#Best C++ Assignment Help

[stellamarielu]

soft

jack abbot x female reader

summary: jack gets injured on his shift and you’re there to help him get stitched up, making it impossible for him to ignore the soft side you bring out in him— especially when it makes his heart rate jump alarmingly high.

content: just a whole lot of fluff, reader is a resident on robby’s shift and jack has a capital c crush, i’m talking down astronomically bad, cursing, lots of cheesy banter between robby and jack bc i couldn’t help myself, reader is described to be upbeat and positive, very sunshine x grump coded, also the reader wears bright colors and patterns from time to time [sorry if that’s not your jam it just has to be that way for the plot, you get it], mentions of a brief altercation, mentions of blood and stitches, bad medical terminology [don’t yell at me i tried my best]

word count: 3.5k

author’s note: ok so hi this is my submission for the A DOCTOR A DAY event! but it's also a request from the lovely and talented @letsgobarbs so I thought I'd put them together and make this bad boy. thank you loops for the extraordinary idea, and thank you to my lovely babies, @clubsoft @ananonymousaffair and @letsgobarbs for putting on such an incredible little event! very very excited to see all the entires! my assigned dialogue was, “nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” and the color i got was green!

A reoccurring psych patient, and an elbow straight to the eye, landed Jack a seat in his own emergency department.

“I’m fine,” his voice came out with a twinge of annoyance, and a profusion of frustration as he side-eyed Robby from across the room.

But he was indeed, not fine. He was annoyed— borderline livid— at the current situation.

He should be on his way home, not sitting in an open treatment room with blood trickling down the side of his face.

It was completely unintentional, just an unstable patient throwing limbs in an effort to avoid an IV. What he thought would be his last case of the day, was now the reason for his friend making jokes at his expense, while Jack waited to get his brow sutured up so he could finally go home. 

“Yeah Okay. Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” Robby’s voice filled the room as he gathered supplies for the simple procedure.

“If Gloria found out you got a work related injury and walked out of those doors without somebody clearing you— on my shift? She’d have my neck.”

“Whatever, just make it fast.” 

All Jack could think about was how last night’s shift felt like the longest one he’d worked in a while. Taking a hit straight to the face was just the cherry on top of a dreadful night. The comfort of his bed was starting to look unbelievably far away as his presence at the hospital persisted long after it was supposed to.

“What’s the rush? You got a hot date I don’t know about?” Robby’s expression was a little too amused for Jack’s taste, as he placed a pulse oximeter on his finger.

“Yeah actually, her name is a breakfast bagel from Cal’s and 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.” Jack stared down at the contraption sitting on his pointer finger, almost chuckling to himself at Robby’s commitment to care.

“A pulse ox? You’re really serious about this whole Gloria thing huh?”

“Yeah she’s been on my ass lately. Plus you got hit pretty hard, gotta make sure you don’t go down on us. Your risk for a heart attack is only going up with your age.” The smug curl of Robby’s lips as he pulled at the latex of his glove, made Jack instinctively roll his eyes.

Before Robby could start stitching, Dana’s voice carried into the room as she passed by the open door, “Robby, we’ve got a motorcyclist coming in. Multiple open fractures, severe blood loss with trauma to the head, and a possible pneumothorax, about 3 minutes out.” 

Robby shot Jack a knowing look as if to say, sorry buddy, duty calls.

“Oh c’mon, you’ve got this in three minutes.” Jack was desperate to get out of the hospital and on his way home. He was right, they both knew Robby was more than capable of lacing up two or three quick stitches before he was needed on the incoming trauma.

“As much as I would love to sit here and miss potentially the best case of my day to be ridiculed by you, I’m gonna have to make your fucked up eyebrow somebody else’s problem. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you in good hands.”

The sudden smirk Robby shot his way, had confusion clouding Jack’s mind. It wasn’t until the smug attending was calling out your name, that Jack understood the motive behind Robby’s words.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me.” The murmured annoyance from Jack’s lips sent Robby chuckling.

The laugh was no doubt caused by the memory of a shared confession over a couple of beers not more than three weeks ago.

Jack and Robby went out for drinks on their day off. It was a regular occurrence, but that specific night was a little different, because that night, Jack let it slip that he thought you were pretty. 

The men were sat side by side at the bar, recounting some of their best cases of the week, when Robby brought up your impressive intubation record.

Jack’s comment on your abilities had Robby stunned into a quick moment of silence.

“Pretty and she knows how to clear an airway.”

It was a subconscious declaration of affection from Jack, spoken into his glass as he took a sip of beer. 

A meek confession that Robby clung to, because he’d always noticed it— the way Jack’s stare lingered a little too long on you in those fleeting minutes when your shifts overlapped.

It was impossible for him to miss his friend’s not-so-subtle flirting when you were around. He’d been patient, waiting for Jack to bring it up first.

“Just your type.”

Robby’s words met Jack in the same way, stumbling off his lips and into his glass before taking a swig.

You were one of Robby’s residents. One of his favorites actually. A phenomenal doctor, always one step ahead of everyone else and charting your own course without having to be told what to do, it made Robby’s life a whole lot easier. What didn’t make Robby’s life easier? Watching his best friend dance around his undeniable attraction to you. He knew better than anyone that Jack had been out of the game for a while.

In fact, he hadn’t seen him show interest in anyone until you came along. Over the three months of shy smiles and round-about compliments paid to each other in passing, you and Jack's interactions had become impossible for Robby to ignore. He'd even tried bringing them up multiple times to see if Jack would admit to having a crush on you, only for him to jokingly brush it off every time.

“You could ask her out, you know?” Robby kept nursing his drink, trying to look nonchalant because the moment he put too much attention on the topic, he knew Jack would shut it down. 

“Yeah, we’re not doing this.”

And there it was, right on cue. Shut it down, and brush it off, like he did every time.

“Oh come on Jack. She’s great, you’re great, I see the way your demeanor changes when she's around.”

“Oh does it now?” Deciding to indulge in Robby’s incessant need to meddle in his lovelife, Jack fed into his friend’s accusation with raised brows and chuckle on his lips. 

“Yeah you get a little softer.”

“And, what makes you think I’m not just tired after a long night of people griping at me.”

Robby let a brief blanket of silence fall over the two of them before adding one final thought to the conversation.

“Nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” Robby smiled as he said it. He knew Jack would give him a hard time for saying something so introspectively cheesy, but he also knew it would resonate with him whether Jack chose to admit it or not. 

“I’m sorry?” Jack nearly choked on his IPA at the abnormally poetic words leaving Robby’s mouth. 

“Did you just pull that right out of your ass or what?” He was giving Robby a hard time, but couldn’t deny the truth hiding in the statement. 

That night he went home and lost more sleep than usual thinking about you— playing out past conversations over and over again in his mind, just to hear you say his name, or to see the captivating curve of your lips. The visions kept him up, even if it was just glimpses of you in his memory.

Robby didn't bring up Jack's comment about you after that night.

A few lingering stares and silent chuckles slipped from him when he watched the two of you interact, but he decided against bringing up that specific conversation. He knew Jack would just dismiss him, and keep to his stubborn reservations when it came to you, so he didn't push. 

This was the first time Robby took a chance, venturing into the territory of Jack’s confessed feelings. The timing was impeccable, with him needing to find someone else to do Jack’s sutures. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to force the two of you to be alone in a room together. 

“What can I say? I like watching you squirm,” a low giggle remained on his lips as Robby aimed his words at Jack, just before you appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

Soothing with a gentle glimmer of energy, your voice flooded the room in mellow twilight and shimmering stars, hitting Jack’s ears in a way that instantly made his face heat up.

“Dr. Abbot here, took an elbow straight to the face first thing this morning. I was gonna stitch it up, but they need me on the incoming trauma.” Robby barely looked your direction as he spoke, but Jack couldn’t take his eyes off you, only a few feet from him, watching from the doorframe.

“Think you can handle it?” Robby glanced over at you as he joked, a grin stretching across his face.

“I’ve got it covered, boss.” You matched his playful tone, and the whimsical change of your voice made Jack’s eyes divert to the ceiling because— fuck Robby for doing this to him. 

“Make sure to keep an eye on his vitals, he took a pretty hard hit.” Robby’s voice carried from down the hall as he walked out of the room, leaving you and Jack alone.

You took to the space in front of Jack. 

Your body slid so effortlessly next to him, that he had to fight not to adjust his position under the sudden nervousness of having you so close. 

Drawing a quiet breath at the feeling of your thigh resting next to his, he sat still on the edge of the cot. You were on his right side, your left leg gently pressed against him as you leaned closer toward his body to get a good look at his face.

“Damn that’s bad. Someone really had it out for you this morning, huh?” Your fingertips barely touched his temple as you examined his forehead. An audible swallow pushed down his throat at the contact.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing, his body’s immediate response to your touch, or the fact that he’d nearly been taken out by a patient, and you were the one witnessing him in such a vulnerable position. 

“Yeah well, he had a really effective defense response. I'll give him that.”

Thank god his voice didn’t betray him. His words came out clear and concise, despite the fluttering in his chest at your body right next to his.

Then you laughed. 

He really loved your laugh. In fact, he went out of his way to make jokes just to hear it. It was soft, but rich. The kind of distinctive, infectious sound you could hear in a crowded room ten years later and know exactly who it belonged to. 

“Well, I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of it.”

The laughter fizzled from your voice and was replaced with genuine concern as you cleaned his brow. The gentle passes of gauze against his forehead made his mouth go dry, only because he knew it was your fingertips behind the motion.

“Somebody’s gotta take one for the team.” His response was quick as he focused on the words leaving his mouth, trying not to think about the way your hands were working so carefully to take care of him.

Your presence made him nervous enough, but your touch? He couldn’t get a handle on the distraction of your fingers on his skin, even if there was a veil of latex and gauze in between.

You bent further forward into his body, the warmth of your thigh pressing harder against his as your hands carefully angled his head where you needed it, fingertips underneath his jaw, and at his temple. He forced his stare to the floor out of fear that looking into your eyes would send him straight into cardiac arrest.

Looking down at your shoes, he memorized the pattern of your laces to keep himself from thinking about the mildly intoxicating scent radiating from your body. He’d never been this close to you before— close enough to get a whiff of something fresh and so distinctively you.

Maybe it was your shampoo, or laundry detergent? Perfume perhaps?

Shoes. Back to your shoes. It was the same pair of white sneakers you wore most days, but the green socks peeking out at your ankles made him grin. A subtle smile that he was sure you wouldn’t notice as you prepared a needle at your fingertips. 

You always wore a pop of color, something to bring your own personal style into the doldrum of the ER.

It was something he shouldn’t have noticed; the patterned shirts you sometimes wore under your scrub top, the red hair tie you left on your wrist every so often, the memorable collection of colorful socks you constantly sported with your tennis shoes…

The subtle excitement of your accessories matched the bright charisma you brought into the building every time you walked through the doors. You appeared every morning like his own personal ray of sunshine, equipped with an irresistible laugh, sweet smile, and lime green socks. 

“Are you feeling okay?” His sock induced trance was broken at the sound of your voice— abrupt and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good.” His eyes peered up only to notice your stare fixed on the pulse ox resting on his finger.

He almost forgot about it entirely, busy with the distraction of your proximity taking over his entire being.

“Your heart rate is just really high.” 

Of course it was. 

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest from the moment Robby called out your name earlier. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to move his hand further from your view, hoping to brush it under the rug, and get a move on with the mortifying interaction. 

“Are you sure? If he hit you hard enough to break skin maybe-”

“I promise. I’m fine.” He pulled out a tone in his voice that people usually didn’t argue with. It was a deep, commanding timbre that he had perfected over the years. It came in handy when he had an especially combative patient, or in this case an extremely beautiful woman hounding him for an incredibly humiliating confession as to why he couldn’t get a grip on his bodily reaction to her presence. 

“Whatever you say, Dr. Abbot.” Finally giving up the fight, you let a spirited air back into your words. Jokingly dismissing your concern, and trading it in for weary trust as you let him convince you that he was okay despite his alarmingly high heart rate. 

“But if you go AFib on me…” 

“I won’t,” his voice still held the same robust sound as he looked you straight in the eyes.

“Just stress.” He looked at you as he spoke, and the desperation in his eyes contradicting the tone of his voice.

His stare was tender, and almost pleading while his words spread through the room, sturdy and sure. 

“Or adrenaline or something… I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look away as he continued explaining the reason for his quickening pulse. You found it slightly unnerving, and undeniably endearing as he kept his eyes fixed on yours for far too long. His words began to trail quietly, slowly losing their robust momentum. 

Jack was in a complete daze. He made the mistake of looking up into your eyes, and now he was stuck, getting lost in the all too familiar color, illuminated by the concentration in your gentle stare. He was enamored.

“Well I’ll be quick so you can get out of here.” You reached down to grab some supplies before bringing your hands back up to Jack’s face, finally starting to suture his brow. 

“Although I’m sure Robby would’ve been done by now.” Your eyes zoned in on his injury, while Jack’s stare stayed trained on your face. 

“Eh, I’m glad you’re here and not him.” His voice was amiable and subdued, dripping with a delicate sound you’d never heard from him before. 

“Why’s that?” Still watching the careful work of the needle threading at his forehead, your eyes narrowed in focus, as the question formed on your lips.

“I’d have to deal with his smartass jokes. Plus, he’s too perky in the mornings.”

“And I’m not?”

He wanted to laugh at your question. Of course you weren’t too perky in the mornings. You weren’t too anything. You were perfect. 

“I don’t mind it when you are.” Your movements paused for a split second when the words left his mouth in that same strange, fragile tone.

You could feel his eyes watching- peering up, as you tried your best to keep your attention on your hands.

He felt you stop, internally panicking that he’d said something wrong, he kept talking. 

“I just- you’re different.” The words stumbled out, losing a bit of their fragility as they tripped over each other in an effort to reassure you. 

Your brows furrowed slightly at the word and Jack was convinced he’d just dug a deeper hole to bury himself in. 

“Different?” The one word question left your lips as they struggled to withhold a smile. 

You were amused at the way Jack was fumbling over his words.

It was rare to catch him in such a flustered state. You chalked it up to the fresh wound he’d just received, and his abnormally high heart rate that he really should be paying more attention to. 

“Pleasant.” 

Then you stopped. Longer this time. It must’ve been at least 30 seconds that your fingers paused their threading, as you glanced down at the pulse ox between sutures. Sure enough his heart was racing again.

110 bpm.

You would be concerned about his inevitable descent into a questionable cardiac rhythm if it weren’t for the way his eyes were fixed on yours. His stare was so deliberate, you could feel your own pulse quickening underneath the growing heat of your skin. 

