He’s already gone this far…

“N-no, p-please,” you whimper helplessly.

“No as in stop or no as in keep going?”

You genuinely don’t know what the right answer is. If this is a test, then you’re surely failing.

Apparently, Professor Suh does not care what you have to say. Perhaps it’s your fault for being so slow…He keeps fucking you, going deeper inside of you than any man has ever been. Soon enough, he paints your walls white as if he’s an artist and not a literature professor.

You feel so dizzy, so brainless, so silly.

“Are you alive?” he asks, scooping you up into his big arms.

“N-no?” your response comes out with a questioning tone.

“Take all the time you need to recover,” he tells you thoughtfully.

“Can I ask you something, Professor Suh?”

“You should call me Johnny when we’re alone.”

“Oh, um…Johnny, what if someone had walked in?” you ask fearfully.

“Relax, sweetheart, I locked the door,” he laughs gently.

“Ah, that’s good.”

“Anything else you’re worried about?” Johnny plays with your breasts lazily as you sit in his lap.

“Um, yeah…”

“I’ll write you all A’s from now on if that’s what…”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” you confess teary-eyed. “Was this a one time thing for you, Johnny? Will I have to pretend nothing happened during your lectures?”

He caresses your hair just like how he did when this all started. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like the end.

“Oh, baby, this is just the beginning.”

The End

#nct smut #johnny suh smut #johnny x reader #nct #johnny #johnny smut #nct 127 smut #johnny suh x reader #nct johnny smut #nct imagines #johnny imagines #nct hard hours #nct scenarios #nct reader smut #writing

[daydreaming-paradies]

Genshin Men and Their Flower Language(s)

ᡣ𐭩 Summary: Every flower has its own language. What flower language do these genshin men have?

ᡣ𐭩 characters: Zhongli(150), Childe(151), Diluc(182), Kaeya(141)

ᡣ𐭩 Warnings: Fluff, wholesome, a bit angst in Diluc and Kaeya's part

art belongs to @/eriimyon on X/Twitter

Zhongli

Baby's Breath-Everlasting Love

As a former archon, he has seen people come and go. He had learned to accept it years ago however when he first met you, he once thought that you were out of his league. But you proved him wrong, you took your time understanding him. You were there whenever he talks about his stories even if you do not like history, your attention is always on him. You make him feel loved no matter what he does on a daily basis. Yes in his eyes, you are his silly lover and his one and only. He knows that he will outlive you and he will miss you dearly so if he had any flower to give you daily is baby’s breath because for you, you are his everlasting love. Even if you pass on to the afterlife, you will be forever in his memories and his one true love.

Childe

Gardenia- You're lovely, Secret Love

You are the secret love of Childe. You know that he is a harbinger and you know he loves to battle but Childe for him, seeing you after he got home from a tiring mission had brightened his day. Childe knows that he brings danger and harm to you so he keeps you a secret from his enemies. His family loves you and his siblings love you to death. In Childe’s mind, you are one of the reasons he is still kicking, the reason for him to smile..the reason to come home in one piece. Every day when he comes home to you, he always gives you Gardenia flowers yet you do not know what it means. You bugged him about it until he revealed it. “Gardenia flowers means you are lovely or secret love, mia amata.” Childe says with a smile. “That means you are my lovely secret love.”

Diluc

White Rose-I am worthy of you

Diluc Ragnvidr is the man with few words, a private person, and a man with walls to protect himself from others. To stop himself from being hurt by another loved one's death but with you, all of that is out of the window. With you alone, he is very attentive despite his nightly duties. He always makes sure to put your needs before his own. You both made a routine to give each other flowers whenever you two see each other either in privacy or in private. Your flowers is always the red rose but Diluc’s rose is white roses. You later ask Lisa what the white rose means and you were surprised to say the least. White roses means innocence and purity, you’re heavenly, secrecy and silence and I am worthy of you. Diluc was in a surprise when you hugged him, killing him with your kisses and saying to him. “Thank you, my nightly Knight.” This makes the poor man tear up and embrace you in his arms. You are both worthy of each other. Never let each other go.

Kaeya

Orange Blossom-Eternal Love

Who says that even the broken can fall in love? For Kaeya, it is him. He has been hiding his pain with a sly smile and the flirtiness, hiding the turmoil in his heart. To Kaeya, he thought that he would be alone in this world where nobody loved him nor understand until you came into his life. Kaeya was wary of you at first but after some time, he realized that you did not have any ill motives towards him. You understand him, love him for who he really is despite what others said about him. You make his life worth something and if he had to pick a flower to describe you. It would be an orange blossom flower. Even in a different universe..even if you are gone from his life, his love for you will be eternal.

~Taglist: @areislol @purpleqilinwrites @amxto @yoghurtsan @ryuryuryuyurboat @windblume-wishes @thestarswhisper @the-guardian-kitsune @sanzach @asoulsreverie @inkybloom-luv @ainescribe @kitsuvil @dxmoness @kalims @mccnstruck @dailypenpen @husky-studies

#ཐིཋྀ- daydream’s paradise -ཐིཋྀ #୨୧- daydream’s library #𓏲𝄢 ~ genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #ᰔ- come daydream again #genshin fluf #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #genshin kaeya #Genshin Diluc #genshin zhongli

[onegirlatelier]

April, 2024 | Shetland lace shawl

Hi there! It’s been a while. I’ve been kept busy by all my university work…and this shawl.

The shawl is knitted to celebrate the wedding of my friend (now friends, I should say). A wedding is really the perfect excuse for all the heritage crafts and heirloom projects that might seem too serious to gift in other occasions. I did ask the recipient beforehand if she would like it, though, and I was so, so honoured that I got an enthusiastic ‘yes’. I’m sure this sentiment is shared by many makers, whatever gift they are making.

Shetland fine openwork, a knitted lace, seems to have emerged with the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria, who championed and popularised the craft. It was probably spread from the Isle of Unst to other parts of Shetland. What surprised me the most when I first read about it was that Shetland shawls and other lace pieces were largely exported as luxury items and rarely worn by islanders themselves. Women bought yarn from spinners and knitted mostly in their homes. They then took them to local merchants and exchange the finished objects for goods or (commonly after the 1880s) money to supplement the household income. The ‘supplement’ nature of this work probably means it was not compensated as much as a job outside the home would be for the same hours and skills. Besides, it was not always easy to spin an even 1-ply yarn at 1600 metres per 100 grams. For a piece of knitting with a large ‘plain’ area (i.e. only knit stitches), the unevenness was impossible to hide but could only be discovered after the area was worked. Then the maker had to either frog (unravel) the area or continue with the risk of the whole piece not being able to sell.

Whilst it is very reasonable to point out that Shetland ladies did not usually wear this type of lace (I’ve been to the Scottish Highlands once, in summer, and it was not fine lace weather), I imagine that at least for some, it wasn’t just about making money. Some sort of fulfilment must have been from the satisfaction of having a piece ‘properly done’ by continuing and adapting a traditional pattern, technique or material. I think this sort of satisfaction is also why many modern knitters are willing to spend hundreds of hours on lacework.

Intricate handknitted lace items can still be bought today (a quick search on Etsy would show many are form eastern European countries with a long and prominent craft tradition), but many are knitted for friends or family members. It always makes me so happy to see people share the gifts they have made, whether big or small, simple or complex. I joke with my online craft friends that no handmade fibre project can claim to be so unless they have a hair or two woven into it. It is the proof of existence for the maker, who tries to go against the irregular nature of handicrafts and, at the same time, accepts it. It is about wrapping up hours, weeks or months in one’s life, along with the songs they have listened to and the perfume they have worn and the memories they have made, and putting it squarely in someone else’s hands and saying: ‘All this, for you.’

A Wedding Shawl

I have not read anything about there being a standard form of ‘wedding shawl’ in the Shetland tradition. However, there is definitely a category of square shawls with similar sizes and a few construction methods. The samples I’ve seen mostly measure 1.5-2m on one side and have three parts: a central panel, four borders and a strip of edging. It is worked flat in garter lace from centre out.

Neither is there a standardised yarn weight. A widely available yarn is the Shetland Supreme Lace Weight 1-ply by Jamieson and Smith, which weighs at 400m/25g. The Queen Ring Shawl examined by Sharon Miller used a yarn at 700m/25g. From my experience, if you want the shawl to be a true ring shawl (i.e. you want to be able to pull the shawl through a ring) at the size of the Queen Ring Shawl (210cm on the side), go for 700m/25g or finer.

I chose a rectangular shawl because I had very limited time, but I did enlarge it because for me, an abundance of fabric does mean an abundance of cozy happiness.

Pattern

Shell Grid and Spider Webs Puzzle, pattern No.19 in the book Shetland Knitting Lace by Toshiyuki Shimada.

The names of the motifs are confusing. One motif (or two highly similar motifs) might just have two different names if they are produced in two different regions. Names do not mean everything, but I’ve had fun trying to match the motifs with names according to this article by Carol Christiansen at the Shetland Museum.

The double yarnovers (YO's) in the diamonds were called Cat's Eye, but perhaps the 'Spider Web' in the pattern name is referring to the three rows of double YO's in the centre panel. It has a really simple but effective edging.

