#and looking at others make great things fills me with such dread and i feel so selfish

[m4sc4r4]

More on bad relationship habits in the tags

[jamespotterismydaddy]

The Wolf's Betrothed

dark!aemond x niece!reader

summary: prepare to be kidnapped by your delulu uncle

A/N: this is based off a request that asked for non-con so this is the closest i've written to it but i still think it's dub-con??? idk pls lmk what you think

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, incest, smut, knife kink, blood kink,, breeding kink, forced marriage, murder

word count: 1,929

You feel content. Cregan Stark is a good, honourable man and he will make a fine husband, is what you continue to repeat in your head as your carriage makes its way to Winterfell. You travel without your family, being sent early to meet your husband to be and you’re nervous. You met few Northernmen on Dragonstone and you fear the cold, but you know it’s for the best. This alliance could be the thing that puts your mother on the throne. Though, as you get closer to your destination, a sense of dread begins to set in. 

That’s when you hear it, the beating of wings, shortly followed by screaming. The carriage comes to a halt so swift that you’re thrown from your seat.

“Princess!” One of your handmaidens exclaims as she helps you back up.

“I-I’m alright.” You say as you find your footing. You make your way to the door. “We must go.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the guards?” The other girl says nervously.

“They’re as good as dead.” You say as you throw open the door. Your men that are left, fight for their lives against the few green soldiers. They don’t need many when they have a dragon. You glance up to the sky and see her… Vhagar.

“Fuck.” You murmur as you hop to the ground, your handmaidens on your tail as you begin to run towards the forest.

You pant as you go, trying not to trip on your long skirts, snow filling your boots. You know you need a plan but the only weapon you have is a small dagger and you’ve never been a great talent in hand-to-hand combat.

You’re close to the treeline now, barely 200 yards away. You know Aemond won’t torch it if he thinks you’re in there. All you have to do is make it. To. The. Treeline.

But you don’t. It goes up in flames in front of you and you have to turn and shield your face from the heat. Your handmaiden, who was in a much less elaborate dress than you, made it further, and she goes up in flames with it. You turn, grabbing the hand of the other girl and begin to go south before you see three men waiting for you. You turn north and begin to run but you don’t make it far before Vhagar lands in front of you.

“No…” You breathe out as you backup, your handmaiden clinging to your arm. You know you’re caught now.

Two men catch up to you and grab you each by the shoulders, giving you no time to draw your dagger as Aemond descends his dragon.

“Dōna mandianna.” (sweet niece) He says as he approaches. “Sepār hae gevie hae nyke mōrī ūndan ao.” (just as beautiful as I last saw you) He tilts your chin up gently.

“Release my bride. You can do as you wish with that one.” He says to his guards as he glances at your handmaiden. The two men grab her.

“Princess, help me!” She cries out as she’s taken away.

“She’s no threat.” You say to your uncle, glaring up at him.

“My men deserve a reward.” He says offhandedly and you begin to wish she had died in the fire as well. You wish you died in the fire. His hand comes up to caress your face. “I have missed you.”

“I miss my brother.” You say with hate in your eyes.

“Hmm, an unfortunate circumstance.” He replies.

“Kinslayer.” You spit out at him.

He sighs and puts his hand on the small of your back. He is courteous with you, for now, as he leads you toward Vhagar. You let him, biding your time. He straps you in in front of him, his fingers gentle with you, as if you are the most precious thing he has ever laid his hands on.

No chance to jump then. You think to yourself, wishing you could’ve taken him with you once Vhagar was high enough to make the fall fatal.

You don’t speak to each other as he takes you closer to Winterfell. You look solemnly at the scorched land. It’s a pity to see, especially since it is the start of Spring. It should have been the start of new life, not the end of it. He holds his hand out to help you down the dragon and you accept it, glad that he chose not to make you grovel. You know he could. You know he’s not above such things. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as he leads you through the castle, the place crawling with Greens.

You arrive at Lord Stark’s chambers, Aemond letting you in. You’re slightly surprised when you don’t see Cregan but you think perhaps that your uncle is keeping him in the dungeons instead. “And what of my husband?” Aemond freezes when you use the word. 

“That cunt wasn’t your husband.” He says lowly.

“Wasn’t or isn’t?” You ask, not fully believing that he would kill the lord of Winterfell. You back up slightly. Aemond may be in front of the door but you wish to put some distance between you.

“I would not let them trap you with that mutt.” He says as he steps forward. You step back. “You deserve someone worthy of your status.”