“Pleasant? How so?”

112 bpm.

“You just have this way of making everyone happy. It’s subtle. You’re always smiling and positive, but it’s never performative, it’s just who you are.”

A warmth spreads through your body at the compliment, rolling like waves as each of his words washed over you, completely enveloping you in a state of coy flattery. 

“You’re just easy to be around.” 

The heat threatened to reach your face, as he continued talking. His words were nearly a whisper with his voice floating up to you, low and smooth. 

“I like being around you.” 

115 bpm.

You open your mouth before you’ve even decided how you want to respond to Jack’s innocent confession, then unexpectedly, a voice that’s not yours fills the room.

“Still not done in here?” Robby came barreling into the room. His presence was loud and boisterous compared to the sheepish exchange taking place between you and Jack.

He stopped a few feet into the room. Seeing your body so close to Jack’s, with your hands still working at the injury on his forehead, and your eyes locked on each other, seemed to make him apprehensive about continuing into the room, like he was interrupting something.

“Jesus, let the man go home.” His chuckle echoed around you as he decided to come closer, inspecting your work. 

“That was fast. What happened to that being the best case of your day?” Jack piped up from underneath your touch. He was careful not to move his head as he aimed his question at Robby, eyes averting to the man standing next to you. 

“Yeah, it went south pretty quick.” Robby’s voice finally found a level close to silence, as he watched in concentration while you tied off the last stitch. 

“You need some help there? I could send in one of the medical students-” He joked looking over at you. He knew you were quick. The way you were taking your time, being overly methodical with Jack, was out of character for you. 

“Very funny. I’m done.” You softly glared over at Robby as you took a step back, pulling your gloves off.

“See what I mean about the smartass jokes?” Jack’s eyes were on you, still holding a lingering softness from your unfinished conversation just moments prior. 

“Oh so I leave you two alone for a few minutes and you just use it to talk bad about me?” Pretending to be offended, Robby scoffed at the notion of you two discussing his comedic timing, watching as you and Jack just stared at one another.

“Something like that.”

Your response was hidden behind a smile while you and Jack stayed submerged in a brief moment of smitten eye contact and unquestionable curiosity, before you made your way to the open door.

“I’m gonna get back out there. Try not to take anymore elbows to the face Dr. Abbot,” You joked before taking a single step into the hallway, turning your back for a split second to look at him one last time.

“and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that, you were already halfway down the hall, onto the next patient.

Robby stared at Jack with a goofy smile forming on his mouth as your absence left the room silent.

“Don’t.”

The single word snapped from Jack as he brushed past Robby, leaving the room before he could be hit with his friend’s smug confrontation.

He left for the day, but not before stopping by the triage desk on his way out, purposefully walking past you just to get one last glimpse of your smile for the day.

the pitt masterlist

[jonsrolling]

i have about 10 missing assignments i need to do bc my procrastination is kicking my ass rn and i don’t ever reflect on that fact until past 11pm but also the melatonin is calling for me and i love to sleep‼️

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[communistkenobi]

(taken from a post about AI)

speaking as someone who has had to grade virtually every kind of undergraduate assignment you can think of for the past six years (essays, labs, multiple choice tests, oral presentations, class participation, quizzes, field work assignments, etc), it is wild how out-of-touch-with-reality people’s perceptions of university grading schemes are. they are a mass standardised measurement used to prove the legitimacy of your degree, not how much you’ve learned. Those things aren’t completely unrelated to one another of course, but they are very different targets to meet. It is standard practice for professors to have a very clear idea of what the grade distribution for their classes are before each semester begins, and tenure-track assessments (at least some of the ones I’ve seen) are partially judged on a professors classes’ grade distributions - handing out too many A’s is considered a bad thing because it inflates student GPAs relative to other departments, faculties, and universities, and makes classes “too easy,” ie, reduces the legitimate of the degree they earn. I have been instructed many times by professors to grade easier or harder throughout the term to meet those target averages, because those targets are the expected distribution of grades in a standardised educational setting. It is standard practice for teaching assistants to report their grade averages to one another to make sure grade distributions are consistent. there’s a reason profs sometimes curve grades if the class tanks an assignment or test, and it’s generally not because they’re being nice!

this is why AI and chatgpt so quickly expanded into academia - it’s not because this new generation is the laziest, stupidest, most illiterate batch of teenagers the world has ever seen (what an original observation you’ve made there!), it’s because education has a mass standard data format that is very easily replicable by programs trained on, yanno, large volumes of data. And sure the essays generated by chatgpt are vacuous, uncompelling, and full of factual errors, but again, speaking as someone who has graded thousands of essays written by undergrads, that’s not exactly a new phenomenon lol

I think if you want to be productively angry at ChatGPT/AI usage in academia (I saw a recent post complaining that people were using it to write emails of all things, as if emails are some sacred form of communication), your anger needs to be directed at how easily automated many undergraduate assignments are. Or maybe your professors calculating in advance that the class average will be 72% is the single best way to run a university! Who knows. But part of the emotional stakes in this that I think are hard for people to admit to, much less let go of, is that AI reveals how rote, meaningless, and silly a lot of university education is - you are not a special little genius who is better than everyone else for having a Bachelor’s degree, you have succeeded in moving through standardised post-secondary education. This is part of the reason why disabled people are systematically barred from education, because disability accommodations require a break from this standardised format, and that means disabled people are framed as lazy cheaters who “get more time and help than everyone else.” If an AI can spit out a C+ undergraduate essay, that of course threatens your sense of superiority, and we can’t have that, can we?

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[mallowsweetmiri]

Need you to continue Best Friend! Fred please… PLEASE… I am begging on my knees… You write so well… I will be waiting right here… Oh how I yearn for Best Friend! Fred…

Merry Christmas sluts ❤️

—————————————————————————

Bestfriend!Fred with no boundaries teaches you how to have sex pt 2

summary: its the day after you asked Fred to teach you about sex, and he's keeping up on his promise.

warnings: smut, cursing

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It wasn’t unusual for you to think about Fred first thing in the morning. You often walked to breakfast with the twins and saw him within your classes on a daily basis. But it was unusual to wake up with your panties completely soaked while thinking about him. Was this something that happened the morning after, or did you just not shower well enough after last night?

Either way, you ended up taking a very cold shower before breakfast. By the time you came down to the common room, Fred and George were waiting by the couches. Fred smiled as he watched you come down the stairs.

“Good morning, lovely,” Fred said as you approached them. He pulled you under his arms as the three of you started towards the exit.

“Good morning,” you smiled, happy to start another day by your best friends side.

“What am I, a flobberworm?” George scoffed sarcastically from behind. You rolled your eyes playfully and looked back at him.

“Good morning to you too, George,” you teased, walking through the portrait hole. The day seemed much brighter in the halls, and it looked surprisingly nice out. The three of you walked into the Great Hall and sat down where you normally did, next to Hermione usually at this time of the morning.

"Good morning," she chirped, her head buried in a book.

“Morning, Hermione,” you greeted, taking a seat.

“Whatcha reading there?” The twins sat on the other side of the table.

“Ancient Uses of Mystic Herbs,” she replied, sitting up straighter and flipping her book up to show the cover. “Trying to find something that could help Harry.” You hummed in interest as Hermione sank back into her book. George pulled out a paper and began writing at the bottom.

"What’s that?" you asked, buttering your toast. George smirked and gave you a funny look.

"The Herbology assignment that's due today?" George said questioningly, raising his brows at you. Your brows shot up in response as you remembered the blank paper in your bag.

"I completely forgot about that assignment," you gasped. "Fred, can I please, please copy yours?" You pleaded, sticking your bottom lip out in persuasion. He shot you back an amused look as he gathered sausages onto his plate.

"Y/N, you're usually such a good student,” he teased, shaking his head at you in disapproval. “Were you distracted yesterday?” You sharpened your eyes at him and he laughed, passing you his paper. You felt your cheeks heat up. At least he was letting you copy off of him.

"You're too nice to her, Freddie," George joked, shaking his head at him.

"Ah, it's the least I can do for my best friend," Freddie grinned, leaning over the table to pinch your cheek. You batted his head away and started furiously copying his work, ignoring George laughing at you. As you copied his work, he filled your mug with tea. Earl grey with a dash of cream, just the way you liked it. By the time breakfast was over, you had finished the assignment and were off to your first class of the day.

The day dragged on per usual. In Herbology, Fred and George rubbed sneezewart on the observation sheets causing multiple students to rush out of class in a fit. You had a few classes without Fred and George, and Ancient Runes was your final class for the day. You stared out the window as dull clouds began to roll in from the forest. You tried to pay attention to Professor Babbling, but her droning voice quickly became background noise. The clouds came in closer to the castle, the sound of thunder rumbling through the windows. Rain storms always made you feel cozy, and you wished class would end so you could curl up in your favorite jumper. It was Fred’s Gryffindor sweatshirt and the memory of its smell reminded you of yesterday. His skin had been so close to you, and while it was comforting, there was something else. A want, a yearning to just press your hips against his. Your head snapped away from the window as your peers began to gather their belongings. You began to do the same, noting the slickness between your thighs. There it was again. You needed to find Fred and ask him what you should do about it. Was it pathetic that you knew virtually nothing about sex? You slung your bag over your shoulder and left the classroom, moving hastily towards Gryffindor. You knew Fred wouldn’t judge you and would actually teach you, that’s why you had asked him in the first place. But would he pity you for barely knowing anything at all?

By the time you got to the tower, it was pouring outside. There was the usual chatter and rough housing in the common room, but your failure to spot Fred had you climbing the stairs to his dorm. You were frustrated and cold and you just wanted to be near your best friend.

When you opened the door after a hurried knock, you were happy to see only Fred in the room. He was laying on his bed reading his book.

"Hi Y/N," he greeted, looking up from his book. "How was class?" You huffed as you moved towards his closet, pulling his hoodie out and slipping it on over your head.

"It was terrible," you pouted, coming over to his bed. Fred put his book down and opened his arms to you. You fell gladly into his chest.

"Why was it terrible love?" Fred mumbled into your hair. You groaned and buried yourself deeper into him.

"It's just..." you hesitated, always losing the courage to talk about stuff like this.

"Is it about yesterday?" Fred asked, his hand petting the back of your head. He always knew what you were thinking and you were relieved that he had caught on.

"Yes," you fussed, sitting up from his grasp. Fred huffed out a chuckle and followed suit. "It's just that, I can't stop thinking about it, y'know?"

"Oh, I know," Fred mumbled. You continued on with your ramblings.

"It's like I'm in class and I'm just distracted," you explained, your hands gesturing wildly. "And my underwear has been wet for hours. How do I make it stop?" Fred swallowed and dropped his gaze to your skirt.

"Darling, it's not something you can just stop," Fred explained, his eyes coming back up to yours. "Your body just wants more." You pursed your lips as you pondered this for a second, listening to the rain pelt against the window. Maybe you really did want more...

"I want to go all the way," you declared, sitting up straight and nodding your head. Fred couldn't help but smiled at your naivety.

"You want to go 'all the way'?" Fred chuckled, teasing your choice of words. He found this entire situation charming.

"Yes," you huffed defiantly. "I want you to have sex with me." Fred chuckled in disbelief and ran his hands through his hair. Your bold innocence made his head spin.

"It's going to hurt," Fred warned, trying his best to properly inform you before you made the decision to lose your virginity. He wouldn't be able to say no to you.

"Okay," you nodded, your fingers playing with the hem of your sock. "What else?"

"You might bleed," he said. "And it might not feel good at all this time." Your brows furrowed.

"But everybody says sex feels amazing?" You questioned, tilting your head. Freds half smile made you heart skip. That was new.

"It does," he chuckled, his eyes falling to your lips for a moment. "But it might be uncomfortable your first time. Especially with me,” he teased. You rolled your eyes at his insinuation and he laughed again. "I'm serious, Y/N. I don't want you to do something you don't want to do." This was clearly the wrong thing to say as you leaned forward to roughly grasp his shoulders.

"Fred, I want this. I want to know what it feels like and there's nobody else on this entire planet I trust more than you," you stated, gripping his shoulders as he watched your declaration.

"Well if I'm going to fuck you we need to kiss first," he grinned cheekily, watching the heat rise up to your cheeks.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," you huffed, finding the courage to lean forward to kiss him. He laughed into the kiss but gladly gripped your hips in return, his mouth moving in tandem. You kissed him greedily, your body moving on its own. Fred swept you onto your back, crawling over your without breaking the kiss. Within seconds, he had taken the control back from you, his kiss melting away your sudden burst of courage. He clearly knew what he was doing and you didn't put up a fight for dominance. The ache in your core surged as his knee pried open your legs, causing a moan to leave your lips. You felt more confident this time, less embarrassed of your noises of ecstasy as Fred's knee applied a much needed pressure to your cunt. You let your hands grip his hair, then run down his back. You felt him groan and it made you want to do it again. You were surprised at your self assurance, and even more surprised that you seemed to have to same effect on Fred that he had on you. His teeth bit softly into your neck in a change of pace.

"Fred," you moaned instinctively, you back arching off the mattress against your will. He didn't stop, instead tearing off your sweatshirt. This prompted the two of you to hastily take off all your clothes, only stopping to laugh when your hand accidentally whacked Fred in the face. The laughter faded as he came forward again, this time kissing you with such tenderness, you thought you were melting back into the mattress.

Fred was hopeless; he had been ruined since yesterday. He knew from the moment he kissed you that he'd been a complete fool. All day he'd been trying to convince himself otherwise, that he didn't harbor any romantic feelings towards you and you were still just his bestfriend. He wasn't going to bother lying to himself any longer. He was hopelessly in love with you.

His kiss began to trail down your neck again, then to your breast, then down your navel. Fred wanted to devour you. He wanted to watch as you came again for him. It drove him crazy that he was the only person to watch you unravel.

"F-Fred," you breathed, your hands tugging at his hair. "What are you doing?" His brown eyes peered up at you as he pressed his mouth into your thigh, making your hips buck.

"Before you have sex, we need to get you nice and wet for me darling," he breathed, kissing closer to your cunt. His fingers ran up your slit and you shivered. "Although, it doesn't seem like you need much help." You didn't have time to respond before he pressed a kiss into your clit, effectively sucking the rest of the air out of your lungs. You shuddered repeatedly as he licked gently on your sensitive clit. It felt so different from his fingers, so wet and warm. It took you a moment in your daze to realize he was moaning into your pussy, greedily lapping at your clit and pushing his tongue inside you. Fred wasn't even trying to hold himself back, his arms wrapping underneath you thighs and pulling you into his face. You tried to press him off of you, embarrassed at how close he was to you heat, but his grip won over you. His tongue lapped in circle, his gentle suck and kiss pulling terrible noises from your mouth. With every movement, the pressures built up inside you, sensation washing over you as you rocked your hips against his tongue. It felt like only a minute had passed when the tightness in your core suddenly snapped.