Yarn

Mermaid Lace, in colourway #naturel, sold by Great British Wool in the Netherlands. This yarn is 75% merino and 25% sea algae silk. ‘Sea algae silk’ seems to be a semi-synthetic plant fibre like viscose, with algae involved as part of the raw material. (At this price point I don’t think it has anything to do with sea silk, which is fibre produced by actual shells.) The brand name for the most popular product of its type is probably Seacell.

I bought the yarn, because I had never worked with this fibre before and was curious. What I like: it was a little cheaper than a wool/silk blend and has blocked very well. The whole skein was continuous so I didn’t have to deal with a single yarn joint. What I do not like: it lacks the sheen and smoothness of real silk and doesn’t feel as strong, although it doesn’t shed. In conclusion, I’d rather use a traditional Shetland 1-ply or another natural fibre yarn.

It's also worth mentioning that whilst I prefer to support small businesses, it was disappointing to have received a 93-gram skein when I had ordered 100 grams. It was one of those days between Christmas and the New Year and I somehow did not contact the customer service, but I really should have.

Needle

2.5mm 80cm circular needles. See modification below.

Modification

This Japanese knitting book follows Japanese sizing for knitting needles. The suggested size was no. 1=2.4mm. I figured that I could use a 2.5mm since I knitted on the tighter side, and in any case it was probably okay to make the lacework a little more open by going up a needle size.

I am not going to give out the pattern, but it is probably necessary to explain the structure of this shawl. The centre is knitted first, and then an edging is knitted onto it by picking up either live stitches or the vertical edge of the centre as you go (see schematic below). The four ‘corners’ of the edging have short-row shaping to help it lay flat. I know that traditionally people can achieve this by other methods, but I haven’t tried any of those yet.

I enlarged the pattern by increasing both the width and the length. I casted on 133 stitches instead of 101 for the centre panel and knitted Part B 8.5 times instead of 5.5. The spider web pattern in Part B requires the stitch count to be (something dividable by four) plus two, so I made one central increase before the spider web to get 134 and a central decrease after it to get it back to 133. Due to the openness of the lace, the change of one stitch is not visible.

The enlargement meant I had to recalculate the edging as well, because the number of stitches available for pick-up changed. Originally, at each corner you do two repeats with four short-row shaping each. I did 1.5 repeats following the original placement of short-row shaping in order to make the total number of repeats fit the number of edge stitches on the centre panel.

The pattern says to Kitchener-stitch the last row of the edging to the provisional cast-on. It just didn’t make sense because that would be two rows too much (the Kitchener stitch row plus the provisional cast-on row). To make the number perfectly fit, I knitted only ten rows of the last repeat (there were usually twelve in each repeat). Then I Kitchener-stitched the end to the provisional cast-on, following the lace pattern. I am quite proud of this solution because it is completely invisible.

Somewhere in the pattern it said to purl (looking from the right side). It seemed strange because the rest of the lace was entirely garter. I knitted those stitches and so far I haven’t sensed a ‘mistake’.

The pattern originally calls for 45 grams of yarn. I estimated (based on the increase of stitches in the centre panel) to need about 80 grams. I ended up using 86 grams. Besides the inaccuracies in my estimation, it was probably also because I knitted much more loosely than expected as it was difficult to tension the yarn tightly at such a weight. Like I've point out in the Yarn section above, I was lucky not to have needed more than 93 grams.

The original finished size is 53*118cm. I ended up with approximately 70*170cm.

Conclusion

This shawl took about three months of my craft time i.e. one full day every week for three months and many mornings before I had to leave for university. Knitting outside my room just didn’t work because I was a) engaged in some other activities that made it difficult to steady my hands, and b) worried about putting a white shawl on any public surface.

The pattern itself is relatively straightforward. The first difficulty was, of course, to understand the instruction written in Japanese. Google translate was horrible so I had to rely on my knitting experience. Fortunately, much of the text description was also found in graphs and charts. Then I had to get my hands used to the tiny yarn. After that, it was only fiddly when I did the edging, because I had to turn about every twelve stitches, and by that time I was handling a giant cloud of stitches on my lap. It did give me a lot of time to go over my favourite documentaries and films, and the last bit of edging was surprisingly quick!

Traditionally, Shetland shawls could be sent back to the maker for maintenance. I think it only fair for me to offer that too because I don’t want a gift to become a trouble (same as how you do not use non-machine-washable yarn for baby knits).

In general, I am very pleased with this shawl. It does pass the ring test, despite not being a traditional wedding shawl size or thickness. I do have a whole lot of actual Shetland 1-ply in my stash, so I am really looking forward to taking my Queen Ring Shawl project out of hibernation in the near future.

Reference list for Introduction

Christiansen, Carol. Shetland fine lace knitting: Recreating patterns from the past. Marlborough: Crowood, 2024.

Mann, Joanna. 'Knitting the Archive: Shetland Lace and Ecologies of Skilled Practice'. Cultural Geographies 25, no. 1 (January 28, 2017): 91–106. https://doi.org/10.1177/1474474016688911.

#knitting #knitblr #shetland lace #lace knitting #gift-knitting #stories

[lemoncrushh]

Dressing For Revenge 2

I had a few requests for a continuation of this story, so here it is!

Summary: A week after your night with Harry, he calls and invites you to a work-related event which his ex also attends.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), all the good stuff. MUST BE 18+ TO READ.

Word Count: 7.6k+

Read part 1 here

The microwave beeped offensively loud as you changed into your favorite pajamas. Slipping into a pair of fuzzy socks, you sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a large bowl from the cabinet. Movies and popcorn sounded like a great plan for a night in. After the debacle the previous weekend, you’d scheduled this Friday evening for yourself. No parties, no nightclubs, no friends. Just you and a chick flick. And maybe some wine.

Deciding to pour a glass, you grabbed it and the popcorn and made yourself comfortable on the sofa. While laughing at Jennifer Lopez hiding from Matthew McConaughey, you felt your phone buzz. Expecting it to be Kelsie or one of your friends from work texting you, you were surprised to see a different name on the screen.

Hi Y/N. How are you?

Your stomach unexpectedly flipped just seeing your name in print underneath his. You hadn’t heard from Harry since he’d called you that night to make sure you’d gotten home okay. Not that you’d expected to. It had only been a week after all. And of course it was a two-way street. You could have texted him. But you hadn’t. But that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought of him.

Hi, Harry. You texted back. I’m fine. You?

Oh hey. I didn’t expect you to reply right away. Are you at home?

You bit your lip. Was he fishing for an invite? Shaking your head, you typed, Yes.

Mind if I call?

With a half squeal, half groan, you replied, Not at all.

Although you had literally just been texting with him, feeling the vibration in your hand and seeing his name again on the screen as your phone rang sent a new rush through your veins.

“Hi,” you answered nonchalantly.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?”

You chuckled. “You asked me that already.”

“Right. So I did. Um…didn’t expect you to be home on a Friday night,” said Harry.

“That’s because I have a date.”

“Oh?”

“With myself,” you finished, reaching for your glass and taking another sip of wine.

“Oh,” he let out a breathy laugh. He sounded relieved, which only made your heart beat faster. “And how’s that going so far?”

“Not bad. I figure at this rate I’ll be taking myself to bed by midnight.”

Harry snickered harder at your joke. You smiled, happy that you could make him laugh.

“What are you up to tonight, Harry?” you asked.

“Pretty much the same thing, although I’m not sure I’m quite as compatible.”

“No?”

“Mmm,” he sounded. “Am I allowed to say I’m a little jealous?”

You chuckled, though you didn’t really give an answer.

“Which brings me to the reason I called,” Harry continued. “I have something to ask you. A favor, if you will.”

“Oh?”

“You can say no, and I’ll completely understand if you do. I know I said you could call me if you wanted to get together again…”

“Harry, what is it?” you persisted.

You half expected him to say he was horny and lonely, that he wanted you to come over for a quick fix. But you were surprised when he had a different proposition.

“I have a…a thing tomorrow night. A real estate thing. It’s like a corporate dinner where we meet up with the management companies and investors, announce the top brokers and give awards and such. And I was…wondering if you’d come as my date.”

“Oh…” you mused. “You’re allowed to bring a date?”

“Of course. In fact, it’s almost mandatory.” You heard Harry do the breathy laugh again and wondered if he made that part up, or if it was meant to be a joke.

“I see. And…you’re inviting me?”

“I am. I know we don’t know each other well. And you’ll probably be bored out of your mind, and I wouldn’t blame you one bit. It’s just…”

“Just what?” you asked when his words trailed off.

“I didn’t tell you this before because there was no reason to. But my ex is in real estate as well. That’s how we…you know…met.”

“Ah, so she’ll be there.”

“Correct,” Harry sighed.

“And you want me to make her jealous,” I added in a half question.

“Not jealous, really,” replied Harry. “More like revenge. To show her I’m better off without her. Like we did to your ex last weekend.”

“I see,” you said again.

You heard Harry sigh again, then groan. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It sounded better in my head.”

“I didn’t say no.”

“Well, no, but you’re probably thinking it. I swear, I don’t want this to seem like I’m using you. I genuinely like you, Y/N. And I’m very much attracted to you.”

You started to giggle, setting your glass back down on the coffee table.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked solemnly.