“Aemond…” You breathe out, your eyes well with tears.

“It was always meant to be you and I. I’ll take care of you… I love you.” His eye gleams, his words full of possession.

You’re aware that you’ll only have this one chance so you reach for the sheathed dagger. You know you can’t kill him, but you can break him. You lift the blade to your throat in one quick motion but it’s too late, Aemond’s hand is on yours before you can break skin. He yanks the dagger from your hand and throws it to the side.

“Why would you do that!” He looks manic, frightened as he holds your wrists in his hands.

“Cregan!” You cry out as a last resort. You know it’s futile but it’s the only thing you can think of. “Cregan!”

Your uncle slams a hand over your mouth, hot rage in his eyes. “Stop screaming for him! He’s dead! I killed him.” His other hand falls to your waist. “If it is a husband you yearn for, I can fix that.” He takes the hand off your mouth to grab his own dagger.

“I don’t want any husband. I want him!” You slam your fists against Aemond’s chest.

“No you don’t!” He shouts back and he shifts behind you, pulling your back to his front, holding his dagger to you with one hand and your chin with the other. “It is that silly feminine loyalty. But don’t worry, it will be towards me soon enough.” 

He holds your face tightly and lifts the dagger to your lip, cutting ever so gently. Just enough to get a drip of blood. He lets you break yourself free and run to the door so he can slit his own lip. You yank on the door handle but it’s locked and before you can even turn, Aemond’s hand is in your hair, pulling your mouth towards his. The kiss is messy and bloody but by Old Valyrian standards, you are wed. Your uncle barely gives you a chance to come up for air as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You whimper slightly as he sucks on your lip, mixing your blood further. 

“You didn’t think I was going to bed you without making you my wife first, did you?” He says so softly, the kind look in his eyes misplaced. “I would never do that to you.”

“Please don’t.” You beg him.

“Why must you look so frightened? I only want to make love to you, to my bride.” He moves behind you, nimble fingers undoing your dress. “I don’t like it when you fight with me. I want us to be happy.” He tugs the gown down so you’re only in your shift. Just the sight of your ankles, your shoulders is enough for him to go crazy with lust. He can feel himself growing in his trousers the longer he looks at you. “My beautiful girl, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” (my bride) He coos, mesmerized by you.

You’re pulled in for another kiss and you nip at his lip. He groans as he parts his mouth from yours.

“Be gentle with me and I shall do the same with you.” You know it’s a warning, a warning that you should most definitely heed. “We will have more time to play later, darling but for now, we must consummate immediately.” He says as he leads you to the bed by your hand. He places a palm on your tummy. “I shall pray to the Gods’ that my seed takes tonight.”

“Of course, husband.” Your voice is emotionless but he still seems pleased by your words.

He smiles and then lifts off your shift. His cold fingertips trace over your breasts and collarbones, and down to your navel before he hooks them on your small clothes and pulls them down. “Your beauty is unmatched, my love” He says as his eye runs over your body. “Lie down on the bed for me.” He watches you walk and obey as he undoes his trousers. Your husband doesn’t take any of his clothes off, only pulling his cock out and beginning to pump it as he gazes at you. You’re nervous as he is incredibly well-endowed but you are inclined to believe that he won’t be rough with you.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He says as he climbs between your legs, noticing your fear. “It won’t hurt for long.” He takes a moment to rub his cockhead over your cunt, using his precum as lube before slipping in.

You gasp at the intrusion, the feeling of your maidenhead breaking as he defiles you but he doesn’t move at first, only peppering kisses across your face that are almost… comforting?

“I’m going to move now.” He says and begins to slide in and out, causing you to wince.

“Not yet, it hurts…” You say to him but he just runs his thumb over the cut on your lip.

“You can take it, darling.” He replies as he thrusts in and out of you. He licks the blood off his thumb before using it to rub your clit. You hate how you enjoy the feeling. “Good girl.” He says as he begins to pick up speed. He rubs harder, clearly far too close to cumming himself and not wanting to be the only one. “I love you.”

You turn your head away as he says it and he begins to fuck into you harder, pinching your clit now and causing you to scream. If he can’t make you love him, then he can just make you cum. 

As soon as he feels you begin to squeeze your walls around him, he finishes, sheathing his cock as deep as he can inside of you in hopes of breeding you.

“My perfect wife.” He admires as he runs his fingers through your hair. He presses a kiss to your lips before resting his head on your breasts so he can listen to your heartbeat.