"Oh, fuck-" you cried as you came unexpectedly onto his tongue, the waves of intense pleasure taking away your ability to breathe. He sighed deeply as he lapped it all up, his grip not loosening for a second. It was only when he felt your legs kicking and your needy pleas for him that he gave one last gentle kiss to you clit. You stared at him breathlessly, unsure of what to say after you just came all over your bestfriends face. Luckily for you, Fred didn't miss a beat.

"You taste so fucking good," Fred praised, kissing up your stomach as you caught your breath. “You’re so good at this Y/N. Did that feel good?" He asked, coming up to hover over your face and brush the sweaty strands of hair off your face. You nodded shyly as you breathed, leaning up to catch his lips in a kiss. He chuckled as he accepted your kiss before saying, "Use your words, darling."

"Yes," you panted, pulling the back of his head down towards you. "That felt so good, Freddie." Fred groaned as his mouth came down to savor your kiss. You stayed like this for a while, kissing as Fred gently pressed his hips into yours. After a while, your hips began to rock with his, naturally moving with the rhythm he had set. There was nothing between the two of you besides his thin boxers, and you could feel his hard length rubbing against you. Occasionally, his tip would catch your entrance, and the pressure made the both of you groan.

"I'm ready," you mumbled into his lips, the two of you unable to break your kiss. He hummed into your lips and kissed you hard for a few more second before he pried himself off of you. He kneeled over you, freeing himself from his boxers with a slap. Your mouth parted slightly at the sight of him, and you were starting to believe him when he said it might hurt. His smile was more adoring than teasing as he watched you gape at his size. You watched breathlessly as he stroked himself a few times before coming back over you.

"Are you sure?" He asked once more, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, spreading your slickness. You weren't sure you could even speak as you watched him do this, you were mesmerized.

"Yes," you breathed, you gaze coming back up to his. His eyes searched your face for any hesitation, and when he found none, he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Just tell me if you want to stop," he soothed, brushing your fallen hair behind your ear. You nodded and tightened your grip on the back of his neck. He pressed a kiss to your lips and pushed himself inside of you.

Fred felt like an idiot as he exhaled into the kiss, his thumb rubbing gently across your cheek. He couldn't believe he didn't realize how much he liked you, how much he loved you. He wanted to swallow you whole. He wished that you knew how much this meant to him, but he knew you were too distracted to be thinking about anything else but his cock inside your tight pussy for the first time. Fuck.

"How does it feel, love," Fred asked, his voice nothing but a raspy whisper. You buried your face into his neck and whined.

"Just keep going," you whispered. "Please." Fred tried not to groan at your pleading as he pulled back again. He knew it must hurt for you, you were so tight. It was taking everything inside of him not to groan uncontrollably and push himself fully inside of you, you felt so good. His lips fell to your neck and left soothing kisses as he pushed himself into you again, this time going deeper. He felt your breath hitch into his neck as your eyes clamped shut. Fred's fingers gripped the sheets for his life.

"Just one more, darling. You’re doing so good," Fred muttered, pulling back gently once more. You nodded into his neck, making some sort of noise of assurance. With a final push, Fred bottomed out and let out an irrepressible moan. You cried again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you felt his full length. He stayed like this for a moment, his lips encouraging you to return his kiss. You obliged and felt yourself relax, the feeling of his lips against yours softening your face. After a moment you let out a soft moan, the fullness inside of you finally satisfying what you thought would be a never ending ache. You moaned again into his kiss, this time louder as he became less controlled, his mouth eagerly devouring your own.

"It feels better now," you whispered into the kiss. Fred hummed and began to move with small and gentle pumps, letting you get used to his size. Fred's fingers were losing circulation as he gripped the bedsheets in an attempt to control himself from fucking you senseless. He fit perfectly inside you, and your breathy whimpers and pants were sending him over the edge. He made a critical mistake by pulling back to watch you as he picked up his pace, your watery eyes and swollen lips looked like heaven.

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted, fully moving with his entire length at this point. "I'm not going to last long." You didn't seem to be able to form any coherent words besides your whines so you just nodded instead, overwhelmed by the unexpected knot forming in your stomach. He watched your eyes as he thrust into you over and over again, the pleasure on your face growing with each movement. His hand gripped your waist as he drove himself into you at his full capability for the final few thrusts. He couldn't help himself and from the noises you were making, you seemed to enjoy it. "Fuck," Fred whispered as he pulled out of you, pumping his cock a few times as he came on the sheets next to you. You watched in awe as he spurted hot liquid onto the bed, some of it falling onto the side of your hips. It made you buck you hips as the emptiness began to creep up, his warm cum dripping teasingly down your side. Fred finished and promptly smothered you in kisses, the two of you groaning as you rode out the last moments of euphoria with each other. Breathless and spent, Fred rolled off of you and pulled you in his chest.

"Are you okay, my love?" He asked, kissing the top of your head and your ears and your cheeks. You giggled and sighed into his kisses, coming up to place one onto his lips.

"Yes," you sighed. "More than okay." Fred smiled and huffed out a laugh, burying his face into you neck as his arms pulled you in tighter. You both sighed contentedly and rested like this for a moment, wetness and warmth in between your bodies.

"We need to get you cleaned up," Fred hushed, reaching over to his bedside to grab his wand. He quickly cleaned up the bed before moving to you, carefully casting the proper charms to get you clean before doing himself. "You should definitely use the bathroom soon and shower before you go to sleep tonight, love." Fred pressed a kiss to your lips again before pulling his sweatshirt over your head and finding you a fresh pair of his boxers to slip up your legs before pulling his sweats back on.

"Mmm," you groaned, closing your eyes and falling back onto his pillow. You were sapped. Fred chuckled and came to join you again, wrapping himself around you.

"Are you listening, love?" Fred teased, rubbing your back with his soft and sturdy hands.

"Mmm," you hummed again, burying yourself deeper into his chest, relishing in his comfort. He huffed out a laugh and buried himself back into your neck.

"Well, I'm getting you up in a moment to use the bathroom," he said, pressing a kiss into the fabric on your shoulders. "And you're not getting out of it. I'm not going to succumb to your cute little noises." You murmured again into his chest and smiled when this made him laugh.

"Can we do this again?" You asked quietly, almost hoping he hadn't heard you. He chortled at your question.

"Yes. Yes, we can do this again."

[porcupine-girl]

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

[amourane]

flustered and blushing

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff so much fluff that it's insane

w/c: 1.7k

summary: in which you're a flustered mess around theo nott and he absolutely adores it.

warnings: none!

a/n: *screams* i just combust every time i write for theo but this piece especially has me just screaming at the cuteness!!!

Everyone who went to Hogwarts knew who Theodore Nott was. It wasn’t hard to miss the dark chestnut hair that would fall in his eyes and the charming smirk that he always wore. Theodore Nott was gorgeous and he knew it. His popularity often led to him being the topic of most conversations and a receiver of many love confessions. Girls would flock to him and try their best to twirl their hair and flirt with the Slytherin but all they were met with was indifference. 

Theodore Nott would tune out their obnoxious laughter and shrill squeals. He would stare blankly at them, reject their advances without a care in the world. Word got around that the infamous Theodore Nott was seemingly unreachable. His unattainability only made him that much more interesting to everyone else.

You were blessed, as some would say, to sit next to Theo during Charms. Flitwick had randomly assigned the seating at the start of the year and you got stuck with Theodore Nott. He wasn’t bad at the subject by any means it just got a bit overwhelming with all the stares and whispers that were directed at your partner. You weren’t one for attention or drama, always preferring to hide in the shadows and not be seen. Sitting next to Theo didn’t exactly grant you that freedom.

Theodore Nott was handsome. So so so handsome. You couldn’t deny your attraction and as much as you tried to push it down you often found yourself staring. The slope of his nose and the angled jaw. His eyes that pulled your attention away from anything else. You would watch as he scrawled his notes onto the parchment. His quill would glide effortlessly without hesitation and you often would forget to take your own notes. You couldn’t help but feel your heart pound whenever he spoke to you or whenever he would offer you even the tiniest smile.

“Hey Y/n you free after dinner tonight?”

The boy beside you drawled with his chin in his hands. He looked at you expectedly and you blinked at him confused. 

“Sorry?”

“Were you not listening? We have an assignment together, I was asking if you were free so we could get started.” He smirked as if he knew you had been watching him all this time. You felt your cheeks heat up and you spluttered for words. Theo chuckled as he shoved his things into his bag, still waiting for your answer.

“Yeah I’m free tonight.” You mumbled, refusing to look at him. You felt your heart race and you gulped. “Wait where are we meeting up?” 

It was then that you realised looking up was a huge mistake because Theo’s face is mere inches away from yours and you felt yourself flush scarlet at the proximity. You blink like a deer caught in headlights trying to calm your own rapidly beating heart. Theo grinned. He tilted his head to the side as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Words died on your tongue and your eyes locked with his and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

It was all too much. Way too much.

You cleared your throat, backing away in your seat as far as you could. Theo bit back another smile as he finally leaned back into his seat again. You felt lightheaded from what had just happened and you looked over at the Slytherin only to find him already staring at you causing your eyes to bulge out of their sockets and for you to turn away quickly.

“W-Where did you say?”

“The library of course, I’d bring you to my dorm but don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for that principessa?”

Even if you couldn’t see Theo Nott you definitely could imagine his trademark smirk that would spread across his face whenever he was feeling smug with himself. His words registered in your mind finally and you let out a squeak at the implication before quickly throwing your stuff in your bag and saying a goodbye.

You darted down the hallway, desperate to get away from your seatmate and to your dorm. Theodore Nott had always been like this with you. All smiles and suggestive comments. Your heart couldn’t take his charming grin and angelic laugh. Ever since you had quietly greeted him back in September he had stuck by you and you really didn’t know why. You weren’t popular by any means and you had no pureblood connection that would be of any use so you weren’t sure why Theodore Nott had taken such an interest in you.

His words filled your head once more and you felt your whole body heat up at the memory. You flopped down onto your bed, groaning into the pillow as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You just knew tonight was going to be so much worse.

//

“-and I was thinking that we could also talk about non verbal spells since- are you listening to me Y/n?”

You snapped out of your thoughts only to see Theo’s brows furrowed and his lips pulled into a frown. The library was fairly quiet and the two of you had picked a secluded corner to ensure no one would disturb the two of you. Your eyes drifted to the textbook in front of the two of you and you blinked blankly towards your partner.

“Sorry I wasn’t paying attention, what were you saying about non verbal spells?” 

Theo smiled and you felt your heart flutter at the sight. His eyes seemed to twinkle more in the warm lighting and you told yourself that you needed to stop having these ridiculous thoughts. Everyone knew that Theodore Nott had no interest in dating anyone much less you.

“You seem to be daydreaming a lot today Y/n, I’m honestly hurt that you haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve been saying.” Theo pouted but you could see the mirth that spread across his face. He leaned towards you and your eyes widened. “What’s got you so distracted today hm?”

He was so close to you. Too close even. You could smell the familiar citrusy scent that he always wore. It felt warm, you didn’t know if that was possible, but he smelt like what you imagined home would be. The slightly sweet but earthy scent invaded your senses and you felt your brain melt.

Your eyes search his face. The sharp cheekbones and jawline contrasted with the smooth curve of his lips. His dark tousled hair that you couldn’t help but imagine running your fingers through his curls. His long eyelashes framed his beautiful grey eyes. The soft glow of the lamp highlights his complexion and you continue to stare, completely mesmerised.

“Nothing…I just have a lot on my mind.” You replied awkwardly, hoping that he didn’t sense that you were lying.

“Hmm…well I’m always here to talk.” Theo folded his arms as he leant onto the wooden desk in front of the both of you. He buried his head into his arms before turning to the side to look at you, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “But I guess we’d just be talking about me, wouldn’t we?”

Immediately you burst into flames and you tried to stutter out an excuse. You knew he had noticed your staring. There were only so many times you could get away with not paying attention in class. Then again, it was still mortifying to get caught.

A group of girls decided that that was the perfect time to walk past the two of you and you froze as they saw you and Theo together. They looked at you and then the Slytherin beside you. Your jaw hung open, gaping like a fish, unable to comprehend the multitude of events that were thrown at you. The girls mirrored your expression before scurrying off whispering loudly.

“Are they dating?”

“No way I didn’t actually think he was capable of liking someone.”

“Who is she anyway? I’ve never seen her around.”

You felt your heart race and you deflated in your chair, head in your hands. This was not meant to happen. You felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked up to see Theo. His smile wasn’t on his face anymore, now replaced with a worried look.

“Are you okay?”

“What? Of course not!” You cried out softly. “Everyone’s going to think I’m your girlfriend and it’s going to spread across the whole of Hogwarts by tomorrow morning. And and…” You groaned, putting your head back into your hands, too overwhelmed by everything that was happening. 

Silence spread across the two of you.

“Would that be so bad?” Theo’s voice broke the quiet. You looked up, startled by his words. “Dating me, that is.”

“T-That’s not what I meant-” You stammered, scrambling for an apology, but Theo interrupted you.

“I don’t smile and flirt with just anyone you know. You’re special to me Y/n. I like you, a lot.” 

He was looking at you now, his eyes filled with a warmth you had mistaken for amusement. His gaze was soft and filled with affection, a small smile playing on his lips. Your cheeks heated up at his unexpected confession. Your heart pounded, and you gripped your fingers, searching for the right words to say.

“Do you like me too?”

Try as you might you couldn’t find any words to express your emotions or your feelings towards Theodore Nott. All you could muster was a nod as an answer to his question. Theo laughed as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He tugged you closer to him and once again you were face to face with Theodore Nott.

“I want to hear you say it principessa. Tell me how much you fancy me.” 

He was doing it on purpose. He knew exactly what to do and what to say to get you completely flustered and a blushing mess for him. And you would be a fool to say it wasn’t working.

“Theo I...” You whispered finally finding your own voice. “I really like you Theodore Nott, I really really like you.”

A bright beam graced Theo’s face and he pressed his forehead against yours, hugging your body close to his. You wrapped your arms around his waist, melting into his touch. Theo pulled back as he placed a kiss on your cheek. You blinked before you felt yourself heat up at his affectionate action. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed at your flustered state.

“You’re so adorable.” Theo chuckled as he embraced you tightly. “I really really like you too Y/n L/n.”

[thevillainswhore]

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears. 

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him. 

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down. 

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since. 

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right. 

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class. 

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.” 