“I used you, Harry. Last weekend. In fact, you wanted me to. And now you’re saying you’re not wanting to use me? For the exact same reason?”

“I reckon you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now. Let’s just call a spade a spade. What time is this event tomorrow?”

“So you’re going?”

“Of course, I am. You did me a solid, and now I can do one back. Besides, it might be a little fun.”

“Alright,” said Harry, a smile in his voice. “It starts at eight. I can pick you up around seven thirty, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect. How formal is this, like black tie, or business casual?”

“Somewhere in between. A cocktail dress should be fine.”

“Sounds good. I look forward to it, Harry,” you announced honestly.

“Good. Me too. Thanks for doing this, love.”

After hanging up the phone, you rushed to your closet to pick out something to wear for the event. Even though you hadn’t wanted to let on over the phone, you were beyond excited to see Harry again. This time, you got to be his arm candy and not Luke’s. And unlike with Luke, you had a feeling Harry would only have eyes for you.

As long as his heart didn’t still belong to his ex.

You’d just dabbed on some lipgloss when you heard the buzzer. Pressing the intercom button, you instructed Harry to come on up to your apartment. But when the knock sounded and you swung the door open, you nearly had to hold on to the knob to keep your balance.

“Shit,” you muttered at the same time Harry exclaimed “God damn!”

With a nervous laugh, you caught the twinkle in Harry’s eyes as he leaned against the door jam, his gaze raking over your body.

He looked delicious. Similar to the previous weekend, he wore a silk shirt, unbuttoned plenty to catch peeks at his tattoos and pecks. Over it was a black suit with the jacket open, the slacks fitting him well in all the right places.

“Fuck me, kitten, you look stunning,” said Harry, expressing your thoughts before your mouth could.

You blushed, your hands self-consciously running down your waist and hips. You must have chosen the right dress for the evening. It was a short, fitted, black lace dress with a high neck and long sleeves. You felt like it was tasteful, yet sexy. Harry seemed to agree as he stepped over the threshold and reached for your waist, pulling you to him.

“Wow,” he breathed in your ear. “How lucky am I?”

“Hmm, I guess we’ll see,” you teased, inhaling his intoxicating cologne.

Harry chuckled low. “Is that how it’s gonna be, then, kitten?” You felt his hands travel down to your butt. And you didn’t stop him when he lowered his mouth to your neck.

“Yes,” you whispered as he sucked on your delicate flesh.

“Maybe we should just ditch this party all together and stay here instead.”

“Now, Harry,” you tsked, pushing his shoulders away. “I thought this was important.”

His laugh vibrated in his chest as he nodded. “Indeed. Thanks so much again for doing this.”

Pursing your lips, you winked at him. Then grabbing your clutch, you followed him out the door and downstairs to his car. When he opened it for you, you immediately got a whiff of the expensive leather, an aroma you’d found pleasant and comforting the last time. It reminded you of the smell of his bedroom, and you quickly clamped your thighs together when you climbed into the front seat, the memory of that night in his bed arousing you.

The drive to the venue was quick, for which you were grateful since you couldn’t manage to keep your eyes off of Harry’s hands on the wheel and gear shift, and the way his thighs looked in those pants. He made some small talk, but your mind was elsewhere, almost wishing you’d taken him up on the offer to stay at your place.

When he parked the car in front of a fancy hotel, you gasped. “It’s in here?”

You recognized the place. Well, obviously anyone would. But you’d been there before. Luke had taken you there once when you-

“Well, it only seemed natural,” replied Harry as he turned off the engine, “seeing as the company owns this property.”

Jerking your head, you stared at Harry with wide eyes, astonished. “Oh my God! I knew you were rich, but…oh my God!”

With a chuckle and a gleam in his eye, Harry opened his car door and rounded to your side where you still sat with your mouth agape. You eventually smiled, taking Harry’s awaiting hand and letting him lead you to the entrance and through the hotel lobby to the elevators. A cluster of people were gathered nearby and Harry slowed and whispered in your ear.

“Some of my colleagues,” he explained. “Shall I introduce you?”

“Of course,” you grinned. “As long as you’re not ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Are you kidding?” he smirked, giving your butt a pat before quickly guiding you toward the men.

“Gentlemen!” he greeted boisterously.

“Harry, my good man, how are you?” one of the men broke from the pack to offer his hand.

“Can’t complain,” Harry replied, shaking hands. “How about yourself?”

“Same here,” the man nodded, though his eyes seemed to wander to you eagerly. “And who is this gorgeous angel you brought with you?”

You felt Harry’s hand glide down your back. “Greg, I’d like you to meet Y/N, Y/N this is Greg Hawthorne, Chairman of the Board.”

“How do you do, sweetheart,” said Greg.

“Lovely to meet you,” you smiled, taking his hand though you had no idea what a Chairman of the Board was.

Just then, you were saved by the ding that the awaiting elevator announced, and you and Harry followed the rest of the group up to another floor. More groups of people were gathered there, and down the hall. Harry stopped a couple more times to introduce you to more colleagues. You knew for certain you would never be able to remember their names, but you figured that wasn’t the reason for the pleasantries.

When you came to a large, open, double doorway, you were greeted by another man and woman who welcomed you both to the event. Stepping inside the massive room, you took in the view of what appeared to be a ballroom, filled with cloth-covered tables with fancy centerpieces. At the far end was a stage, a podium erected in the center and a large screen next to it. The chandeliers were enough to take your breath away, and when Harry guided you toward one of the tables, you noticed the gold-leafed placards.

“This is nicer than most weddings I’ve been to,” you whispered to Harry, lifting the placard in front of you that held his name.

Your date only grinned, but you quickly felt a hand on your knee underneath the table. He gave it a nice squeeze, and you giggled.

“None of that, Mr. Styles,” you warned. “We’re in public.”

“Oh, so I can’t even touch you?”

“I didn’t say that. Just be careful. I’m very ticklish. People may get the wrong idea.”

“I see,” he smirked with sexy eyes. “I’ll try to be discreet, then.”

The room started to fill up, and Harry was greeted so many times that you just remained standing. You had to admit, it felt good to be the companion of someone so popular. Luke’s popularity was nothing compared to this. And everyone seemed to be very fond of Harry.

However, after a quick chat with one of Harry’s friends, you felt his hand twist the back of your dress. Taking a step back to keep your balance, you looked at him and noticed how much the expression on his face had instantly changed.

“What happened?” you inquired. “Is something wrong?”

“She’s here,” he said, his voice low but clear.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Where?”

Harry loosened his jaw, then cleared his throat, looked down and scratched his nose. “Right there. Blue dress.”

Scanning the entrance, you picked out the woman. While she was attractive, she was not what you had pictured. Not that you had any point of reference, but she just didn’t seem like someone you would have thought Harry would have been in a relationship with.

“Oh, I see,” you commented, unsure of what else to say.

A waiter came around with a tray of champagne, blocking your view of Harry’s ex. You graciously accepted a glass, and Harry suggested you both take a seat.

“Hello, Harry,” you heard behind you just as you’d turned.

Harry exhaled through his nose before addressing her. “Good evening, Toni. You’re looking well.”

Toni flipped her hair from her shoulder and grinned triumphantly. Then her eyes fell on you.

“Antoinette Bloom, how do you do?” she said, offering her hand to you.

“Y/N Y/LN, nice to meet you.” You tried your best to give the most nonchalant, yet genuine greeting, hoping Harry was pleased. The corners of your mouth began to curve upwards when you felt his hand on your back once again.

“I hear you closed on the MacHouser deal, Harry,” Toni turned her attention back to her ex. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he half-bowed, “it was a team effort.”

“Of course.”

Just then, another tall man appeared, his hand on Toni’s shoulder. “Darling, I found our table over there. I think it’s about to get started.”

“Oh, yes,” she grinned. “Good to see you, Harry.” She merely nodded at you, and didn’t even bother introducing the man who was already guiding her to the right side of the ballroom. You felt Harry let out a long breath.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you assured with a smile.

“Wasn’t so great either,” he frowned.

You slid your hand up his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Could have been worse.”

Finally looking at you, Harry’s frown turned into a grin. Your insides flipped when his dimples appeared and he pulled you close to him.

“She’s got nothing on you, you know.”

“Except history,” you remarked.

Harry chuckled. “C’mon, love. Let’s sit and enjoy this evening. Together.”

“Sounds good,” you agreed as Harry helped push in your chair. “By the way, did you know him?”

“Who?”

“The man she was with. She didn’t introduce him.”

“Oh. Yeah. He’s the uh…”

When Harry paused, your eyes widened in astonishment. “Him? She left you for that guy?”

“Well, no, she didn’t leave me, I kicked her out.”

“Because she was cheating on you. With him!”

Harry covered your hand with his. “Let’s not get into it, babe. Not now.”

With a huff, you sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. What an idiot this woman was! Fucking moron!

Harry chuckled low, making you look over at him. “What?”

“You look like a defiant child sat there like that, kitten.”

With a snort, you sat up straight. “Sorry. I just don’t think she knew how good she had it.”

“And how good is that?” Harry leaned closer, his hand sliding up your thigh under the table.

“Harry…” you mouthed, barely able to get out a breath as his fingers played with the hem of your dress.