You lie there, confused. Part of you wants him to fuck you again, the other part hopes he falls asleep so you can drive his own dagger through his heart.

Oh the woes of newlyweds.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[mariclerc]

What about Charles dreaming about the reader cheating on him? And him being all clingy about it

Thank you so much for this request, I found it so interesting and funny. I hope you like thisss 😋😋

A driver nightmare | cl16

Summary: when Charles dreams about you and it's not usually something pleasant for the both of you. Warnings: fluff, slightly possessive Charles and a little bit of angst.

You and Charles have been dating for a couple of years, and although people sometimes say that it is suffocating to date someone for such a long time, for the two of you it is not like that since you always find something new about each other and end up falling in love over and over again. And it's a nice thing because there are quite strong feelings between the two of you.

But lately Charles has been a bit scattered, so to speak, and you have no idea why is that behavior coming...

So, one night Charles lies asleep next to you, your breathing is even and deep.

“Another night, another nightmare, great...” Charles says as he sighs softly.

He stirs in his sleep, his brow furrowed... The dream is vivid and so painful. You are there, his love, his world, his whole life, is with another man... The laughter, intimacy - things that should be reserved only for the two of you, are being shared with someone else. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead.

He jolts awake, heart pounding. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of disturbance. He finds you there sleeping peacefully, with a serene and angelic face; relief washes over him, but the lingering dread from the dream is a heavy weight on his chest.

Lately he's had a couple of nightmares about you with someone else, and no matter how much he tries to get answers about it, it's all in vain since it's just a nightmare, that's just it... The thing is, to him, everything feels so real and vivid that he actually swears you're not by his side at the moment.

He whispers. “Oh no... It's getting worse.”

He lies there, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the nightmare, his mind races over and over. He knows it's irrational because you would never do this to him. But the images are so real that it hurts him a lot.

***

Morning comes, a sliver of light peeking through the curtains. You stir in bed, stretch, and smile softly at him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you smiled at his sleeping form. Your voice is soft and melodic, the sunlight catches your eyes, making them sparkle.

“Morning darling.” he says, his voice is rough with sleep, but he forces a smile for you.

You sigh a little bit. “You seem so tired cha. Another nightmare?” you reached out to stroke his hair.

He nodded. “Just a bit baby, but it's nothing to worry about.”

He pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair, the scent of your shampoo is comforting. For a moment, the fear and anxiety fades away.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything, okay?” you say softly at him.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” he sighs. “It's just... It's a little complicated.”

He squeezes your hand, trying to reassure himself as much as you.

***

The days pass and Charles continues to be plagued by nightmares at night time. He becomes increasingly withdrawn, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a shadow of doubt.

“I’m losing my mind.” he whispered softly while grabbing his hair.

So one afternoon, as you two cuddle on the couch, you can notice the change in him.

“Charles, I know something's wrong. You’ve been distant.” You say in a whisper as you stroke his hair. “And I don't know if I've done anything wrong.”

Charles freezes, his heart pounding... You doing something bad? That is impossible for him, but he can't help but feel guilty.

“You doing something bad? Honey, that's impossible! Everything's fine, love... Just a bit stressed with work, that's all.” he says softly.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with concern for him. “You can't lie to me, Charles. I know you better than that, I know something's bothering you.” you say with a soft voice.

***

A couple of days later, the sunlight streams through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the room. The soft clinking of utensils can be heard as you move gracefully around the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

Charles enters, his hair ruffled from sleep, for you he looks so good, and he yawns widely. He stretches, his eyes still half-closed, and then pads over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Good morning, beautiful! What are you making that smells so so good?” he says while kissing your cheek.

You smile, leaning back into his warm embrace. “Morning, sleepyhead. I'm just making pancakes! Nothing serious.” you giggled.

Charles tightens his grip, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You're the best chérie.”

He nuzzles your neck, his breath tickling your skin. You giggled, turning around to face him.

“Stop it silly, you’re going to make me spill the batter!”

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I like watching you cook. You look so... domestic and cute.” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes playfully. ”Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He shrugs. “I guess so silly bean.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, his possessiveness momentarily surfacing.

“You’re mine, you know?”

You laugh softly, your heart melting at his affection. “I know my love, I know.”

Charles kisses your forehead, a tender gesture that speaks volumes.

Later that day, you and Charles are curled up on the couch, a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Suddenly Charles let out a long sigh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, your expression concerned. “What’s wrong, baby love?” you asked him.