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.” 

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”  

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair. 

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”  

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“ 

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance. 

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over? 

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair. 

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating. 

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it. 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long. 

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress. 

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock. 

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee. 

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away. 

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour. 

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that. 

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow? 

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place. 

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind. 

What if you were his perfect route for revenge? 

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college. 

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over. 

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved. 

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble. 

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse. 

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one. 

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you. 

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels. 

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too. 

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.  

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.  

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career. 

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen. 

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?” 

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.” 

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud. 

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.” 

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.” 

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.” 

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?” 

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of. 

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.” 

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?” 

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you. 

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?” 

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!” 

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled. 

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats. 

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant. 

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table. 

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven. 

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.” 

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.” 

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.” 

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop. 

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.” 

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.” 

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.” 

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table. 

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!” 

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.” 

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it. 

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset. 

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. 

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.” 

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.” 

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table. 

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten. 

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you. 

Not that he was complaining. 

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you. 

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.” 

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”  

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted. 

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.” 

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.” 

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor. 

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.” 

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.” 

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged. 

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it. 

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.” 

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.” 

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness. 

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto  his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”  

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.” 

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.” 

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread. 

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt. 

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.” 

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house. 

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?” 

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.” 

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up. 

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?” 

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.” 

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!” 

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you. 

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?” 

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.” 

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.” 

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.” 

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?” 

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously. 

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?” 

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.” 

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.” 

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.” 

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear. 

Jackpot, he smirked to himself. 

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?” 

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?” 

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?” 

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.” 

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.” 

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?” 

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.” 

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“ 

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.” 

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it. 

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.” 

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.” 

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.” 

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.” 

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair. 

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips. 

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?” 

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands. 

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.” 

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.” 

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak. 

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?” 

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move. 

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you. 

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position. 

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you. 

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.” 

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him. 

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself. 

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.” 

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.” 

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.” 

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound. 

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again. 

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky  that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you. 

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.” 

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more. 

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.” 

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you. 

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man. 

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly. 

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.” 

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer. 

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.” 

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole. 

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!” 

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his. 

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.” 

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.” 

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.” 

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you. 

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?” 

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him. 

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.” 

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy. 

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.” 

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.” 

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you. 

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets,  but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears. 

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?” 

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!” 

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.” 

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?” 

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of. 

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.” 

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app. 

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.” 

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane. 

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.” 

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further. 

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet. 

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high. 

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.” 

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.” 

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you.  Please, it’s you!” 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.” 

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan. 

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?” 

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle. 

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.” 

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?” 

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.” 

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.” 

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.” 

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter. 

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy. 

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating. 

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.  

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.” 

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat. 

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop. 

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him. 

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you. 

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers. 

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?” 

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.” 

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee. 

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”  

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump. 

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.” 

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.” 

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen. 

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up. 

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey. 

[purinfelix]

walking 'cross the campus - n. riki ⋆˚࿔

summary: one too many drinks lands you in the arms of a handsome stranger, who you suddenly end up confessing to - but given that you've never met before, it shouldn't be too big a deal, right? ─────── college au niki x reader || warnings: alcohol, reader being a sappy and kinda cringey drunk, fluffy awkwardness, tension || w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i fear the Niki brainrot is taking over me lately (blame my younger sister whos a niki bias and who has just been influencing me LOLLL) also not that anyone gafs but i actually had this fic idea for a formula one driver originally but never finished it so i recycled it .... hope u guys enjoy !!!!

Maybe this party hadn't been a good idea.

It had certainly seemed like it a couple of days ago when you'd decided to go, despite the assignments and readings piling up on your never-ending to-do list. Even a couple of hours ago, when you were there and enjoying yourself quite a bit, it hadn't seemed too bad an idea. But now, as you heard back to your dorm, barely able to keep your head up or your eyes open after enjoying yourself a little too much, you were starting to regret your decision

And it didn't help that you were being carried bridal-style by the most attractive guy you'd seen all year.

"What did you say your name was again?" you slurred, trying your best to stay awake in his arms.

"Niki," he says, his voice deeper than you were expecting, "though I doubt you'll remember that tomorrow morning." You watch as he chuckles to himself softly, eyes fixed on the stairs he's carrying you up.

"Huh- why?"

"Do you even remember how many drinks you had?"

"I stopped counting after," you unloop your hands from around his neck to count on your fingers, "eight?"

He lets out a small sigh, followed by a shake of his head, as if he's tired of you. But as he does, there's a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, almost as if he's trying not to laugh. "And that's if you can even call the shit in those solo cups 'drinks'. You're braver than I am, trusting frat boys with what you put in your mouth."

You let out a quiet hiccup before speaking in a high, giggly tone, "That sounds dirty." As you lay your head back on his broad chest, you can feel him laugh under his breath.

"Is this your floor?"

You nod, despite having absolutely no idea where you are - surely you can trust your past self to have been stupid enough to tell a total stranger where your dorm is, especially one as good-looking as this.

"I won't forget you," you hum happily, fighting the weight of your eyelids to look up at him, though he just looks ahead, brows furrowed as he tries to find your room.

"And why is that?"

"Well, you're so nice for doing this," you pause, a playful smile spreading across your face, "plus, you're not bad to look at, I don't think I could forget a face like this if I tried."

Without thinking, one of your hands comes up to cup his jaw, pulling him to look at you. Without your hands around his neck, his grip on you slips- and it doesn't help that your words, actions, and the sudden eye contact have caught him completely off guard.

"Wh-careful!" He scolds you with a soft hiss as he quickly repositions his hands to keep you upright.

"Oops!" you hic, unable to comprehend just how much of a hassle you're being right now, but still aware enough to catch the pink flush across his cheeks as he lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of the door with your name on it.

"Key?" he asks, somewhat impatiently, and you clumsily fumble around in your pocket for them before slamming them into his open palm. You hear the familiar sound of your dorm door opening and soon, the cool feeling of your plush bedsheets.

"There you go," he hums softly as he lays you down, though your grip on his neck doesn't loosen.

"Hey, mister," you huff through pouted lips.

"Yes, missus?" He replies in a tone that's equal parts amused and endeared, despite how exhausted he must be with you.

"I think..." you pause to reposition yourself, widening your eyes and pulling him close as if to force him to see the earnest expression on your face, "I think I might love you."

You don't have time to hear his response because you're passed out stone-cold the next second, and the only thing you hear is quiet shuffling followed by the soft click of your dorm door shutting.

The next morning hits you like a truck. Hard.

Your head throbs as you peel it off your pillow, and your mouth feels like sandpaper as you let out a croaky groan. You squeeze your eyes shut, lying there for a few moments and slowly, memories from last night trickle in.

Loud music, sticky floors, flashing lights, one drink, two, six - after that, nothing, a complete blank. Though if you try hard enough to can conjure up the faint memory of someone's hands on the small of your back, and yours around their neck.

You try not to overthink it, sitting up slowly and glancing around your room for any signs of damage. Everything looks normal enough, no carelessly thrown clothes or items belonging to anyone other than you.

With a painful stretch, you reach for your phone, which is neatly waiting for you on your bedside table. All it takes is one look at the time to force you out of bed in a rush - class starts in 20 minutes, great.

You do your best to slip into class unnoticed, making a beeline for your usual spot at the back with your hoodie over your head, sunglasses shoved onto your face to protect you from the harsh overhead lights. You think you've succeeded and start to rummage through your bag for your laptop when you notice someone drop into the seat next to you.

At first, you don't think anything of it, but curiosity forces you to attempt to glance at him over the top of your glasses. He's handsome, there's no doubt about it - he has a sort of boyish charm that you can sense from the way he's lounging in the seat, dark hair falling over his sharp features. It almost irritates you how put-together he looks for how early in the morning it is.

Then you realise he's looking right at you, with an amused smirk spread across his face that makes your heart unexpectedly flutter and your stomach twist.

"Rough night?" he asks, his voice deeper than you expected as he gestures to your sunglasses. His eyes don't leave yours, and there's a mischievous glint in them as he speaks.

You blink. "Uhm... yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh, and you can't help but feel like there's something more going on here that you're not quite getting. "You don't remember much, do you?" he drawls through a smile as he leans back, eyes raking over you.

"Should I?"

"Figured," he laughs, low and teasing, instead of answering your question.

You narrow your eyes at him, chewing on your bottom lip as you struggle to place him - he looks familiar, somewhat, but you're sure you'd remember meeting someone like him before. He certainly doesn't have a face you'd see every day around campus, so you're pretty sure you've never spoken to him before.

"I'm Niki," he offers casually, but as he does, a pang of deja vu hits you, and you don't get long to wonder why before he speaks again. "We kind of met last night."

You feel your stomach drop. Kind of?

"You were at the party?" you blurt out in surprise.

"Yeah, you were a mess," he says, the corners of his lip quirking into an entertained smile.

You're unable to hold back from letting out a mortified groan, hiding your face in your hands - partially to hide your blush but mostly because you can't stand to meet his eye right now. "Please tell me I didn't throw up on anyone or anything," you whine out.

"No puke, don't worry," he assures, "but you did need a little help getting home.

You peek at him through a gap in your fingers. "Who by?" you ask, speaking slowly as if you don't really want to know the answer.

He gestures to himself, a smug grin growing on his face. "Yours truly."

"You drove me?"

"Carried," he corrects.

"Carried?!"

"Bridal style, actually, the entire way."

Your eyes almost pop out of your head from how wide you open them, and all he does is tilt his head to get a better look at your reaction to what he's just said - almost as if he's savouring it. "Oh my god," you sigh, "I am so sorry."

"Don't be," he shrugs calmly, bringing up a hand to run through his hair, "you were pretty entertaining compared to that boring party."

"What exactly did I do?" You feel your chest tighten as you ask, wincing at the endless possibilities of ways you might've embarrassed yourself.

"You don't want to know," he scoffs, turning away from you.

"No, I really do," you insist, despite your better judgement telling you that you were probably better off blissfully ignorant.

He leans back in, dropping his voice to a low tone that feels like it's a secret just for the two of you. "Let's just say you were very ... affectionate."

You blink, unsure of how to respond. "Affectionate?" you echo.

"Yep," he says, and it irritates you just how unaffected he seems by all of this. "You told me you loved me, and I have to say it was pretty convincing."

He turns to you, watching with a playful glint in his eye as you struggle to comprehend his words. If he feels bad for teasing you, he certainly doesn't show it, instead continuing with a taunting tone. "Practically begged me not to leave."

You feel your face burn hot with frustration as you furrow your brows. "You're lying," you insist.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Okay, just tell me I didn't, like, cling to you or anything."

He raises an eyebrow, attempting to fight a smile as he speaks. "Define cling."

You let out a guttural groan of embarrassment, pulling your hood down to hide your face again. "I am never drinking again," you sigh dramatically, your voice partially muffled by it.

"Aww, c'mon, I kinda liked that side of you," you hear him taunt, "it was cute."

"I hate you," you huff curtly, flicking back your hoodie to meet his eye, though the pink blush spreading across your cheeks betrays your words.

"That's not what you were saying last night," he chuckles to himself, turning back to his laptop and focusing his attention back to the lecture which, at this point, is almost over. You feel your frustration grow at the sight of him pretending he actually cares about it, as if he hasn't just dropped an earth-shatteringly embarrassing bomb on you.

You try to do the same, to make an effort to show just how much his words aren't affecting you, how totally normal you are about what he's just revealed - or more the thought of what he's still hiding. But you can't. Even as you try to focus on what your professor is saying, you can't seem to comprehend a single word. All you can think about is the boy sitting next to you, about the faint memories you have and how every single one aligns horrifyingly with what he's told you.

You're so lost in these memories in fact that you don't notice him leaning close to you again, not until his low voice hums in your ear.

"You really don't remember anything?"

You jump slightly, turning just enough to catch his eye, which is a lot closer than you're expecting - close enough that you can see the slight hint of worry in his expression. "Not a thing," you sigh curtly.

"That's a shame," he says, clicking his tongue as he shifts back in his seat, flicking his hair in the opposite direction as if to avoid your eye "I was starting to think you meant it." By how exaggeratedly he sighs, you can tell he's meaning to poke fun at you, but the slight waver in his voice betrays him, and instead, you sense just a tinge of disappointment in his words.

"So, what now?" you mumble, shifting awkwardly in your seat, "Do I owe you a thank-you or something?"

He tilts his head back to you, round eyes lighting up despite the rest of his face clearly trying to convey nonchalance. "I wouldn't say no to a coffee."

You narrow your eyes at him, "You're not trying to ask me out, are you?"

He stiffens slightly at your words, but is quick to cover it up before speaking again. "Would you say yes?"

You open your mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say in response. He's caught you off guard for what feels like the millionth time this morning - not by what he's asked, but rather by how not casual he sounds for once. In the time you take to process his question, you get a chance to study him, searching for a sign. One that tells you that he's just messing with you, that this is all an elaborate prank and that the previous night didn't actually happen the way he says it did.

But instead, you get something completely different, something unexpected. You watch as his eyes suddenly flicker away from yours, and he turns his attention to fiddling with the several rings on his fingers, as if he's trying to act like he hasn't just asked whether you'd consider a date with him.

That's when it clicks - he's nervous.

The guy who witnessed you make a total embarrassment of yourself last night, whom you drunkenly confessed to and whom has been doing nothing but teasing you and basking in your flustered responses for the past hour, is nervous.

You're unable to stop your lips from twitching into a small smile at the feeling of the tension suddenly flipping. "Maybe," you answer, trying to mirror his calm tone.

He glances at you again, something flickering across his face that slightly resembles hope, maybe relief, as he bites back a wide smile. "I'll take that."

The lecture finally draws to an end, and you watch as he stands up, grabbing his bag swiftly before turning to you. He's failing at hiding his smirk, but now it lacks the same smug self-assurance you found irritating just a couple of minutes ago, and you swear you see him hesitate for just a second before speaking.

"Think about it," his voice is lower now, almost careful, "and then if that maybe becomes a yes, you know where to find me. Or, I guess, I know where to find you technically."

"That sounds stalker-ish," you scoff.

"Hey, you're the one who told me you loved me."

"Fair," you shrug, resigned. With another low chuckle, he's slipping out of the classroom - but not before sending you one last look, as if his eyes refuse to let yours go. He sends you a lazy grin, one that seems like an affirmation of everything that happened the previous night.

And now you're sitting there, heart beating a little faster than before, head still a little foggy with blurry memories - but not enough to fully miss everything that just happened.

'Think about it.'