“Oh, good evening Harry!” a plump man announced, grabbing the chair on the other side of him. “Looks like Marla and I are at your table.”

“Hi, Tom, how are things?” Harry quickly rose from his chair to shake hands with the man, then with the woman he was with.

“Well, as they say…same shit, different day!” Tom cackled.

Harry laughed, “Yes, indeed.” Then he introduced you to Tom and his wife, Marla, who both already seemed like very nice people.

Two more couples arrived shortly after, rounding out your table. Soon enough, the waiters came around with plates of food. You gawked at the presentation of the scrumptious looking chicken dish in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered in your ear. “I forgot to tell you I ordered the food weeks ago. I hope chicken is okay.”

“Of course, no problem,” you replied.

“Obviously I knew I wouldn’t be here with Toni, but I reckoned chicken was a safe bet.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” you insisted.

“So, how did you two meet?” Marla asked after Tom had made a toast.

Harry looked over at you and you felt your face flush.

“Um…the traditional way,” replied Harry. “At a nightclub.”

“Oh!” Marla giggled when Harry winked, putting you at ease.

Once again, you felt Harry’s hand on you underneath the table. Instead of squeezing your knee, he slid his palm up dangerously, allowing his fingers to rest just inside your thigh. You gasped out a breath, swiftly grabbing your champagne, hoping no one noticed.

Chatter and small talk filled the room until the lights dimmed slightly and the man from the elevator stepped up to the podium. He announced himself as Greg Hawthorne and welcomed you all to tonight’s gala. Then the television monitor came to life and displayed a quick introduction to the firm. While most of it was over your head, you were once again impressed by the company and what real estate it owned. After another quick spiel, Greg introduced the CEO who joined him at the podium, gave a short speech and sat back down at his table. Then Greg proceeded with the awards ceremony, starting with one for another man you’d met earlier.

Having finished your delicious chicken, you placed your fork down on your plate, and dabbed your lips with a napkin. When everyone clapped, you joined in.

Harry leaned over and whispered in your ear. “Bored yet?”

“No,” you smiled. “I’m having a lovely time.”

“Liar.”

“No, I’m not,” you insisted with a laugh.

You reached for his hand then, pulling it underneath the tablecloth, setting it in your lap. You covered it with your other hand for reassurance. Harry beamed at you, then kissed your temple.

Just then, a name you hadn’t wished to hear was announced. Antoinette Bloom stepped up on stage to receive her award, though you’d missed what she’d earned it for. You felt Harry’s body go still next to you.

“You okay?” you whispered.

“Um, yeah. Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m fine.”

“It’s still hard to see her, isn’t it?”

“No, no…it’s…it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Harry, it’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I get it. Remember?”

His green eyes stared at you and you thought you saw them water, but he blinked quickly. Then he pulled his hand from your grasp and reached for his champagne, gulping it down. You looked around your table and saw more sets of eyes, either on Harry or trying to divert their gaze. They all knew. They had probably known them when they were a couple. Suddenly, you felt like a duck out of water, and just as Toni was finishing her speech, you excused yourself to the ladies’ room.

When you made it to the stall, and took several deep breaths, you started talking to yourself. Reminding yourself that you were doing Harry a favor. You were his plus one because he wanted some sort of revenge, or proof for his ex to see he didn’t need her anymore - just as Harry had done for you the weekend before with Luke.

This isn’t about you, you stupid bitch. After tonight you’ll probably never see him again.

After washing up and touching up your lip gloss, you opened the door to see Harry standing in the hallway.

“Hey. What are you doing out here?” you asked.

“Checking on you. You rushed out so quickly.”

“Sorry. Must have been the champagne.”

Harry took two steps closer, enough to reach out and finger a curl on your shoulder. “Liar,” he muttered.

With a sigh, you shook your head. “Harry…”

“Y/N. I’m the one who should apologize. I made a fool of myself, trying to act like I didn’t care she was here. You were right.”

“I was?” you gulped.

“It’s still hard,” he nodded. “I mean…it’s not like I want her back. I don’t really want anything to do with her. Just…seeing her reminds me, you know?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I really am.” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, and you took that as your cue.

“It’s okay. Shall I get an Uber, or…”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Well…um…,” you stumbled. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Oh, God, honey, no! No! I didn’t mean to imply that at all!”

You fiddled with the clutch in your hands as you stared at him incredulously. “I’m confused.”

Reaching for your waist, Harry pulled you even closer. “Baby, I want you to stay. Please. I enjoy your company. And even though this is probably boring you to tears, you look so fucking sexy, I want...”

“What?” you asked when his words trailed off.

“I…” Harry searched down either end of the hallway, making sure no one was within earshot. Then he guided you backwards against the wall. “I wanna eat you up,” he growled.

“Oh!” you squeaked just before his mouth collided with yours.

His kisses were rough and urgent. His stubble scratched against your delicate skin. And you loved it. Gasping for a breath, you grabbed hold of his jacket lapels.

“Harry…”

“I want you so bad, kitten,” he whined. God, that sounded hot. “Been thinking about you all fucking week. Took everything I had in me not to call sooner.”

“Really?”

Just then, two other women started down the hall toward you. Harry straightened up and you pretended to be looking for something in your bag. When they passed and entered the restroom, you raised your head. Harry was staring at you like a tiger about to pounce its prey. When he blinked slowly, you could hear him swallow hard.

“I got a room,” he finally said.

Your jaw dropped. “A roo-, here?”

“Yeah. I know it’s presumptuous of me. But I was hoping…you might…wanna stay with me tonight.”

As he said those words, he moved closer to you, slowly like a dream. Chills erupted down your body, and you found yourself eagerly allowing him into your embrace. His lips met yours again, this time sweet and wet.

“I-I thought…” you breathed between kisses, “when you froze next to me…when she got her award…that you…”

“Shh,” Harry sounded, silencing you with more kisses. “Baby girl…let me make it clear. I don’t want her. I want you.”

You thought you saw the shadows of the women returning from the bathroom, but neither you nor Harry moved an inch. His gaze pierced through you, you melted, and you may have even let out a moan.

“I want you, too. So bad.”

“Good,” he growled, sliding his hand around your neck. Then kissing you one more time, he stood up straight and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Taking your hand, you were halfway down the hall when Tom emerged from the ballroom.

“Harry!,” he said. “They need you in here!”

“What for?”

“Your award!”

Harry cursed under his breath, and you chuckled as he tugged on your hand and led you back into the ballroom.

“There he is!” shouted Greg from the podium. “C’mon Harry, everyone who’s awarded has to get up here.”

Harry snorted, then gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before heading up to the stage. With a cheesy grin on your face, you made it back to your table and joined everyone in clapping as Harry accepted his award. You hadn’t even heard what it was for, but it didn’t matter. You were proud of him regardless, and you planned on showing him just how proud you were later in the room he’d said he’d gotten.

You watched your handsome date as he gave his acceptance speech, the glow on his face. When he was finished, he gave a quick nod and thank you, then began to make his way between the tables. You noticed Toni staring at him, but your grin spread when Harry paid her no mind, and instead beamed at you with his dimpled smile.

“Congrats, Harry!” exclaimed Tom when Harry reached your table. “I was worried you’d either gone or didn’t care about receiving an award. But I see I was wrong on both accounts. Well-deserved, my friend.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

Although Harry’s words were addressed to the man on his left, his eyes hadn’t left yours.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Now?” you half-chuckled, half-gasped.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice suddenly an octave lower.

“Oh, don’t leave yet, you two!” Marla whisper-shouted. “You’ll miss the best part!”

“Best part?” you inquired, eyeing both Marla and Harry.

Harry smirked. “There’s usually some sort of dessert, and they serve more cocktails.”

“Oh. I think I can pass.”

Not missing the tone in your confession, Harry rose from his chair and held his hand out for you. You eagerly took it, giving hasty goodbyes to your table mates, then you followed him back into the hallway just as Greg was giving his final speech, announcing the imminent dessert.

“I have my own sweet, tasty treat,” remarked Harry, patting your ass.

You were mid-giggle, starting to get handsy yourself when you heard a female voice behind you.

“Congratulations, Harry.”

Oh, goddammit, what did she want?

“Thank you,” Harry turned and nodded sharply.

“I always knew you’d make top broker,” Toni continued. “I know I voiced it many times.”

Her tone was sultry as she stepped closer to Harry. Then she placed her hand on his bicep and gave an adoring smile. Your stomach turned and your mouth felt sour as you watched her try to seduce her ex right in front of you.

“Um, no, actually you didn’t,” said Harry.

“Pardon me?”

“You never said that to me, Antoinette. Not once. In fact, if I remember correctly, you used to provoke and torment me by claiming you’d beat me.”

“Oh, that,” Toni dismissed Harry’s accusation with a wave of her hand. “That was just a little game. You enjoyed it, didn’t you baby? You liked trying to rival me. It only made you better.”

Your eyes wide, you nearly smacked her, but you held back your hands and your tongue.

“No, I didn’t enjoy it. And it didn’t make me better. I’m better now because you’re out of my life, Toni.”

Turning away from her, Harry grabbed your hand again and began walking faster. You tried your best to keep up as he led you to the elevators.