Charles takes a deep breath.

“Well... I've been having these… nightmares... About you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Nightmares? About me?” you asked again and he nodded.

“Yeah... And it's something stupid, I know. But they’ve been getting worse because I see you with someone else. And it’s... it’s horrible, it feels horrible.” he finally confesses and he looks down, his voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, Charlie...” you reached out to take his hand. “It’s just a dream, baby. It doesn’t mean anything! Look, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

Charles looks up, searching your eyes for reassurance.

“I know, I know... But it’s been making me so crazy. I’m so sorry if I’ve been acting weird this couple of weeks.” he whispered and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him.

“Baby... You’re not acting weird, you’re just scared. And that’s okay! I’m here for you, always, okay?” you say while caressing his back.

Charles nods, relief washing over him.

He sighed and smiled at you. “I love you amour.”

“I love you too, more than words can say.”

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - four

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst; gun violence; blood;

word count: 7.1k

You woke up confused staring at the oddly familiar ceiling, filled with posters ripped from the old magazines you’d gotten at a second-hand store. When you were sixteen is sounded like a great edgy idea. 

You were home.

What the—? How? 

Sitting up, the room felt stifling, the air thick with the stale smell of old wood and the faintest hint of your father’s cigarette smoke, a scent you had hoped never to encounter again. The heavy feeling in your chest wasn’t just the dread of being back; it was the memories flooding back, threatening to drown you.

The sound of a muffled argument seeped through the thin walls, pulling you back to the present. Your heart pounded in your ears as you recognized the angry, slurred voice of your father.

He was shouting at someone, probably your brother, just like he used to. The familiar clinking of bottles and the crash of something being thrown sent a shiver down your spine.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the rough crappy carpet under your feet. You stood up shakily. The hallway stretched out before you, longer than it should have been, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

As you approached the living room, the noise grew louder, more distinct. Your father’s voice, filled with venom and rage, scared the living hell out of you.

You reached the doorway and peered in, your breath catching in your throat. There he was, towering over your JJ, his face twisted in anger. Your little brother was cowering, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes filled with fear. The scene was a haunting echo of so many nights you’d tried to forget.

“No,” you whispered, fear bubbling up inside you. “This isn’t happening.”

But it was.

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti. JJ flinched with every movement, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight made your heart ache.

“Get out of my sight, you worthless—” your father roared, his voice a terrifying growl.

“No!” you screamed, stepping into the room before you even realized you were moving. “Stop it!”

Your father turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they focused on you. For a moment, he only stared, probably to drunk to realize it was his own daughter.

Then, recognition set in, and his scowl deepened.

“You,” he spat, disgusted by your sight, “You think you can just walk back in here and tell me what to do?”

You couldn’t back down, not now. Not ever again.

“Leave him alone,” you said, your voice trembling, “He’s a child!”

Your father took a menacing step toward you, the bottle still clutched in his hand. “You’ve got some nerve, coming back here and talking to me like that. Looking exactly like her!”

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but you stood there. “I’m not afraid of you Luke,” you lied through your teeth.

His eyes flared with rage, and he raised the bottle, ready to hit you. You tensed up, waiting for the blow.

“Dad, please!” JJ’s voice broke through the tension, “Don’t hurt her.”

JJ’s plea just hung there, like this thin, fragile thread barely holding things together. For a second, your dad froze, his hand twitching, eyes darting between you and your brother.

And then, with this pissed-off roar, he chucked the bottle at the wall. It exploded into a million pieces, glass flying everywhere. The sound echoed through the house, loud and final, like it was the last brutal note in this nightmare that felt way too real.

“You’re a coward, you know that? Hitting your own children. You’re trash.” you spat out, the words flying from your mouth before you could stop them.

His face twisted, “What did you say to me?” He lunged at you, his hands going straight for your throat.

Panic hit hard as his grip tightened around your throat, stealing your breath. You clawed at his hands, desperate to break free, but he was way too strong, too determined.

Dark spots started creeping into your vision. You gasped, fighting for air, but he only squeezed harder. The room blurred and started spinning, and just when you thought you were about to pass out, his face began to change, shifting right in front of you. You blinked, trying to clear your head, and when you opened your eyes again, it wasn’t your dad choking you anymore.

It was Rafe.

Rafe's face, with a sickening grin, loomed over you. His eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, bore into yours. “You thought I’d be any different?” he sneered. “You signed your death sentence, pogue.”