You've never really noticed Niki before, not like this, but now with the memory of his low voice in your ear, his teasing gaze on yours and his inability to let you live anything down ever - you're definitely thinking about it.

taglist for ni-ki fics (love u!! <3) : @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96

[bartxnhood]

cowboy casanova | t.o

tyler owens x fem!reader

based on this request: “Omg, how about Tyler Owens comforting reader on their first storm chase, maybe she’s really nervous or scared and he’s like don’t worry I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you… something like that???”

warnings: depictions of a tornado, reader has a panic attack. severe damage to homes and buildings.

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: thank you for the request! i added a touch of a backstory to help the plot go forward. i hope that’s okay!! i’m also currently in the theater about to watch it again (i saw it last night lol) enjoy <3

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2024 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

you see a man standing in a wide-open field, as the sky above you darkened to a menacing shade of gray. the once-gentle breeze turns into a fierce, howling wind, and you feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

you were assigned to follow him and his crew around while they chased these monstrous tornadoes then went in and dissolved the threat. you worked for a huge journaling company from the north, but you grew up in arkansas and became familiar with these devastating weather patterns.

now, you were in oklahoma where you’d be joining this storm chaser during a week-long chase.

“you ready to chase some storms?” his back was still towards you, and his southern drawl was familiar.

as the man in the maroon shirt and white cowboy hat, spun on his heels to face you, you were taken aback.

tyler owens.

“y/n?”

his blood ran cold, not expecting to see you after all of these years. you laughed in disbelief, “this is crazy..” you shook your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg.

“you’re the journalist?”

you and tyler go way back. the two of you were in school together, majoring in meteorology.he started chasing these storms, becoming famous on campus.

but, it all came to a head one day when you got trapped and lost your best friend. that’s when you dropped meteorology and took up journalism. you documented the destruction, the path, how they moved, etc.

and now, you were writing about who was called the tornado wrangler. you should’ve done your research but you didn’t want the assignment.

but, he had become so popular with his crew. they’d go inside the twisters and release a mixture to help dissolve the storm. and it worked.

“you’re the wrangler?” you ask, and tyler laughs. that signature laugh that always made you want to punch him in his pretty little face.

tyler turns around and rests his hands on his hips. “what do you see?”

the wind picks up even further, swirling around you in a dizzying dance, pulling at your clothes and hair. you sigh, taking a few steps closer till you are standing next to him.

“there” you point to the east, the air was thick with an unsettling hum as a dark mass loomed on the horizon. the skies darkened further, and a chilling gust of wind whipped up debris and sent trees bending at unnatural angles.

"another one" he murmured, eyes locked on the clouds as his adrenaline spiked and his lips pulled into a smile that he couldn't help but wear every time a storm was brewing.

glancing over at you he tried to hide the excitement in his chest that he felt when one appeared, but tyler knew hiding your feelings from another storm chaser was like trying to hide a tornado in an open field.

"how much do you wanna bet it'll touch down two miles east of our position" he teased, eyes scanning the clouds for clues.

“mm” you shake your head, even though you hadn’t done it in years you still had it. “three.” you continue, then point to the wind and how it carries against the wheat field.

“look at the way the wind is carrying. it’ll go east and hit north. perfect conditions,” you add crossing your arms

“i think you have yourself a ef5.”

uou had it. the intuition to tell where a storm was going to go by only looking at the clouds, the way the winds were blowing, and the speed at which the storm moved.

tyler had a similar gift, every storm chaser had it, but he had never met someone who could predict the size of a storm, which was a rarity he had never seen before.

“ah EF5, huh? i’ll hold you to that. If you’re wrong, you’re buying me a beer.”

tyler owens would be the death of you.

“i’m not buying you anything, owens.”

you load up into his truck, snapping pictures of forming a storm. he was flooring the red truck in a wheat field right towards the storm so he could get ahead of it.

“ya miss it?” he yells, over the thunder. occasionally turning his head to look at you. you say nothing, continuing to snap pictures.

“sometimes.” you blurt, not looking back at him. “i just don’t miss the destruction” you continue, rolling up the window and reviewing the photos.

“you were good,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and eyes still taking glances at you. “mm” you just hum in response, not wanting to talk about your storm chasing days.

suddenly, a funnel begins to descend from the clouds, growing larger and more ominous by the second. the air around you crackles with anticipation, and you realize that you are witnessing the terrifying formation of a tornado. an EF5.

this was the second time you had ever seen an EF5 form in front of you, this was frightening.

you held onto your camera tightly as tyler drove right towards the black abyss. “shit..” you mumble quietly.

as the rain beat down on the windshield, the engine's roar could hardly be heard above the gathering storm.

tyler's truck sped through the wide-open fields, creating a trail of dirt and dust in their wake. with his eyes locked on the approaching storm, he clinched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel firmly like a man about to die.

he had chased tornadoes before, but never an EF5. the adrenaline in his veins was making his heart race and his senses heighten as he pushed the truck to drive faster, the roar of the wind and thunder in their ears.

“what a beauty” he muttered, admiring the sheer force and size of the storm in front of them.

as your heart pounded furiously in your chest, you felt a sudden tightening of the breath in your lungs.

your mind raced with panicked thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. you fought to stay calm, but the fear was overwhelming, like a living entity trying to consume you whole.

sweat beaded on your forehead, and your hands trembled as you held the camera. the world around them seemed to blur and spin out of control, like the tornado in front of them.

"tyler, we should go back," you yelled. tyler smiled, eyes fixed on the whirling green giant in front of him.

he yells, "not a chance, l/n. look at it!" as he maneuvers through the difficult terrain. “we can’t give up now!”

“stop!” you proceeded to yell, flashes of that night you lost your best friend. the way the sky looked, how it sounded, the rain on your skin, how cold you were. it was all flashing in front of you, experiencing the whole thing again.

tears brim your eyes, your body shaking like a leaf. “please! just stop!” you yell over the growl of the thunder clapping.

tyler’s heart sank to his stomach as he heard the raw emotion in your voice. he had teased you and challenged uou, but now it was clear that this was not just another storm for you.

it was a personal struggle that was tearing you apart and he had triggered it with his arrogance.

without a word, he stomped on the brakes and brought the truck to a screeching halt, his own heart racing against his ribs.

"y/n, look at me," he said, voice suddenly hoarse and quiet.

you’re gasping for air, pulling at the collar of your crewneck. the cab of the truck felt like it was closing in on you, you unbuckled the seat belt and tried to unlock the door. “i can’t do this” your bottom lip begins to quiver. “i have to..i gotta get out of here.”

you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. your mind is fogged with the traumatic experience of the last time you were caught in the eye of a storm like this.

tyler’s heart dropped as he saw you struggling, your gasping breaths and trembling body. he reached over to her, gently grabbing your wrist, preventing you from opening the door of the truck.

“hey, hey, whoa. look at me, look at me, please.” he pleaded, his voice firm but surprisingly gentle.

he reached out and took your chin, gently turning your head to face him. his eyes searched yours for a moment before narrowing in concern.

“y/n, listen to me. you need to breathe, sweetheart.”

your breathless, unable to think straight until your eyes meet his sea green orbs. you take in a deep breath and mirror tyler’s breathing.

inhale, exhale.

you repeated this until you eventually calmed down.

your hands continue to tremble as you speak, “tyler, i cannot do this. i just can’t.” hour southern drawl escaping. “it’s too much”

tyler watched as your rapid breathing slowly began to match his own, your hand gripping his tightly. his heart ached as he saw the fear and the anguish in your eyes, and knew that this was not just a simple fear of storms.

it was a trauma, something deeply personal, that had left a permanent mark on your soul.

he gently raised his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe you. “i know, i know” he whispered, his own tone gentle and soft.

“ain’t nothin gonna happen to you, kay? i won’t let it.” he assures your worries, wiping away the stray tear that escaped your eyes then tucked some hair behind your ear.

“i’ve got you.” he continues. you watch as his attention goes from you to the tornado in front of you. “if you want me to take you back i need to know, now” he says, looking back at you.

you sniffle, following his gaze to the twister.

if he could stop something like this it would be a huge achievement to the community. no more damage, no more homelessness. it would all be fixed.

“no..” you begin, and find your eyes back on him. “i’ll be fine.”

tyler nods, putting the truck into drive. one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching for yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “you’ll be fine, city girl.”

you choke out a laugh, and shake your head.

“then, let’s chase this beaut!” he yips and slams his foot on the gas and takes off towards the monster of a tower.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

wish lantern rewrite

I can’t be the only one that wishes we had actually traveled to a new location… that we had learned about a new culture and holiday… that Riddle had actually had more character development in Wish Lantern instead of being cooped up in the library, being forced to play pretend princess in order to get out, and give like maybe a handful of lines max in the second half of the event 😭 What we ended up getting was fun too, but I keep thinking about the missed opportunities and how great this story event could have been.

If Twst won’t give it to me then I will have to cook my own food 😤

Here’s how I would write Wish Lantern if I was in the Twst writing room:

Since Riddle is the SSR, I feel the story and its set-up should center him. I’m thinking maybe he’s invited to (or told by his mother to attend) some kind of conference or event in the Kingdom of Heroes or the Sunshine Lands for aspiring medical mages. Let’s say it is being held in the same place where the story of the Princess in the Tower originated because the Sundrop flower mentioned in the tale has miraculous healing properties (and the city/kingdom has since become known for its medical advances).

Riddle is uneasy about going there by himself (the implication being that this event is set after book 1 and, more specifically after book 6, when Riddle expresses to Azul he has been considering pursuing law instead of magic medicine/the career his mother chose for him). Maybe he mentions this unease around Deuce, that he feels obligated to go because “Mother knows best… She has always known what is best for me, hasn’t she?” It could even be in the library. Say that Riddle is brushing up for the conference and happens to run into him, who is looking for a book to help with completing an assignment. After listening to Riddle’s woes, Deuce, being one of the people who knows about his dorm leader’s complicated feelings toward his mother and finding his own independence, offers to come along as emotional support.

As for how Jack gets involved, he’s Deuce’s club member. Maybe he overhears Riddle talking about sports medicine or panels presented by medical mages who work with athletes, or Deuce mentions it in a club meeting. Jack becomes interested because he’s the type of person that’s always looking for ways to enhance his training and to learn more about this subject.

Kalim can either join because he's conveniently in the library + wants to learn more about poisons and antidotes (on his own self-development journey to be more self-sufficient instead of relying on Jamil all the time) or because the Asims are sponsors of the event and he gets a free invite through his Rich Privilege.

Use the usual "Grim overhears and whines until he and Yuu get invited to go along" excuse or maybe have Yuu and Grim come because they, too, want to be emotional support for Riddle. (They could have heard from Deuce?) With that, we have all of the main characters for this event assembled.

Even though this is a rewrite, I'm going to try and follow the conventions of OTHER "hometown" events. That means most of this rewritten event will be exploring the new area, learning about its customs and traditions, souvenir shopping, and sampling food. This would be a great chance to, of course, throw in Tangled references. Because I proposed that this event be focused on a conference for aspiring medical mages, we can also learn more lore about what medical technology and practices exist in Twisted Wonderland and how magic has played a part in advancing medicine.

So it turns out, there's a festival going on in the area at the same time as the conference. That's because there's a holiday in this kingdom that celebrates the Princess in the Tower finding her way home by following a trail of lanterns. Since the conference doesn't start until the next day, we can go out and enjoy the festivities! (Riddle can be hesitant at first, but the others convince him to loosen up.)

The new outfits + hair can be explained away as part of local traditions. Everyone is provided with a potion that lengthens their hair so they can emulate the Princess in the Tower. Or maybe there can be a potion-making station, and length still correlates with the skill at which you were able to brew it. (In this version, the hair lengthening potion isn't made with super rare ingredients; it is something easily accessible for even non-mages to brew and can be made cheaply.) YES, THAT MEANS WE GET LONG HAIR GRIM.

Local specialties could include dishes mentioned or depicted in Tangled, like hazelnut soup (Rapunzel's favorite).

HERE ARE SOME CUTE INTERACTION IDEAS BASED ON RAPUNZEL'S OWN EXPERIENCES IN CORONA: the gang doing chalk drawings and clowning on each other's artistic abilities (or lack thereof), trying out cupcakes (the reasoning being that they're "single servings" so it's okay for Riddle to indulge), exploring bookshops, painting on the walls, and everyone joining in a big group dance! (For the dance, maybe there’s a competition to see who can drag in the most bystanders into the dance and Riddle gradually finds his footing in that + is crowned the winner?) There could even be a tavern that pays homage to The Snuggly Duckling.

While we're out having fun, there should be a consistent pattern of Riddle having to be convinced that it's okay to be participating in these activities. He feels that he should be focusing on studying for the conference, but the others are there to reassure him it's okay to take breathers.

"You won't perform at your best if you're always at 100%. In terms of a workout, you'd be asking to pull a muscle if you push yourself to exercise without end." (Jack)

"Mmm? But how often are we going to be in [name of city]? We're here now, so we might as well experience everything that's here!! The food, the music, the games, the people... You can't find that anywhere but here." (Kalim)

"I get the importance of preparation, but I'm kind of curious about the celebration that's going on. If Rosehearts-senpai wants to study, then he should do that. I'd feel bad exploring the city without him, though... He might miss out." (Deuce)

"Shouldn't you at least grab some grub first? I'm pretty hungry too! Let's check out the food stalls!" (Grim, maybe Yuu can also get a dialogue option)

At some point, the group decides to browse and buy souvenirs. They discuss who they are shopping for and come upon the subject of family. Kalim and Jack want to buy stuff for their siblings and Deuce thinks his mom might appreciate a locally made handkerchief with the kingdom's sun emblem on it. (As a trucker, Dylla often drives for long hours so she might find use in a handkerchief to wipe her forehead.) Yuu and Grim can also bring up potentially getting something for the Ramshackle Ghosts, who are like their found family.

Riddle becomes visibly uncomfortable when the topic of family is brought up. Everyone else sounds so happy talking about theirs, but he has no idea what a happy family is supposed to be like. Deuce (and maybe Yuu + Grim too) realizes why Riddle is uncomfortable and quickly apologize. Kalim and Jack, who aren't familiar with Riddle's background or his attempts to speak with his mother over winter break, are a little confused but the others feel it's not their place to explain why and Riddle doesn't know them well enough to elaborate on personal matters. (Here, Jack and Kalim serve as an in-universe reason to keep his family history vague so as to not spoil people who haven't gotten that far in the main story yet, but the awkwardness is palpable enough to imply something is wrong to serve the narrative of the event story.)

Now, "hometown" events tend to introduce a new character, typically a family member, to us. However, the new characters are not those who appear as the "trauma source" for the respective OB boy. (For example, Falena was not the character introduced to us in Tamashina Mina/Cloudcalling on the Savanna and we met Kifaji instead.) Following this trend, we will not be encountering Mrs. Rosehearts but rather MR. Rosehearts.