“Aw, little Harry is heartbroken so he needed to find a little trollop to mend his ego,” Toni mocked with a sneer.

At that you turned around swiftly. “You’re a horrible person! No wonder he kicked you out!”

“Y/N, please baby-”

“What the hell do you know?” Toni rolled her eyes.

“I know that this man is amazing and sweet and sexy as hell, and you lost out.”

Toni’s jaw dropped open as Harry pulled you toward the open elevator doors.

“I also know that nobody has used the word trollop since the sixties,” you called out just before the doors closed. “The term is slut now, honey.”

When the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, you followed Harry down the hall, your hand still in his until he stopped at the end of the hallway. Then he pulled a key card out of his jacket pocket and slipped it into the lock.

He had been quiet on the lift, his jaw set. You knew he was angry, and maybe even a little embarrassed. You felt for him, seeing just how vile his ex was. You wanted to make him feel better, but only if he wanted the same.

Stepping into the room, however, you nearly forgot what had just happened when you saw the exquisite view.

“Wow…” you breathed as Harry headed for the bar.

“Nice, yeah?” he wiggled his brows. When he poured two glasses of brandy, however, his expression returned solemn.

“Harry…” you began, walking toward him. “We don’t have to do this.”

“What?”

“If you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Who says I’m not?” he asked, handing you a glass.

“Well, I can tell you’re upset.”

“I’m not. I mean…yeah, she’s…a piece of work,” Harry half-chuckled, shaking his head. Then he looked at you. “But she has nothing to do with us.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” he sounded, reaching for your waist with his other hand. “I’m just sorry you had to see that. Cheers?”

You clinked your glass against Harry’s and took a sip, setting your clutch on the bar. He looked over his glass at you and winked. Slowly lowering yours, you grinned.

“So your award was for top broker? What does that mean, you sold the most houses?”

Harry chuckled low. “Houses, hotels, commercial properties...”

“Wow,” you said. “I’m proud of you, Harry.”

“Are you?” he smiled wider.

“Of course, I am. And I wanna show you.”

“Oh. You do.” Taking your glass, Harry set it on the bar next to his. “And how do you wanna do that?”

“Like this…” you said, reaching for his jacket and tugging it off his shoulders.

With a smirk, he shook his arms out of it and tossed it on a nearby chair. Then his eyes sparkled as you ran your hands down his chest and began to unfasten the remaining buttons of his shirt.

Slipping his fingers underneath your jaw, he pulled you into a deep kiss. You moaned against him, letting him know just how badly you wanted to please him. When your own fingers met his waistband, you felt him shudder, a sexy tremble of anticipation as he threw off his shirt. You played with him a bit, letting your fingertips linger along his tattoos after you’d unbuttoned his trousers. Then with a loud sounding of the zipper, you dropped to your knees along with his pants. You heard him gasp out a breath, a tiny one, but audible nonetheless.

You kissed his inner thighs, sweet, tender kisses. Moving up slowly, you reached for his underwear. A low, sexy exhale escaped his throat then, followed by a chuckle.

“Oh, kitten.”

“What?”

“Is this what you want?”

You nodded and licked your lips as his erection sprung from his briefs, meeting you in the face. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat when you took hold of it and wet the tip with your tongue. You looked up at him long enough to see his jaw drop as you enveloped your lips around his hard cock. Then he quickly shut his eyes and inhaled through his nose.

He was big. You knew this already, of course, but having him in your mouth for the first time took a little extra work and finesse. You didn’t think you’d be able to deep throat him, so you did your best with what you had to work with. Lubricating him up with your own saliva, you moaned against his cock while your hand met your lips halfway. Harry’s fingers raked through your hair until they had a good grip. His breaths quickened as he bucked his hips against you, urging you to suck him deeper and harder, your hand to move faster. You obliged to his physical requests until you felt him quiver, then tug harder on your hair.

“Easy, kitten,” he gasped. “Fuck, you’re so good, but I don’t wanna come so fast.”

Clipping your chin with his finger, he gazed down at you.

“Jesus, baby, look at you. So eager and willing to please.”

You nodded, running your hands up his thighs. “Yes, Harry. I wanna please you so bad. Wanna make you feel good.”

Stepping out of his shoes and pants, Harry lifted you from the floor. With his hands cradling your face he pulled you into a deep, wet kiss that nearly sent you back into a pool at his feet. Then slipping his fingers behind your neck, he found the zipper of your dress and tugged it open. Stepping out of it, you let him lead you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I wanna make you feel good too, kitten,” Harry promised as he removed your black lacy bra.

“But it’s my turn, Harry,” you argued, climbing onto the bed and sitting on your knees. “You made me feel better last time.”

“Did I? Is that why you left in such a hurry?”

“I told you why I left,” you frowned.

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hands cupped your breasts as he snuck a kiss onto your collarbone.

“Anyway, tonight is about you,” you continued. “And I wanna show you how proud I am of you. How worthy you are.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, sliding his hand down the front of your panties. “Am I worthy of this sweet pussy?”

“Fuck yes,” you hissed.

Harry laughed, “God, you’re so wet already, kitten. I haven’t hardly touched you.”

“That’s the effect you have on me.”

“Good to know. I am lucky.”

He continued to stroke you, his fingertip pressing gently on your already throbbing clit. Still on your knees, they began to give out just from his touch. You grabbed hold of his arms to keep your balance, a tiny cry escaping your lips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you sure this is about me?” Harry raised a brow, teasing you.

“Yes, Harry. I promise. You just…get me worked up.”

“What do you think you do to me, hmm? Sat there next to me in that tiny little dress, your thighs begging to be stroked underneath the table. Your fuckable ass just waiting to be grabbed by my hands. Your fuck-me eyes batting their lashes at me as if I don’t know what that means.”

“I didn’t know they do that,” you mewled as you continued to ride his fingers.

“Oh, yes you do. And you love it. Just like you love how you’re dripping on me right now.”

“But you love it, too,” you said, trying to turn the tables. “You love how hot and wet I am for you.”

“Goddammit, yes I do. C’mere, kitten.”

The air suddenly felt cooler when he removed his hand from your panties. But the warmth was returned quickly as you watched him lay down on the bed and stroke himself.

“Harry,” you pouted. “I’m supposed to do that.”

“Well then hurry up, baby. We may have all night, but I get impatient too.”

You gave him a smirk, knowing he was mocking your impatience from last weekend.

“Just for that, I may just take my time,” you teased, slowly sliding your panties down your hips.

“Please don’t.”

“What would you do if I did?”

“Make myself come,” he replied cheekily, his hand still on his cock.

“Aw, c’mon Harry, play nice.”

He chuckled low, sending another thrill down your spine. Kicking your panties off of your ankle, you let them hit the floor as you crawled cat-like over his naked body.

“Kitten, you are,” he grinned, reaching for your hips. “Looks like I picked the right pet name.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “And now kitty wants a ride.”

Harry growled as you nibbled on his neck. “Condom’s in my jacket, babe,” he whispered. “Forgot to grab it.”

With a tiny pout, you slid off the bed and retrieved his jacket from the chair, and found the condom in the inside picket. Opening it swiftly, you returned to the bed where you eagerly slipped it on his awaiting cock. Lifting your hips, you eased yourself down slowly with a high-pitched groan.

“Gently, kitten,” instructed Harry. “You sure you’re wet enough?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “You just fill me so well.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Go slowly though, alright. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can handle it, baby. Question is, can you handle me?”

Harry’s chest shook as he laughed, and you slowly began to ride him. When you began to pick up a little speed, however, Harry started to blink, his head tilting back into the pillow.

“Fuck, kitten, you feel so good.”

“I do? You like how my cunt feels dripping on you?”

“Mmm yeah. So fucking warm and wet.”

“You deserve to feel this good, baby. Every night,” you moaned.

“Yeah? You would fuck me like this every night?” he asked, his hips bucking up against you.

“Mmhmm. Anything you want. You’re such a fucking hot and sexy man. You deserve to be fucked any way you want.”

“Ah yes, fuck me, kitten.”

“She didn’t fuck you like this, did she?” you purred as you rode him faster.

Harry shook his head and gulped. “No.”

“You deserve so much better, baby. You deserve a woman who knows your needs. Who worships your cock.”

Though Harry moaned and let out an expletive, he grabbed your waist and tried to hold you still. “Wait…baby…wait, stop,” he gasped.

“What’s wrong?” you blinked.

“I don’t wanna fuck like this.”

“Like what?”

“Revenge sex, angry sex, whatever this is. I’m done with that, aren’t you?”

You stared at him, confused. “But, I thought-”

“I know, babe,” he interrupted with a nod. “But I don’t want this to be about her. Or him. Just us.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you?”

“I…yeah, I guess so.”

Harry’s green eyes stared at you, and though they were still filled with lust, a softer look in them also appeared that you hadn’t seen before. “Just you and me, yeah? I think it could be great.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Good girl,” he grinned. “Now fuck me.”

You slowly resumed your thrusts, your eyes still locked with his. While you tried to continue the little game you’d been playing, the point seemed moot. Something came over you that you couldn’t describe, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were feeling emotional, overwhelmed. But you couldn’t, could you? This was just a hookup, a mutual agreement. There were no feelings involved. Finally, you stopped all movement.