I realize that we don't have a ton of lore about Riddle's dad yet so everything I write about his personality is completely headcanon (primarily based on the personality of the King of Hearts). The only things that are canon in this depiction is that 1) Mr. Rosehearts is a medical mage like his wife is and 2) Mr. Rosehearts does not have a happy marriage with his wife.

Anyway, we run into Mr. Rosehearts out in the city. Turns out that he is one of the presenters at the conference and he was supposed to meet and receive Riddle. He's a quiet and slightly anxious man but overall is kind to his son (though we should get the impression that Mr. Rosehearts isn't good with confrontation and folds easily).

Maybe have a part where Mr. Rosehearts is surprised that Riddle has friends because uh... the last time he recalls his son having friends, it was because his wife ranted at them for 5 hours and banned them from their home. But hey, he's chill about it and promises Riddle this can stay between them and he won't tell his mom. Could insert a line or two that implies that the winter break talk didn't go over well. (This is just my headcanon, but you could also stick in a line that insinuates that the Rosehearts parents don't just outright divorce because Riddle's mom can't deal with the potential social fallout + realizing that she is "wrong" in her marriage.)

Every "hometown" event thus far has presented us with some kind of minor external conflict to be resolved. In this case, Riddle's conflict is more internal. He's wrestling with what he wants to do with his future and trying to cope with the reality that his mother isn't the loving, "always correct" woman he thought she was. This, of course, mirrors Rapunzel's struggle with Mother Gothel, who tries to keep her in the tower and doing as she commands.

We finally make our way to our quarters for the night (Riddle has his own room; everyone else has to share one), perhaps in tall tower to mimic Rapunzel's home with Gothel. Riddle knows he should retire early because the conference is first thing tomorrow, but he admits to everyone that after spending time in the city, he has become curious about the tradition of releasing thousands of wish lanterns into the night sky. It happens pretty late in the day though, so he brushes it off and says they should sleep.

... But the others get really hype about Riddle "finally getting into the spirit of the holiday" and decide they should see the lanterns!! The only problem is, Riddle is locked in his hotel room for the night. There could be a local superstition, tradition, or security reason for this. Like maybe due to the story of the Princess in the Tower (and Gothel locking her up), people who are indoors at a certain time of night can't leave until the next day?? Or maybe Mrs. Rosehearts had prepared Riddle's room for him in advance and instructed staff to ensure he doesn't leave because she has been paranoid about him "breaking the rules" again after the tart incident. I don't know, pick your reason.

YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS??? It's time for Jack, Deuce, Kalim, Grim, and Yuu to be Riddle's Flynn Rider + animal companions to break Riddle out. Our group represents the freedom and childhood wonders Riddle missed out on, the antithesis to Mrs. Rosehearts'/Mother Gothel's control. I can see Riddle using his long hair to hoist himself down, Jack using his UM to help everyone race to the water in time to catch the lanterns, Deuce being the muscle if they run into any thugs, Kalim using his social skills to quickly befriend the locals and ask for directions to the best vantage point or using his $$$ to rent the group a rowboat, etc.

We can keep the rhythmic/twistune from the original version of this event where Kalim, Deuce, and Jack were able to safely descend using Riddle’s hair but Riddle hesitates before he’s able to get himself to follow. The reason is the same; he worries about breaking the rules and how his mother would disapprove of him leaving the home. Riddle wonders if the Princess in the Tower felt the same, but ultimately his friends convince him it’s fine (by baiting him with the rules). He will be trapped in this tower forever if he doesn’t summon his strength and take the leap. If not now, then when? When will my life begin? “There are people waiting for me outside, so… it must be okay for me to leave. Right… Mother?”

Riddle keeps nagging everyone about how many rules and social norms they're breaking, but eventually he loosens up and even laughs a little at some of the dumb things they do. We can maybe have him thinking, This is just like… and then flashback to his childhood days with Trey and Chenya.

They're out on the waters just in time to see the lanterns being released. Alternatively, the even runners could be having trouble lighting up all the lanterns or something so Riddle has the opportunity to help with that (this way, we’d still get the other rhythmic/twistune featured in the original event). That particular rhythmic/twistune ends on Riddle with five lanterns floating overhead, which I think could be important symbolism (five lanterns -> five mentions of Heartslabyul).

It's beautiful. Everyone oohs and aahs at the sight--most of all, Riddle. He can say something like... "This city is known for its many contributions to magic medicine. I know that, and yet... I don't believe any magic or medicine could replicate what I am feeling in this very moment." There is some part of Riddle that acknowledges the healing and therapeutic properties of just... being allowed to have freedom, of allowing himself to live in the present and not stress about the rules or gearing up for a future someone else has decided for him all the time. He just doesn't know how to fully verbalize it + has not fully come to terms with it yet, so this is how he expresses it. At last, he sees the light.

While the new location they travel to + the conference provide us with the backdrop of medicine and health for this rewrite, I think there’s also something to be implied about the injuries we don’t see, the pain inflicted that isn’t physical. Both Riddle and Rapunzel were trapped in towers but were also emotionally controlled and prevented from leaving/made scared or the world and disobeying their mothers. When Riddle sees the lanterns, it’s sort of a “wake up” sign to his soul, a reminder of how healing it can be to just… live by one’s own terms, to not be ruled over by fear of disappointing someone else or failing to meet expectations. Rapunzel and Riddle bear scars on their heart from having been raised in the households that they were, and it is seeing the lanterns in-person that helps to “heal” what hurts them.

Riddle recalls the story of the Princess in the Tower and how she made a wish to see the lanterns, so now people make wishes upon these lanterns before releasing them into the sky. He lets go of his own lantern and wishes that, someday, he can be like the Princess in the Tower and this lantern floating up to the sky… and follow his own Road to Freedom.

Everyone sneaks back into their rooms and rest for the day. Uhhh, and there can be a scene of slicing off their hair for tomorrow. Riddle can talk about how the Princess grew her hair long because her mother told her to, but that it must have been cumbersome to walk like this. This way, by cutting off the hair like how the Princess does at the end of her story, it's a liberating act.

It doesn't matter what happens at the conference because what was important was the experiences Riddle had with his friends leading up to it. At most, maybe we see Mr. Rosehearts again while heading to the venue and they have a brief exchange where Riddle lets it slip he's a little tired. "That's so unlike you," Mr. Rosehearts remarks. "Well," Riddle replies with a small smile, "I am a growing young man, after all. I am changing every day."

I want to be clear that this does NOT mean Riddle has had a full character arc to come to terms with how he was raised. He would NOT feel 100% okay with rebelling against his mother by the end of this (hypothetical) event. The point of my version of Wish Lantern isn't to empower Riddle to fistfight Mrs. Rosehearts or to tell her off. The point is that it's supposed to be a small step in helping Riddle through the very complicated process of recognizing he was traumatized and/or abused, accepting that reality, and learning about how he can grow from it and his abuser (who is someone he thought he loved and could trust). This can take YEARS to process in the real world, and it would probably be similar to Riddle. Again, this is meant to be a SINGLE STEP he takes, NOT THE ENTIRE JOURNEY.

So in my rewrite, the event would be split up like this:

Episode 1: invitation to the event; gathering all the relevant characters, hopping through the mirror

Episode 2: arrival in the new location and having fun in the area

Episode 3: souvenir shopping, meeting Riddle's dad

Episode 4: retiring to room, changing mind and deciding to break out instead

Episode 5: seeing the lights, ending

As you can see, the structure is very similar to a traditional "hometown" event. I didn't want to stray too far from Twst's usual writing conventions, as it could mess with the cohesion with the rest of its story events. I did, however, try to change things up a little (like having an internal conflict instead of an external one) and tied in this (hypothetical) story with Riddle's overarching character development, as those are elements that I personally prefer in a story. I realize that the biggest change here is tying my rewrite much more strongly to the main story than similar events have 💦 BUT LET ME HAVE THIS, I think I cooked 😭

... What Wish Lantern could have been OTL Don’t get me wrong, though!! The version we did get wasn’t all bad. There was lore about the NRC library, lots of involvement from the staff, and fun character interactions with the whole student cast. I just feel like those could have all been used for a different event and not the Tangled one which could have been so much more interesting for Riddle and his character.

[rebelfell]

reindeer games┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

we’re gonna call this a belated holiday blurb 🎄

cw: no smut, but there’s allusions to mutual masturbation and an over abundance of filthy flirting b/c these two simply can’t help themselves. the concept for eddie’s shoot is inspired by this (nsfw) incredible freaking art by @safk-art.

18+, MDNI┃2.2k

You’ve never been a fan of these calendar shoots.

It takes practically the entire day and the studio is packed full because they bring in just about every performer under contract to participate.

It’s loud and chaotic, lots of PAs running back and forth with the most random assortment of props you’ve ever seen. And it’s stifling hot with all the bustling bodies, equipment and lightboxes, flash bulbs going off every five seconds.

Right now there’s a few girls in Victoria’s Secret-esque getups with feathery angel wings being cupids for February, while two more covered in glittery body paint are getting ready to pose in a cauldron to be a “pot of gold” for March. After them, it’ll be girls in big yellow rain boots with matching caps and nothing else spraying one another with a hose for April. 

The remaining months are still in the process of being set up, backdrops being changed out and lighting adjusted. On the furthest wall, there’s a big board with everyone’s assignments and the various call times as well as mock-ups of each concept and who will participate in the photo.

You’ve already visited the board and deduced your first stop will be the wardrobe department so you can get your costume. You’ve also noted that a certain someone will likely be finishing up his turn at the make-up mirror right around the same time you’re done being fitted.

When you emerge from behind the curtained off area set up for people to change, yours eyes meet Eddie’s across all the chaos and he’s immediately getting up from his chair, striding towards you.

Your body can’t help but react to his presence, despite your best efforts to keep your face neutral and squash the urge to run directly into his arms.

You might’ve thought it had been days or weeks since you saw him, rather than mere hours. You might’ve thought you woke up that morning on opposite coasts rather than with your naked limbs entwined and tangled up in your bedsheets. You might’ve thought he was some kind of long lost lover whose face was fading from memory the way your heart leapt just from seeing him.

Still, you know you can’t greet him the way you want to. Not with all these people around.

Word has yet to get around about you two, and you intend to keep it that way. The current theory is that what happened at the awards was just a fluke—a random, drunken, one-night thing. 

(A one-night thing that’s led to the best weeks of your life, but that’s neither here nor there.)

You’re meant to be playing it cool, keeping things professional, still holding all your cards decidedly close to your vests, at least for the time being.

But Eddie's not exactly making it easy.

He lets his dressing gown slip open slightly as he walks over, showing off a little more of the top of his chest and his thick, muscular neck where it meets his pronounced collarbones.

Slut, you think with the utmost affection.

The boy certainly makes for a cute Rudolph.

He’s snagged the coveted December slot, and the creative director has chosen a bondage theme—hence the body harness they’ve got him in under his thin robe, as well as a collar with jingling gold bells and a pair of antlers on top of his mop of unruly curls. For the picture, he’s also going to be tied up with Christmas lights, struggling against the illuminated ties while you and the rest of the ‘reindeer’ stand around him laughing and teasing him mercilessly for his bright red ‘nose.’

You imagine that’s what he was in the chair for, getting the head of his dick painted with deep scarlet rouge so it’ll look like it’s shining.

It’s all seems like a bit much, but even you have to admit you’re excited to see the end result.

He scans up and down with those mischievous eyes, all the while having to resist the urge to slip his hands around your waist and pull you into him, showing you just how redundant you’ve made the Viagra he popped earlier. He should have known he wouldn’t even need it once you were on set.

He snaps his fingers and points, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Let me guess…Vixen?” 

The bells on the collar around your neck jingle as you smile and shake your head.

“More like Dancer,” you replied lowly, dropping to a breathy whisper when he got close enough to hear. “Or did you forget last night already?”

“Not forgetting that anytime soon,” he promised in a husky whisper of his own.

You shiver at his words as they trickle down your back, and you can almost feel his hands on you exactly as they were the night before—fingers splayed wide to hold onto as much of you as possible when he reached out for your ass.

The dance had started out innocently enough, as a brainstorming session for your next project, only for it to devolve as it often did these days into you attacking one another once one or both of you could no longer restrain yourselves. The pretense of you as a stripper giving your security guard a lap dance as thanks for chasing away a handsy creep fell away, along with your clothes.

This newfound aspect of your relationship was certainly inspiring a lot of ideas, but it had proved to be more of a hindrance to your work ethic than anything else. Still, you couldn’t be too broken up about it. Not when you’re having the best sex of your personal and professional life combined.

“Not forgetting this anytime soon, either,” Eddie adds, still staring raptly at your costume.

You and the other girls are dressed pretty simply in matching brown teddies and antlers of your own, plus collars similar to Eddie’s. They’re also going to paint your faces to look more like deer, with cute little noses and tiny white freckles and extra-long lashes. And yeah, it’s a little silly. But the way a certain pair of bright brown eyes are pouring over you right now…it’s well worth it.

“Hey…think you get to keep this?” he asks quietly, carefully fingering the marabou trim.

“Unlikely,” you frown and then eye him coyly. “But Tina might let me borrow it…assuming it’ll be returned to her in pristine condition.”

Eddie hisses softly through his teeth and his head quickly shakes back and forth.

“Yeeeeah, I can’t guarantee that,” he chuckles.

You deliver a light swat to his chest. Not too flirty, but not strictly platonic either. Though, it’s times like these that make you wonder why you bother.

Anyone looking on could probably see straight through your paltry attempt to act disinterested, and you’ve already started getting third degrees from some of your friends in the industry who have seen the massage tape.

Almost as soon as it was came out, you were being bombarded. People were quick to praise the chemistry between you and your co-star, but they were even quicker to drop their voices to a hushed and conspiring whisper as they asked what was ‘going on’ between you two.

And when you tried to say it was nothing or that you were just friends…it didn’t exactly go over.

You’re joking, right? Nah, no one is that good an actor, babe. The man is fully obsessed with you. Just look at his face when he—

So, yeah, okay, word was likely going to get out. But it wasn’t going to be today.

Right now, you just had to focus on taking this photo and getting through the rest of the day so you could spend the rest of your night with the adorable creature standing before you.

“I’m headed for make-up,” you offer. And in a lightning-quick move, you reach out to squeeze his arm, then swipe at it gently like you were just brushing off a piece of lint for him.

Very discreet. So covert.

Eddie tucks his chin to his chest as he nods, his eyes still roving over you and your skin he can see through the sheer material. You move to walk past him, letting your hip graze decidedly against his.