“What’s wrong, babe?” asked Harry, a bewildered look on his face. “You tired?”

“No. It just…it feels different now.”

“Different…good?”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. “I don’t know. I just…I feel vulnerable.”

Harry’s face softened as he sat up and ran his hands up your back. “I know, baby. But it’s okay. I’m here, yeah? I’ll make you feel good.”

“But I wanted to make you feel good,” you said.

“Then we’ll make each other feel good,” Harry smirked. “C’mon love, it’s alright. We don’t need revenge sex. Those two other people…they mean nothing. We don’t have to use each other anymore. Let’s just…live in the moment.”

Taking in a deep breath, you let it out slowly. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? His arms around you, Harry kissed your lips softly. Then he continued down your jaw and to your neck. Inch by inch, you let the tension fall until his soft, pillowy lips lightly touched your shoulder.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” you breathed before you realized it.

“Doesn’t it?” Harry murmured before looking into your eyes. “I want you, Y/N. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten this room. For us. You and me, honey. You’re the one I wanna be with.”

Though he didn’t finish the sentence with tonight, you took it as implied.

“Let’s make each other feel good, yeah?” he continued, pecking your mouth again. “I wanna make you come so hard.”

A low moan sounded from deep within your throat before you started to giggle.

“Does that sound good?” Harry wiggled his brows.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Sounds amazing.”

“Then get that ass up, baby, and turn around for me,” he demanded, patting your behind.

Once on your knees facing away from him, you braced yourself for a quick thrust. But Harry seemed to have other ideas. Instead, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back so that you sat on his lap. Pushing your hair off your shoulder, he kissed your neck just underneath your ear. Then his other hand found your right breast, cupping it and pinching the nipple between his fingertips.

“That feel good, kitten?” he whispered, his breath tickling your flesh.

“Mmm, yes.”

“Good. Now lift up just a bit and bounce on me.”

Doing as you were told had Harry slipping inside you easily just before you bounced back onto his lap, his cock filling you completely.

“Ohhhh,” you gasped. “Fuck.”

“Mmm yeah, babe, do that again.”

With a deep breath, you exhaled as you lifted up to your knees again. This time, however, Harry met you halfway, thrusting up against you as you came down. When you let out another gasp, Harry groaned in your ear.

“Fuck, princess, just like that. Keep going.”

Though your knees were already starting to shake, it was nothing like the nearly exploding feeling in your core. You could feel him fully, all of him in your pussy. And you couldn’t get enough.

You repeated the movements over and over, each time making your toes curl more and more. Finally, you noticed the thrusts weren’t quite as long, as Harry was practically holding you against him, his arm around your waist as he panted in your ear, giving you continuous words of encouragement.

“Oh, kitten you feel so good,” he whined, sliding his free hand down your belly. “I’m so close already. But I want you to come first, alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you close, too?”

“Yes!”

His fingertips slipped through your folds and pinched your clit. Your knees buckled and you almost fell forward until Harry pulled you up. You could feel his wet, sticky chest against your back as he guided you to your climax.

“Easy, kitten,” he cooed. “I got you. Come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel that sweet little cunt dripping all over me.”

“Aaaaaa…” you exclaimed, though it was far from an actual word. “Oh, God! Ohhh Haaarrryy….baaaabyyyyy!!!!”

“That’s it, kitten,” he urged, his finger still circling your swollen nub as he continued his thrusts. “Such a good girl. I love making you feel good, baby.”

With a few more whines and pants, you came down from your high, taking deep breaths and hard swallows.

“Mmm,” Harry growled, then kissed your neck. “It’s not over yet, love.”

You chuckled, placing your hand on his thigh. “I know. Shall I stay here, or you want me somewhere else?”

“I’ll let you pick,” he replied.

“Really?” Lifting yourself up, you turned around to face him. “Cause I’d really like to watch you when you come.”

“You got it, babe,” he grinned. Taking your face in his hands, he kissed you with fervor. Then he rolled you onto your back.

“Are you sore, love?” he asked as he resumed his thrusts.

“Not really,” you gulped. “Only in a good way.”

Harry chuckled, “Alright, good. Cause I want you legs up here.” Grabbing hold of your thighs, he lifted them over his shoulders. “That’s it, kitten. Now, keep your pretty eyes on me.”

You had no problem with that request. His arms around you with your knees next to your ears, you couldn’t do much more than stare at him. And he was a sight to behold. A curl had fallen from his forehead, and he already looked fucked out of his mind. Your entire body was on fire, inside and out. You couldn’t look away if you tried.

Because of his close proximity, his thrusts were short and quick, his cock hitting you in just the right spot every time. You tried your best to keep breathing, though you could already feel yourself teetering close to the edge. And Harry’s grunts didn’t help. He was so sexy, and it turned you on knowing you felt good around him.

“So fucking wet baby, god damn,” he panted. “Can I fuck you like this every night?”

You blinked in surprise until you remembered your words from earlier. With a gentle smile, you nodded. “Yes.”

“Promise? Cause I don’t think I can go another week, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you swore to him, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck, you knew that it wasn’t a lie.

Harry’s breaths quickened, and with a deep groan, he shut his eyes tight. Then with two more thrusts, his body trembled and he gasped in your ear.

“Fuck. Oh, kitten, you’re amazing.”

Your fingers played in his hair as he laid on your chest. You listened to his breaths for a moment until he looked up at you.

“Please don’t leave,” he said.

“What?”

“Tonight. Don’t leave like last time, please. Stay with me.”

After a pause, you allowed your fingertips to draw shapes across his back. Then with a sigh you said his name.

“Hmm?” he sounded, rolling onto his side next to you.

You turned and looked at him, giving him a smile. “I have no intention of leaving.”

With a grin of his own, Harry pulled you close and kissed you, no other words needed.

Hope you enjoyed! Please like, reblog and comment (or even better send me a message) if you did.

tagging: @kathb59, @kahluamystery97, @triski73, @lovebittenbyevans, @chibijusstuff, @angywritesstuff, @indierockgirrl, @i-dont-want-your-sympathy (you are all ones who commented on part 1 so I hope that's okay.)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry fanfiction #harry fan fiction #harry fic #harry blurb #harry fanfic #harry x reader #harry smut #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry reader fic

[fiddleleafedfig]

@wolfstarmicrofic | April 23:rd Teacher AU | Also inspired by this incredible post | 971 words

“It’s because I’m gay.”

Dora’s words had echoed in his head for the better duration of two years.

Two years.

Jesus Christ.

It sounds more clear now that there isn’t an ever pressing haze of alcohol clouding his brain. But alas, he frankly can’t afford to be an alcoholic anymore. He wasn’t even that good at it. A bottle of wine every evening and Remus just turned into a weepier version of his otherwise quite bleak self and watched old rom-coms on tv until he fell asleep on the couch.

But an English teacher’s salary isn’t hefty enough to really support a proper addiction and Remus hadn’t ever been the type of person to steal a car or break into someone’s house just to fuel his habit. With his luck he’d get caught right away anyway.

“This can’t come as a surprise, Rem, we never even had an active sexlife.”

Sure, fine, maybe they hadn’t. But they had been married for years; university best friends turned adult lovers and confidants turned married at twenty five and divorced at thirty three.

The divorce had at least been simple, easy, just like anything else about their relationship. One second she was there, dying her hair in the tub and staining it all bubblegum pink — the next she was moving out and downloading lesbian dating apps.

Remus munches salad from his little packed lunch. He should be planning his classes whilst having lunch — he refuses to, he’d rather sit here all bent-backed and pretend that the salad actually tastes better, that he isn’t regretting moving across the country to get away from it all. That his new life isn’t sinking his mood just like the old one did.

There’s a knock on his classroom door.

Remus looks up from his sad salad. “Come in?”

The door, covered in prints of Shakespeare plays and old illustrations of Of Mice and Men and other English class classics, opens to reveal the knocker.

Sirius has his hair in a bun today, black strands tied back and into a scrunchy that could rival the cheekiest of cheerleaders’. Other than that he is in his usual all black attire, all except his rainbow colored lanyard which holds his keys and the miniature periodic table keyring.

Sirius smiles. It’s all gray eyes that look like they’re sparkling under the hideous fluorescents and can make even the toughest lunch lady blush.

“Hi Remus, is this a bad time?”

Remus tries to swallow the tightness in his throat.

He can’t really deal with Sirius popping by like this, he’s done it quite frequently since Remus’ first week.

“No, not really,” he says, trying to keep his hands from fiddling and his eyes from darting around the room. “What can I help you with?”

Sirius shrugs, careless and relaxed. “I was just wondering if I could borrow your stapler. Seems like mine’s wandered off.”

Sirius drives a motorbike to school.

Remus saw him get off it in the parking lot not too long ago. It felt like the world stood still or maybe moved in slow motion when Sirius removed his helmet and shook his hair out, kitted out in leather. Then his neck got all hot, for some god forsaken reason, and he had to go splash cold water on his face before facing his students in the first period.

So many of Sirius’ supplies have gone missing in the short time where they have worked together.