“Smile pretty,” you whisper under your breath.

It’s not too much longer before they’re calling people over for your shot and instructing Eddie to get in position first. He drops his gown and sinks to his knees in the center of the frame, hard and freshly pumped cock bobbing between his thighs. The fake polyester snow on the floor provides at least a little cushioning, and the red on his head looks extra bright against the sparkly white.

The effect is…extremely distracting. 

Even knowing it’s just make-up, as is the fake cum dribbling from his tip, your mind swirls with recent memories of his cock looking just like this in real life—his own fist wrapped tight around it, sliding up and down in long, even strokes; your dresser rattling as he leans on it for support while you lay with your legs splayed wide in your bed, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit.

His eyes meet yours briefly and from the way they flash, you’re certain he’s remembering it too.

Once the photographer is happy with Eddie’s placement, the PAs come to tie his hands behind his back. They wind the strands of lights around his arms and torso up to his shoulders, draping them across his chest and then crossing them behind his back. Two of the girls are given the ends to hold so he looks like he’s hog-tied.

The light bounces prettily off his pale skin that glows a rosy pink, and you make a mental note to shoot him in similar lighting. Soon.

Maybe you’ll do something like this, but with just the Christmas lights. Him in your bed, his delicate wrists tied to your headboard, those soft rainbow lights the only color in the darkened room aside from that of a deep, cool blue winter night…

Okay, seriously. You’ve got to stop.

You’re at work, don’t forget.

Luckily, they’re placing the rest of you now and you’re brought into the foreground to stand next to Eddie. The two of you exchange another look as they fine tune the lighting, and you shoot him the subtlest wink you can manage. It’s short, so quick he nearly misses it, but it’s all he needs to be absolutely certain his dick will stay hard for the remainder of the shoot. Maybe the whole day.

He’s only vaguely aware of the girls standing behind him, or all the people crowded in behind the camera. Once they start shooting, his vision tunnels until all that’s left in focus is you.

The only thing he knows is it’s probably a good thing his hands are tied. Because the way you’re looking, he could not be held responsible for where his hands would wander if they were free. 

Eddie gives himself over to the character he’s meant to be playing, and it’s really not all that hard acting pathetic and desperate for you. The lights he’s all tangled up in tighten as the girls holding either end pull them taut, and the room fills with their giggling as they laugh at him.

But honestly, Eddie doesn’t have any idea what the rest of the reindeer are doing. All he can focus any of his attention on is you in that damn teddy, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger to make him look at you, smirking like he’s a piece of dirt you wouldn’t let lick your kneecap, let alone anything more erogenous, no matter how hard he begged you for it.

Yet somehow, he’s only more eager to try.

He knows they have the shot they want almost immediately, but they go through a few more poses just to have options. In one, they have you stand with one of your heels planted on Eddie’s chest and if you stay like that much longer, the fake cum on his tip is gonna have company.

Finally, they’re satisfied and there’s a great deal of droning chatter that sort of fades into static as they start to move on to the next shoot.

The rest of the girls wander off, but you kneel and start to unwrap the strands of Christmas lights for him. And they weren’t that tight, but you still massage his wrists once they’re freed and lean in close to his ear so you can whisper how well he did. His cock kicks up all over again at your gentle doting and he wonders if you’ll keep this up tonight at hom—your place.

Once he’s freed, you start to wind up the lights in your hand and glance around for the PAs who are nowhere to be found. You then push the coil into Eddie’s hands and give him a level look.

“See if you can sneak those out,” you instruct him with a smirk. “I’ve got plans for them later.”

ty for reading, merry late whatever-you-celebrate! ❄️💋

[mathexamhelper-tutor]

[ericscroptop]

Work Hard, Play Harder

✧ pairing: bf! sunwoo x gf! reader

✦ genre: smut w/ hints of fluff

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, p!rn without plot, inexperienced and a bit shy reader, nervous/insecure about sex, fingering, dirty talk, c!m tasting from both, praising, pet names, cursing, kissing, marking, fluff

✦ word count: 5.4k words

✧ synopsis: you laying on his bed is so enticing. he can’t help that he wants to play with you and show your fried brain a little fun.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

How foolish of you to think even for a second that you’d be able to get homework done with Kim Sunwoo in the same room?

Normally, you’d get your assignments and whatnot done in isolation because you work best with minimal-to-zero distractions. But today, you’ve somehow let Sunwoo convince you to do homework in his bedroom.

The past couple days, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend much. Schedules were opposite and conflicting, so it was only today that each of you had a slot of free time.

Still, you recalled that you had a task to complete before a deadline that was approaching. The sooner you finished it, the better.

Today seemed like a perfect day to lock in, but Sunwoo kept texting you that he missed you so much, insisting you two should hang out.

While you also missed him, it would be the smarter choice to get your homework done before you hangout with him. Which, is what you tried to tell him. But while you were mid-text, he was already knocking on your door.

You lectured him for bothering you, knowing you’d fold for his big pleading eyes, plump pouty lips, and his sweet voice.

Next thing you know, he’s telling you to grab your laptop and book bag, and driving you over to his place to work on schoolwork together. There’s a few assignments he should probably get around to doing anyways, too. So, a study date it is then!

That’s how you found yourself lying on your stomach over his bed, head facing the end of it, laptop and other essentials spread out in front. Meanwhile, he sat with his back against his pillows and headboard, laptop sitting over his lap.

After about an hour of having small snacks, chatting, and catching up from the days you’ve been apart, (which is exactly why you needed to be locked up alone to avoid distractions like him), you sighed when you realized the time you let pass and recalled what you were supposed to be doing in the first place.

Perhaps it was good to recharge with Sunwoo before getting to work; that way, you both at least got some of that pent-up excitement out from not seeing each other.

Well… that’s what you had hoped.

Now, you each settled into your own spots on his bed, a blended playlist of you guys’ current favorite songs playing faintly in the back via his laptop. Some sound was needed to fill the silence while you two worked.

You bounced from tab to tab on your screen while you began researching and citing quotes for the paper you’re working on. It’s tedious and frustrating to craft it, but you’re determined to write a mean paper that’ll hopefully get you an A.

Every now and then, you’d just stare at your screen blankly, complaining mentally in discouragement, or trying to conjure up ideas for the way you phrase your next sentences. But in other moments, you get inspired and furiously type away, getting into the groove of having ideas flow out smoothly.

Sunwoo smiles to himself when he hears your fingers clicking the keys at an unremitting rhythm. It seems like you know what you’re doing, when in contrast, his discussion post prompt is sending daggers at him, patiently waiting for him to actually start it.

It’s not difficult to become distracted, especially given the fact that he’s doing something mundane like homework. It’s such a chore, one that was crucial to his academic success.

Bullshitting his assignment or procrastinating even more sounds inviting. Even you had your moments where you don’t try as hard and leave things till last minute because it’s exhausting to even think about. But Sunwoo said you guys would do homework, so he should get on it.

Your form working diligently on his bed only distracted him further. How could he focus when watching your engrossed state looked more appealing?

He’s unable to see your face of concentration, only listening to the occasional exasperated groans that would leave your throat, and watching the way your feet would sway in the air in different directions, at various tempos and patterns. He’s noticed how fidgety you’d get sometimes, particularly with your legs. Your feet also would rub together and draw shapes into his comforter while you worked.

It’s endearing to watch your habits, not aware that he has disregarded his discussion post to admire you instead.

As he’s observing the way your legs roamed freely, he shamelessly starts to wander his eyes over the rest of your body.

Since all you planned for today was to be swamped in your paper, you dressed comfortably. A baggy t-shirt and sweat shorts was your attire of the day.

Your legs are left exposed. He soaks in the detailing of your skin, and runs his eyes to your bottom.

Sunwoo likes to think he’s a respectful man, and you’d definitely agree. He’s always patient with you, respecting your boundaries and has always been a gentleman. He treats you like any other human— with kindness, but is extra affectionate and clingy because he’s obsessed with you.

He thinks highly of you. While he loves you for your personality and quirks, he also sees you as visually stunning. His heart pumps fondly and blood rushes when he eyes your physical features.

While decorous, he has to admit that he does stare at various parts of you for a little too long. How could he not in situations like now, where your rear is facing him? Somehow, your oversized shirt bunched upwards, leaving the swell of your ass for his viewing pleasure.

Even though you were clearly clothed, he still had an imagination. He started picturing how your ass would look unveiled. Thinking about exploring every curve of your body with his lips and hands. Wondering about what delicious sounds you’d make when doing naughty things with him.

Unconsciously, you were tantalizing him.

His mind is going towards the gutter. You’re just trying to write your paper like the good student you were, while he was yearning for some attention from you. You were on the bed together, but you made it clear you meant business.

Though, Sunwoo doesn’t think he can wait much longer to hold you for as long as he pleases.

“Baby, can you read this real quick for me?” he suddenly asks. His eyes are entreating as they look at the back of your head. He still has yet to write a single word for his assignment, meaning he just came up with an excuse for you to pay any mind to him. His laptop isn’t even over him anymore; it’s been pushed to the side.

“Gimme a sec.” you uttered, fingers typing quickly and face still directed towards your screen.

He grins mischievously in the short amount of time you finish writing out one last sentence before switching your focus towards him. The grin falters into a faint smile once you fully turn around, scooting up until you’re right next to him.

“You actually got some work done? I’m impressed.” you scoffed, prepared to read his assignment.

You see he doesn’t bring his laptop to his lap or hand it over to you, making you raise your brows in question. Instead, he makes the move of pulling you in between his legs.

“Hey! What are you doing! Stop—” you choked out but interrupted yourself with broken giggles due to how ticklish you were.

Your heart was pounding, startled and delirious as your form was now in between his legs. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly with your back pressed against his chest.

His chin settles into your shoulder, turning his head to graze his lips over the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been working too hard. Let’s take a break, hm?”

You’re stiff as hell. You guys have kissed one another, made out, cuddled, took naps together, etc., but your body and mind still malfunctioned when you were this near to him.

All the focus centered on the tension from close proximity. You could hear his breathing and sense his air from such fanning over your neck and ear.

“You didn’t actually get anything done, did you?” you muttered, fingers clutching the skin of your thighs as he invaded your personal space. It’s not that you didn’t like it— quite the opposite, actually. You just didn’t know how to react.

“How can I when we haven’t properly spent time together?” he hums, pushing some of your hair back to start leaving soft kisses over your sensitive spots. Instinctively, you shut your eyes and angle your neck, succumbing to his tender gesture.

“Sunwoo… my paper.” you reminded him as his kisses were seemingly growing fervid. Somehow your shirt exposed your shoulder, riveting him to redirect his mouth to the spot. A hand of his rubs your clothed tummy, dragging wet kisses across the bare skin.

Your body shivers, goosebumps appearing instantly. Uninhibitedly, you squeezed your thighs and let out a shaky breath. Your body temperature was rising and you felt so small.

“It can wait. I can’t. I missed you so much.” he voices. His hands loosen from your stomach and he brings one of them to your hair, smoothing over your locks.

By this point, you gathered strength to turn your head somewhat to look at him. With his free veiny hand, he cups your cheek, searching every inch of your face with his orbs as if he’s trying to memorize it.

“Did you miss me, too? Tell me you missed me.” his big dark, yet soft eyes hold vulnerability and longing. His look leaves your throat parched, still growing hot all over. You even feel something akin to a heartbeat down south between your legs.

Sunwoo was so needful. That’s one of the things you liked about him. He was cool and collective to the public and friends, but when around you, he never abstained his openness about how much your presence soothed him.

“You know I always miss you.” you answered, still maintaining eye contact with him as he continued to hold your cheek. Deep down, he knew your answer but still wanted to be affirmed aloud. It contented him, but he needed you to touch him back now.

He takes initiative to close more distance between you two, leaning his face further until his nose is brushing against yours.

You can feel each other’s breath face to face. He brushes his features over yours, his nose and lips grazing past your own in a gentle back-and-forth motion.

“Kiss me, baby.” he ghosts over your lips. You’re breathless by just his teasing actions, your own nails digging into your thighs to keep yourself grounded.

It’s impossible to refuse his precious plead. He’s caught you like a fish on a hook. You fall for the bait of his charms, and connect your lips with his own.

The kisses shared start out moderate, lips meeting and touching, pressure light. Your back still rests against his chest, slightly at an angle to continuously kiss him. He keeps you near to his liking by not letting that one hand of his part from your face.

It doesn’t take long before a few tastes make you both greedy.

The sounds of your lips puckering and the sensation of one another’s appendage meeting together creates heightened sensations. You each start fighting for more. It evolves into something wetter, his tongue darting out to flick against yours, tongue tips touching.

Desperation clouded your mind with the way this has grown into making out. Sunwoo has your body unable to remain calm, wiggling and unthinkingly pushing your core down into his mattress

Your breathing alongside his, has grown heavier. Although whipped in chasing your lips, he clearly catches the low moan that lets out your throat.

The naughty sound has him smirking against your mouth. There’s excitement within him, mentally and physically. His manhood is getting pumped full of blood, warming up and swelling the more you two make out fiercely.

His lustful instincts get him to maneuver his free hand towards your thigh. Since your shorts were generously short, he had easy access to your bare skin. His palm and fingers stroked it, making your spine and pussy shiver at how close he was to your private area.

As you two continue with the fiery embrace, he’s only wishing for more contact and intimacy. His fingers start trailing towards your inner thigh, dangerously closer to your covered sex.

Having his hand near such a concealed and sensitive spot makes you shut your thighs together on impulse, thus squeezing his hand in the process.

You butt your back against him the more touchy he gets, causing you to take note of something firm prodding into your lower back.

If you’re not mistaken, you think that is his—

“You got me so hard, baby.” Sunwoo rumbles, parting lips for a moment to catch your breaths. He’s burning for more of you. And while he also is igniting something within you, you’re unfamiliar in what happens next.

“Feel that? It’s ‘cause of you doll.” he slightly pushes himself against you, as if you two aren’t already close together. His erection is hard to not notice now, bringing you interest yet anxiousness.

While you guys have been dating for a decent amount of time, there hasn’t been any initiation of doing anything past kissing and cuddling. You didn’t think much of it— as you were still a virgin. And as horny as you still got from time-to-time, you were a tiny bit apprehensive for the day you did do something sexual with someone.

You imagine that right now is when things go further for you two.

“Sunwoo… I haven’t… I’ve never…” your cheeks got hot and reddened, feeling a bit embarrassed to have this conversation. You didn’t want to let your boyfriend down or kill the mood.

He stilled behind you, eyes softening once your words clicked in his head. Your eyes avoided his own, fidgeting with your limbs.

Although you felt mortified, Sunwoo believes he should be the one to feel ashamed. You two never had the conversation of sex before, so how would he have known? But nevertheless, the last thing he’d want you to feel is distressed or cross a boundary he shouldn’t have.

“Shit… did I make you uncomfortable? Hey, look at me.” he thumbs your cheek with one hand while the other goes to enfold one of your own, holding it lovingly.

You do look at him, worried that you’d disappoint him with your lack of experience, palms all sweaty.

“I… I’ve never done anything past making out.” you admitted more clearly.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready or comfortable with it. I’m sorry if I got too carried away.” he offers you an apologetic look, still caressing your cheek delicately.

“We should get back to doing our homework. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” his voice is genuine, tinged with regret of letting his hormones loose.

The look on his face, the way he shows that he respects you, and his apology (that you believe was not needed but still kind), has you melting. He’s definitely sheepish, but you don’t want him feeling that way.

If anything, Sunwoo was working you up. Sexual frustration was becoming a bitch to you. Your core’s experiencing a wind of warmth, unable to dismiss it. You think you need some sort of alleviation.

“Babe,” you reached a hand up to his hair, shaking your head while massaging his fluffy strands.

“I really want to do stuff with you. So bad, Sunwoo.” there’s so much honestly within your words and tone, longing and sentiment coating your orbs.

“I just don’t know… I don’t know how i’ll react or if you’ll like me.” you almost whisper, suddenly insecure of yourself now that you’re admitting this aloud to your boyfriend.

Every now and then, you wondered what it would be like to get intimate with another person. It would be vulnerable for you to show your bare body to someone. You can’t help but overthink that Sunwoo might not feel satisfied with you, or that you wouldn’t enjoy it— possibly finding it uncomfortable, instead.

Without a doubt you trusted him, but fearing unfamiliar territory was natural. You simply didn’t know what to expect.

How would you know unless you actually tried it?

A scoff comes out of Sunwoo, followed by an empathetic smile.

“Of course I like you, silly girl.” he chuckles, reaching for the hand that was in his hair and connecting it with his own. He gives it a reassuring squeeze, prompting the corners of your lips to raise in seeing and hearing him make that gentle sound.

“I love you, Y/n.” I will cherish every part of you. You’re so damn beautiful.” he brings your hand to his lips, dotting soft kisses over your knuckles. His other hand stays on your hip protectively.

“You’re safe with me. I wanna treat my girl right. I’m yours.” he means all of it, clear sincerity as bright as day twined in his tone and words.

Hearing his words is dulcet to your ears. There’s this wave that washed over you. It’s like a sea that gets you lost. Lost but secure from his touches and statements.

“I want you to feel comfortable with me. You’re the priority here. If you don’t wanna do anything that’s completely fine.”

“But if you wanna, we can start slow. If you give me the okay, i’ll take care of where it aches.”

It feels like your tummy does a somersault at that. You’re positive your cheeks are flushing, all rosy with how he always knows the right things to say. He really does care about you.

As if on cue, your pussy throbs more when he acknowledges that it must be craving for some stimulation.

You’re feeling so shy about letting him see or touch your bare sex, but one look at those bambi eyes of his and you think you’re ready. Ready for Sunwoo to help pleasure you.

Amenability glazes your eyes when you look at him. Although still slightly lacking confidence, you’re sure you want to take your relationship somewhat further.

“Okay…” it comes out faintly from your voice. You pause for a few before gaining strength to speak up a bit. “Touch me, Sunwoo. Please.”

Sunwoo’s gaze is tender as you spoke with vulnerability, granting him permission to un shield a part of yourself that you reserved for someone you trust and care for deeply.

That someone being him.

A part of him is nervous to touch you. He’s not planning on going past fingering with you for now, but he still wants to make this an enjoyable experience for you.

Aside from that ounce of concern, his body is overly excited to reach third base with you. It’s been awhile since he’s sensually touched someone else. Your existence brought him so much warmth, and he often craved to have you in sexual ways.

He’s been a patient boy. And now, you were going to allow for him to rub you as he pleased.

He’s determined and delighted to give you some delectable pleasure. To show you how much he cares about you through this new form of intimacy.

You feel like you’re hallucinating and definitely are perspiring and clammy from anticipation. Even so, you weren’t going to let your nerves fuck you over. You wanted to try this.

Once more, he double checks to ensure your consent, and you simply nod with a positive ‘yes.’

“I’ll take it slow. Just relax for me and I’ll do all the work. Lemme know if you wanna stop or if anything hurts, alright, baby?

“I love you, Sunwoo.” you smiled, all misty eyed from how caring he was being in this moment.

“I love you, too, Y/n.” he returns your smile, then gravitates his lips towards yours. You kiss passionately, but the embrace of lips is still smooth. It further stresses the respect and cosmic attachment he has for you— and vice versa.

After lip locking, his hands begin to explore your skin. With you sitting in between his legs, he directs you to lean back comfortably. His hands creep their way under your shirt, tracing your bare sides up and down like he had all the time in the world.

He also patted at your stomach, smoothing over it protectively. Instead of diving his fingers straight into your sex, he wanted to ease up your body first to get used to these sensual touches of his.

Slithering downwards from your abdomen, he continues to love up on your body, massaging the flesh of your thighs.

It’s his mission and wish to soften your core and muscles, getting you to enjoy this moment. Additionally to his tactile movements, he pairs them with words laced with so much sugar that he’s starting to give you a rush.

“Body so soft.”

“Never wanna let you go.”

“You belong here in my arms, hm.”

“Such a sweet, sweet girl.”

In between compliments, he rotates from kissing your temple, cheek, and the corner of your mouth. Your head rests back against his shoulder, eyes resting shut as you feel yourself getting more and more comfortable and aroused by the minute.

When his dominant hand finally finds itself in between your legs and over your clothed crotch, your breathing grows shaky from him cupping at it, shivering at the hold.

“You okay?” he doesn’t remove his hand but stills it, making sure you’ve not grown uncomfortable.

To answer, your thighs squeeze his hand, willingly grinding down into it.

“Keep going, show me more.” you whimpered, getting Sunwoo to smug at your reaction to his efforts. Oh, just you wait.

“Gonna take off your shorts, hm?”

You let him do it, and when they’re off, your bottom is left in your cotton panties. They’re not the most sexy undergarment, and you honestly wish you would’ve worn a different pair. But that was not on Sunwoo’s mind at all.

All he cared about was that he’s one more layer closer to his treasure. He’s beyond excited to meet your pussy. The view of your soft panties being the only thing that comes in between his hand and your folds is heart-stopping.

His fingers experimentally touch your pussy lips through the fabric, slightly applying pressure teasingly. You quake at the touch, a breath stuck in your throat as he strokes the area.

His plump lips part and shift into an amused expression, pleased in how he’s getting you going.

“Hurry… please, Sunwoo.” you whined, cheeks definitely blushing at how overly needful you sound— and are.

A chuckle escapes from Sunwoo’s throat, “Patience, doll. You’ll get my fingers, ‘kay?”

Given how keyed up you are, he strips the last bit of fabric off with your cooperation. Now tossed away, your sex is exposed to the air, and Sunwoo finally gets to touch it raw.

His fingertips carefully sweep over your vulva, tonguing at his teeth when he feels moisture. You shyly mewl at the bare contact.

“Fuck, so wet for me. You excited, baby?” his throat rumbles.

You whined again, red-faced at the vulnerability of all this. In response, he kisses your cheek for comfort, still exploring your outside parts.

“Don’t be embarrassed. How can you be so cute and sexy, hm?”

Before you know it, he finds your clit and nudges at it with diligence, earning a squeak turned moan from you. Bingo.

It inclines you to push your hips upwards, squirming at your boyfriend touching you like this. It’s so different to have someone else play with your cunt. Different, but you can see yourself becoming addicted to it.

He only allows himself to tease your bundle of nerves for a few before diverting his fingers lower, starting to trace around your hole.

“Relax for me.” he murmurs. You let out a breath, allowing him to use his left hand to rub your knee in support, and encourages you to spread your legs out a little more. “Doing so good. Yeah, that’s it.”

After coaxing you, he unexpectedly removes his hand away from your sex. You huff out and draw your mouth open in confusion and protest, but nothing else comes out when you watch Sunwoo stick a finger in between his lips, too stunned at the close-up scene of something so erotic.

For extra insurance, he pops a finger in his mouth to lube it with saliva, lathering it well. He’s aiming for this to go as smoothly as possible.

He smirks while you watch, humming before taking it out and moving back to your cunt.

Once again, he circulates over your entrance, teasing you more before he at last, slips that one finger prudently past your slit.

A whimper bounces out of your mouth from the initial stretch, accommodating to the sensation of your boyfriend’s finger making its debut.

“Ahhh, mhm…”

“Shhhh… It’s okay, I gotchu. Gonna make this feel so good for you.” He gives you heartening kisses, still lingering not that far in yet, giving you time to soak it in slowly.

He’s pretty patient. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. Even if you’re impatient for it, he keeps his movements gentle and careful.

A little at a time, he has a decent portion of his finger inserted. He doesn’t move immediately so you can fully adjust.

You then give him the green light, and so he starts playing with your inside.

His finger testingly swirls, intrigued to discover this new territory that gets to be his home— for hopefully forever.

Soft moans come out your mouth before you realize, and you’re suddenly too aware of this intimate situation, feeling like you’re getting a fever.

It’s taking everything in you to not squirm. You opt for burying your face into your boyfriend’s neck in attempt to cover more smutty sounds and burning face.

Sunwoo is displeased with that, though. He halts his finger, pausing any action.

Your brows furrow and the sudden lack of motion has you lifting your head up.

“Why’d you stop?” your eyes were filled with worry. Maybe he’s bored or something’s wrong?

“Don’t hide from me.” his voice is serious. “Lemme hear those pretty moans”

Oh.

His finger moves again. Only this time, he starts to curl it and begins a slow flow of driving it in and out of you.

“Hmmphhh!” you whimpered, breath shaky and heart beat ascending at how sensational it is to have someone fucking you with just their finger.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he smirks, not planning on stopping until he pushes you to your breaking point.

Your sex hormones are going wild, feening for incessant sexual pleasure until you can’t take it anymore.

You’re bucking down to meet the movement of his finger, it having grown not enough rather quicker than you anticipated. Sunwoo has to titter at that, wowed to see how fast you’ve adjusted, and yearn for more.

Since you’re so desperate, he doesn’t warn you when he pushes a second finger past your hole. You gasp, followed by a curse word at the additional stretch.

“Shit, this tight pussy must love me.” his voice is breathy and deep as he feels your walls grip at his fingers.

He’s fucking your cunt now with two fingers, gradually with more pressure and firmer. His fingers pump against the ridges of your walls, moving and bending them, thus bringing you highly concentrated pleasure to your core.

Your arousal soaks his long fingers, above turned on that your hot boyfriend’s hand is creating a new high for you that you thought was unimaginable.

He inflames you even more when he starts to nip at your neck. His mouth’s latched onto your skin while down below, his thrusts just become deeper and deeper. He’s too keen on giving you a divine time that you’d think about for the rest of your life.

“Right there, Sunwoo! Oh my God, s-so good!” you gasped out when he hits a spot that scratches your senses so good.

“Right there, huh?”

Luckily, your boy knows what he’s doing, so he continues to hit that spot continually and not let up. He believes now is when he enhances your brain and body further by making use of his thumb to position over your clit.

He thumbs at your swollen bud, massaging it in an unhurried, but consistent rhythm.

And that sparks something inside you lower region. If you thought your pussy was aching before, it definitely is now.

Your breaths sound quicker and he takes note of you bringing a thumb to your mouth, biting down on it while mewls still slip past your lips. His pumps persist while your walls suck his fingers in like a vacuum as he moves in and out.

Every sound and the sight of you writhing, unable to remain calm, encourages him to not dwindle down on his ministrations.

The pressure applied towards your clit is even but remains slow, making you savor every second of stimulation you get, gradually increasing and turning almost-tender to be touched.

Hot pangs hit in your belly, and you feel like you’re starting to sweat, blood pressure spiking. You’re whimpering pathetically, muscles burning and tensing to break free and let yourself collapse.

It’s clear to Sunwoo that you can’t handle this any longer, evident he’s going to bring you to cum.

Squishy sounds and breathy moans are harmonic to the ears while he’s focused on getting you to snap.

“Gonna cum on my fingers? Is baby girl gonna let my fingers get even more soaked with her cum?”

Mhmphhh! Su— Sunwoo.” you cry out.

“Go ‘head. Lemme feel it.” he coaxes, and like the good girl you are, you do let loose.

As your knot unties, you deeply moan, hand that was near your mouth now gripping at his comforter. Your orgasm takes over you, shivering slightly, ass and thighs becoming spastic.

Your eyes are heavy and you see stars that are sparkling and fading, any sounds coming from the two of you sounding distant as you come down.

“I’m so proud of you, doll.” he mumbles as you catch your breath, face falling into his neck. While his fingers still remain in you, he uses his free hand to caress your head, commending you for staying strong and cumming for him.

As you progressively revert closer back to normal, your mind softens, and you’re craving to melt against your boyfriend. You need to logout from reality, Sunwoo having tired you out from getting busy with your pussy.

He coos at you when he makes you whimper and lift your head at the removal of his fingers. To your surprise, he then gravitates those fingers towards his mouth, closing around them and seemingly drinking up whatever stuck to his digits.

Your eyebrows furrow, joined with the part of your lips at him willingly tasting your fluids. He just looks at you, making exaggerated sounds from sucking and sends you a flirty wink.

You shiver and divert your gaze in shyness, flushing as you look back curiously, watching him pull out his licked-clean fingers.

“I knew you’d taste good.” he growls from the act and your essence getting savored by his taste buds.

“Wanna try?” he asks like nothing, seeing that you’re not calling him out for it, just eyeing him inquisitively.

You don’t say anything, but you still have that look gracing your orbs. He dips his fingers down to your core again, lathering them up in more of your spilled cum. You feel tingly during those seconds that he does so, and he raises them up again, nodding at you if you wanted a taste, too.

Your face leaning in slowly is enough of an answer for him, so he goes to hold your chin with the other hand, delicately slipping his fingers into your hot mouth.

You kindly close around them, timidly licking a finger tip for just a second, then getting comfortable to lap up the rest of your own spills. Your teeth even rake over his digits and your eyes fluttered shut with a hum before opening them.

When you do, there still lays a cutey-appearance behind those eyes he adores, even with you licking your own cum.

From that moment, he recognizes that his obsession for you will be death of him.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, stroking the tip of your chin.

“That’s all you, baby girl.”

“So perfect.”

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