“Erhm… Yeah, sure— absolutely,” Remus stumbles through sentences as he stands to go fetch the stapler in the supply closet. He turns the little key and quickly looks over the closet, a bit too aware that Sirius is coming closer; if he isn’t misinterpreting the scuff of boots on the floor.

He grabs the stapler, turns around. “Here.”

Sirius is right behind him, right in front of him now. Looking up at Remus with his easy smile and rows of lovely black lashes and… and… and pink lips.

“Thanks, I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done, okay?”

“Yeah…”

Sirius leaves. Remus has to go sit down, he’s feeling dizzy.

“Are you even attracted to me, Rem? I mean— it’s fine if you aren’t. Maybe I’m not your type or something.”

There was always something hidden in Dora’s words, at least in those words. Remus hadn’t come any closer to figuring them out, not even two years later.

He just sits in his darkening apartment, playing those words over and over whilst watching-but-not-really-watching tv. He should really go over to Sirius’ classroom tomorrow. You know, just to make sure he remembers to give the stapler back. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what Dora said those years ago, nothing at all.

In the following morning, Remus dresses in his good shirt and wrestles with his hair for a touch longer than usual. Why? Don’t worry about it.

He goes into work with a determination and anxiety churning in his belly.

He walks up to Sirius’ classroom, a print of Neil deGrasse Tyson on the door, and knocks.

Deep breath.

Sirius opens the door. Light eyes and smiling lips and an overall undeniably beautiful face.

Stapler, that’s what he’s there for.

“Will you go out with me?”

What?! No!

Remus was supposed to ask about the stapler!

Fuck!

Sirius just looks back up at him, glittering eyes and widening smile. He doesn’t say anything.

Remus tries to backpedal. “The stapler — I really need my stapler, that’s what I meant.”

Sirius just smiles. “So I just missed the point two second window of going out with you?”

There’s cotton in Remus’ ears, ringing in his brain. “No— I mean… Wait— Did you want to go out with me?”

Sirius’ smile looks like it’s almost too big for his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #writing #fig’s venturing out into the world of microfics #anything to procrastinate my actual large writing project

[dixons-sunshine]

hi I just wanted to start with I really love your writing its just so good. I do have a request and if your not interested its okay it is angst but with a possible happy ending.

so its a daryl x reader where before the apocalypse r and daryl were together and they ended things right before everything went to shit and then when the group gets to Alexandria r is there and she has kid/s (maybe twins?? boy and girl??) so turns out r found out she was pregnant right when everything started happening so daryl didn't know and idk he like puts two and two together yk? and if you're okay with it can she be hispanic/ latin (maybe that can be one of the reasons they broke up bc yk merl is an ass to POC)

anyways sorry if that was a lot or didn't make sense

anyways have a good day/night much love <3

Two Plus Two Makes Four | Daryl Dixon x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Summary: A week before the apocalypse, Daryl was forced to break up with you by Merle, leaving you heartbroken, but not alone—soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. Now, two years later, you come face to face again with the man that broke your heart, and he finds out something shocking.

Genre: Angst, some fluff towards the end.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope this is good enough to make up for the wait! Please note that I used Google translate for this, so the translations may be incorrect or awkward! Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

—

“Kids?! Ya were pregnant and ya didn't fuckin' tell me?!” Daryl bellowed angrily, grabbing your arm to halt you from walking away from him.

You ripped your hand from his grip. “¡No me toques!” You spun around, furiously pointing a finger in your ex boyfriend's direction. “Don't you even dare put this on me, Dixon! You left. You walked out because you cared more about your brother's opinion than you did me! I'm sorry I wasn't gonna baby trap a man who didn't wanna be with me!”

“I deserved to know! I missed two years of their lives 'cause ya didn't tell me! I could of been there fer 'em, for ya, but ya chose to keep it from me!” Daryl exclaimed angrily, following you as you walked into your kitchen. “How could ya keep tha' from me?!”

“You chose to run to your brother the first chance you got! Four years down the drain in an instant for that racist asshole. I didn't owe you anything after that, maldito idiota!”

Daryl stopped in his tracks, instantly regretting starting up this particular argument. You spoke nothing but the truth. You didn't owe him anything. After all, it was him who walked out on you. He chose to let Merle's judgement get to him and influence his relationship. Hell, if it weren't for Merle, he would have proposed to you. He already had a ring picked out and everything back then, but he let Merle ruin everything. It was his own stupidity that cost him two years of his children's lives.

“Mama?”

At the sound of a small, timid voice coming from behind you, both you and Daryl turned and came face to face with your kids, your two year old twins. Your son, Luka, was nervously looking up at you and Daryl while your daughter, Camilla, was standing behind him, holding his hand.

Daryl was struck by the similarities both children shared with him. They both had his eyes, and his hair colour. They were spitting images of him. There was no doubt in his mind that these two children were his. He wasn't blind. He could see they were.

“Everything's fine, amores. I'm just having a conversation with Mr Dixon.”

Camilla stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with wonder. She looked up at Daryl, a smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Dixon?” she asked, pointing up at him. “Papa?”

Daryl was surprised. He looked up at you in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. You sent him a strained smile, forcing a relaxed look in front of your children.

“I always talk about you. They deserve to know who their father is. Well, who he was before he left me,” you explained, looking back down at Camilla and Luka.

“Papa?” Luka asked as he stepped forward, his blue eyes that reflected Daryl's sparkling with wonder. “Our papa?”

Daryl looked at you for permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You nodded, silently giving him permission. He was their dad, after all, and he had just as much right to have a relationship with them as you, even if he did leave you. However, that was between him and you, and your children didn't deserve to be denied a relationship with their dad because of it.

The archer bent down, looking between Luka and Camilla as they stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, m'yer papa. M'sorry I wasn't here before, but m'here now. I ain't goin' nowhere.”

Daryl wasn't sure how much of his speech they understood, if they understood anything at all, but it didn't matter. The speech was mainly meant for you. It was to let you know that he wanted to be a part of their lives, and there was just about nothing that could stop him from that.

Camilla and Luka, as if having some sort of twin power, both simultaneously rushed forward and into his arms. Daryl wasted no time in hugging them back, somehow managing to pick them both up and rest them comfortably in his arms. It was relatively late, nearly eight at night and well past their bed times, so they rested their heads on his shoulders, making Daryl's heart swell with fondness. They didn't even know him, only having heard of him through the stories you told them, but they already trusted him. And even though he just found out he had kids, he would kill for them.

“We need to talk, sunshine. This ain't somethin' we can just sweep under the rug,” he told you, allowing you to take Luka from his arms to lighten the load. He adjusted his hold on Camilla, letting out a fond chuckle when he heard her yawn and nuzzle her face deeper into his shoulder.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “I know. But let's get these dormilones to bed first.”

Approximately half an hour later, the twins were tucked into bed and asleep. You and Daryl were back in the kitchen, both having a glass of wine in your hands—liquid courage for the conversation you were about to have.

“M'sorry fer leavin' ya,” Daryl broke the silence first, nervously sloshing the liquid around in his glass. “I dun' even know why I did. Merle's opinions should've never influenced our relationship. I loved ya. I still do. I regret leavin' ya more than anythin' else in my life.”

You inhaled deeply, willing the tears away. For two years you had wanted an explanation, and now you were finally getting one. However, hearing him admit that he still loved you, that you weren't stupid for still loving the man who broke your heart, was both relieving and hurtful.

“You hurt me, Daryl,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I get that Merle was your brother, but you should've never let him influence you like that. I had to go through everything alone. Do you know how hard it was being pregnant and fighting for my life against the dead out there? Do you know how terrified I was? I was lucky enough to find Alexandria a couple of days before I gave birth. If I didn't, I would've given birth out there with the walkers. I probably would've died. Camilla and Luka too.”

Daryl felt the guilt gnawing at his insides. He really hated himself at that moment. “M'sorry, sweetheart. I really fuckin' am. I promise I won't leave again. I dun' expect you to give me a second chance. God knows I dun' deserve it, but I promise I'll be here fer ya and the lil ones. I ain't ever gon' let ya down again, I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, something you always did whenever the two of you had a serious talk. “Give me some time, Daryl. I still love you, but I need some time to adjust to the idea of 'us' again. It's been just me and the twins for two years. As far as I knew before today, I thought I wouldn't see you ever again. Just focus on the kids for now, okay? They deserve to know their daddy.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a smile, and he nodded. “I'll wait as long as ya need me to. I ain't ever gon' let anyone influence us ever again, I can assure ya of tha'. And I ain't ever gon' leave ya to raise 'em alone, never.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

¡No me toques!: Don't touch me!

Translations (May be incorrect! Please feel free to correct me if they are!):

maldito idiota!: fucking idiot!

amores: loves.

dormilones: sleepyheads.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[shamrockqueen]

Omega retreat : chapter 4

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, General Discomfort, nothing is what it seems, fluff, heart ache

Word count : 2131

Masterlist

He was very understanding when you asked him to give you time to think about his invitation. It was the turning point you hoped to avoid just a little longer, appreciating instead that you could be just like any other normal girl. Yet, some things couldn't be left on the back burner.

The untouched notification continued to light up your inbox, no doubt just being the website’s way of ensuring their reservation went through and they would be paid.

You turned over to look at your phone and the little banner still sitting at the top that said, “You’ve been invited to reserve a cabin by JAMES BARNES.”

It was fitting that he’d picked the Gold Package, and you had to admit, a sexy getaway was incredibly tantalizing.

Yet, everything felt rushed, and you knew exactly why. You knew you were always going to give in, but ever since that conversation at the hospital, you wanted so badly for every choice to at least be your own. Something you wanted to do, not be coerced by circumstances.

You told yourself every second after you’d logged into your computer, your eyes still heavy with broken sleep, that this was still your decision. Accepting the invite would be your decision, no matter what reason you had to make it.

With one simple click, it was done, a cascade of hearts flooding the screen as their little mascot hopped around with joy. It was cute, yet still a little cheesy.

You set the computer aside before laying back on the bed and letting the small streaks of sun coming in from the window warm your skin. You felt so oddly relieved, yet still so anxious. It was a good start, better than what you had before.

A small ding sang through the peaceful morning, and once again you emerged from your little sheet cocoon to grab your phone from the nightstand. It was a message from Bucky, and he seemed as excited as ever to have gotten your confirmation.

‘Good morning :D’

You smiled at the message, feeling more relief spread through your tired body as you typed back.

‘Morning. I take it you got the notification.’

You watched as those three dots jumped inside the prospective chat bubble before two popped up at once.

‘I did indeed.’

‘You have no idea how happy this makes me.’

Everything he said always seemed to make your heart blossom with a new feeling of warmth. It really put into perspective how tiring all that stress and anxiety really was when it finally started to disappear.

Expressing his eagerness through text must not have been enough for him, as the phone buzzed to life in your hand before you could type another reply.

You didn’t hesitate to answer it, and your belly fluttered at the low rumble of his voice as it sang through the speaker.

“Hey, doll”

“Hi. You miss me already?”

You heard him chuckle softly, probably smiling at the bashful tone in your voice. “I hope I’m not coming on too strong.”

“No! I think it’s really sweet.”

It was nice to have someone care this much about your needs, especially above their own. It was someone who wanted to take care of you at what may well be your weakest.

You hear him clear his throat for a second, shaking the sweet and sugary vibe that the conversation had started on. “Do I have the date right? If not, then I can fix the reservation..”

“No, you remembered very well. I’m actually surprised.”

“I guess I’m just excited.”

“That makes two of us; I’m practically shaking in my boots.”

He laughed back at your goofy little retort, and you giggled nervously along with him.

“I was kind of afraid you’d say no.” His voice seemed to fall again as he spoke, giving you a glimpse of a few insecurities of his own. “Like, maybe I scared you away.”

“As if.” You laughed it off immediately, bemused at the thought that he’d consider himself anything more than the teddy bear he’d shown you.

“I needed some time to take it in for a second. I just felt so much in the moment, ya-know.” You smiled down at the phone as you spoke, hoping you could melt his fears just as he did yours. “Believe me, you're not scary one bit.”

You swear you could feel the laugh he’d let out as you chuckled with him.

He’d talked to you for hours, showering you with compliments as he finalized the details of your trip.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to take that time off? It is pretty soon.” You stepped around your kitchen, looking for a mug to pour some coffee into. Bucky watched your shapely form as it moved across his screen, smiling to himself before you turned back to the phone and caught his eyes wondering.

The conversation had since evolved into a video call, letting you see the actual smile on his face. There would be glimpses of the rough grain in his facial hair and the deepening blue of his eyes, but there were finer details that you couldn’t see.

You wanted to see so much more, and soon you will. That thought alone made you feel so much happier.

He brushed his hair back with his fingers, leaving a thick lock behind his ear and a few strands to fall back across his forehead and cheek.

“I’ll be just fine; help to be your own boss.”

“Oh? Big boss, man, huh?”

He huffed a chuckle before he spoke back, “A story for another time, but I’ll tell you now it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

You gave him a little pout.

“What about you?” He asked, in a clear attempt to redirect the conversation back to the original question.

“Oh, I always get my heat off. It’s kinda like that for Omega’s.”

You were more than lucky to work in an environment that was so welcoming to people like you, and you were sure that your supervisor would understand.

“Makes sense..” You watched his eyes wander from the screen as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. It looked so out of date that it was no wonder why he only used the webcam on his computer.

“Nice flip phone, grandpa.”

He laughed back at you with “gee thanks, doll” before tossing down the bad news. “I gotta go.”

“Awe, already.”

“Yeah, nothing like a work emergency on a Saturday.” You watched him toss the phone on his desk offscreen before turning back to you. “I can’t wait to see you, Omega.”

“I can’t wait either, Alpha.” You felt his eyes shift as you spoke, as if finally hearing you say his denomination so diffidently.

You tapped the red button on the phone screen, ending the call before you turned it off and set it aside.

By mid-afternoon, you’d since decided to knock out a few of your household chores. You were already elbow deep in some soapy dishwater when you heard another familiar ringtone. You fumbled for the dish towel nearby to dry your pruney fingers before grappling with your phone.

You accepted the call and called back a sweet greeting to one of your favorite people.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a few days..” Her concern was sweet, but you were quick to cut her short, not wanting another reminder of the previous incident.

“I’m fine, mom.”

She sighed back, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I know.”

“Any news?” Her voice lightened, truly hoping there would have been an update on your condition and even more so that it was promising.

There was plenty of news, wonderful news that you weren’t ready to break to your worrisome mothers just yet.

Better now than never, it seemed, “I met someone.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t sound happy, and every second afterward that she left you in silence made your once-airy mood deflate.

"He's uh...He’s an alpha.” Your jaw only tightens further as you wait for an answer back. Anything would be better than another ‘oh?’

“Well, that’s nice. W-where did you two..meet?” Her discomfort was never easily hidden, but at least she was trying.

“We met on this dating site, and we’ll be spending some time together soon.”

“I see. So is it a date to a cafe or dinner?”

“We’re going away for...." You struggled to find the words, "...it’s just this vacation rental somewhere quiet and calm.”

“Oh, a getaway. Sounds nice, but... you know your cycle will be coming soon. It’s probably best to be careful.”

“I-I'll be taken care of..."

“Are you sure? I can always be there to take care of you in case of another emergency.”

You felt your stomach tighten a little as she spoke.

“That’s actually why we’ll be out of town.” Your toes shifted along the floor, carting you to the fridge so you could grip the handle to better hold yourself upright.

She didn’t answer back right away, only giving you a weak “you can’t do that.”

It made the blood freeze in your veins, leaving your body tense against the refrigerator. “Mom..”

“Do you have any idea what might happen to you all that way from home?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“The hell you do. You can’t do this. I can’t lose you.”

She seemed to spiral nearly as badly as you did.

“If I go through another heat without a partner, you fucking will lose me.” You nearly wailed as you yelled back into the phone, only to be met with a few moments of dead air.

It made the frantic beat of your heart seem louder and louder. Proof that no matter how calm the waters felt, you couldn’t escape the truth that swam beneath them.

“Sweetheart, I only want you to be safe.”

You knock your head back against the fridge before letting your body slide along the side of it, letting the newly mounting anxieties drag you down to the floor. “I’m not safe alone, mom.”

“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to wait for all this, and it’s not fair.” Her voice was just as weak as yours was now.

“It’s fine; I need to grow up sometime.” You said back, pulling your knees to your chest. You didn’t want to wallow in this disparity anymore; you were so sick of it all. It takes a single thought—a glimmer of hope shining through the dark clouds that have begun to circle around you.

You thought of Bucky.

“B..James’ is nice; I think you’d like him.” You had to quickly correct yourself, knowing his nickname had been sweet to you but could seem silly to others. You still remember the abashed laugh you gave when he first told you.

“I…good, that’s good.”

You knew that wasn’t what she wanted to say, and now you weren’t afraid to say it instead.

“You think you’d like him more if you’d gotten to meet him.”

“I didn’t say that, but yes.” You hear her voice wavering as she speaks. “I’m glad, though, that he’s nice. I hope you have fun on your trip.”

“Thank you, mom.”

“Please be safe, sweetheart. I love you.”

You sighed for a second before telling her you loved her too, and the call came to an end. You were still hugging your knees, nearly curling in on yourself in your kitchen. The floor was uncomfortable, and you finally unfolded yourself and pushed off of it. You missed the careless feeling you’d had while talking to Bucky, lamenting how easily your mood had dipped like a sinking ship.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair at all. Just when you thought you could escape the anxiety, it rounded its ugly head around each corner. Well, this time you wouldn’t be taking it lying down anymore.

You used this new momentum to spur yourself through the house and towards your bedroom. You bolted for your closet, determined now only to look ahead to your chance to get away from it all. You tore through your hung clothes, wanting to find anything that could impress your perspective, Alpha.

You found yourself leafing through more khaki shorts than you’d realized you’d owned. Faded sundresses and worn-out old sandals littered the pile, along with plain cotton panties in contrast to any lacy lingerie.

You still had a long way to go before you truly felt comfortable in your own skin. But certainly, a little shopping could do some good too.

There was a fire in your belly, burning you forward like an angry locomotive.

It will be a cold day in hell before anyone takes this opportunity away from you.

Tag list : @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @animegirlgeeky @matchat3a @darkdemeter @onyxwolf @thebuckybarnesvault

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