The fear was paralyzing, like ice-cold dread flooding through your veins.Your heart hammered against your chest, but you couldn’t scream, couldn’t shout for help. His grip was solid, unbreakable, like he had no intention of letting go.

You struggled with everything you had, but it was like fighting through quicksand. Every move felt slow, heavy, like you were trapped in molasses.

As the edges of your vision began to fade, a new sound cut through the suffocating haze – JJ’s voice, calling your name. “Sis! Please, wake up! Wake up!”

With a final, desperate burst of energy, you tore yourself away from Rafe, his grip suddenly gone. You were falling, tumbling through darkness, and then–

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, your body drenched in sweat. The familiar ceiling of the motel room came into focus. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, and it made it hard to breathe.

Your hands went to your throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there. It was just a dream, you told yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. Just a nightmare.

As your breath began to steady, you turned your head, feeling the sheets rustle against your skin.

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, and your heart sank when you saw Rafe lying next to you, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful slumber. He was naked, his body partially covered by the sheets, a reminder of what you’d done hours ago.

A wave of nausea hit you, your stomach twisting with disgust — at him, at yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the image of his hands around your throat fresh and terrifying, making it hard to process how he could sleep so soundly. You slipped out of bed as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake him, and hurriedly grabbed your clothes, dressing in silence.

Standing in the cramped bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would wash away the nightmare. The coolness gave you a quick moment of clarity, but the dread still clung to you, heavy and unshakable. You stared at yourself in the mirror — pale, tired, and haunted.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. You needed to leave, clear your head, figure out what the hell to do next. Quietly, you slipped out of the bathroom, grabbed your keys from the nightstand, and took one last glance at Rafe. He was still asleep, completely clueless about the fear swirling inside you.

The motel hallway was dark and dead silent, except for the low hum of the vending machine down the hall. You made your way to the exit, and the cool night air hit your skin like a slap of reality. It was like stepping out of one world and into another — the difference so harsh, it almost felt unreal.

You walked a few more steps, but suddenly everything started spinning. Your vision blurred, and you felt lightheaded, your legs giving out as you slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe.

The panic attack hit you full force, your chest tightening, and your mind racing. You couldn't let Rafe see you like this. You couldn't let anyone see you like this. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm yourself down. You started counting your breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, trying to slow your racing heart. You thought of JJ, of how much he needed you to be strong.

You couldn't fall apart now.

You kept counting, kept breathing, the cool air helping to clear your head. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world started to come back into focus, the shadows in the hallway retreating.

You wiped away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks and stood up, feeling a little more in control.

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind. You were a dirty traitor.

The cold didn't couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this? 

You thought of JJ, of your friends, the people who had been there for you through everything. They’d never understand.

Hell, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You stopped and leaned against a lamppost, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You had to sort through this mess, had to figure out what was real and what was just the lingering effects of captivity and longing. Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain. 

An hour later, you made your way back to the motel, the guilt and self-doubt threatening to consume you entirely. You couldn't ignore the feeling that you'd betrayed everything you stood for by letting Rafe into your life, even if it was just for a moment of weakness.

As you got closer to the entrance, you spotted him at the front desk. He looked a mess — worried, disheveled, like he’d just woken up and thrown on some shorts in a rush. His face was tight with tension as he talked to the front desk guy, hands moving wildly, gesturing around like he was freaking out. 

Your pulse pounded as you walked in, not sure of what to say, what to do, how to approach him. The nightmare was still fresh.

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

The front desk guy shook his head, his expression apologetic.

"Sir, I haven't seen anyone come through here."

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, revealing yourself, "I'm here," you said quietly, voice rough from not speaking since you woke up.

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. You should feel repulsed.

His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. And then, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think much of it. It was you or him.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rafe, needing the space to breathe, to think, to figure out what came next.

Your gaze flickered to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, unable to face the consequences of your stupid actions, "Just needed some air," you muttered, “Sorry for not leaving a note.”

Rafe's expression shifted from relief to concern as he watched you, his brows furrowing.

"You okay?"

You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, "I'm fine," you replied, your voice lacking conviction even to your own ears. "Just felt a little nauseous.”

His hand reached out tentatively as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated, letting it fall back to his side. “I just woke up and you were gone, and I...I panicked."

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you. 

“We should go back.”

"Will you... will you be okay?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You nodded, trying to muster up a reassuring smile, but it felt hollow and insincere. "I'll be fine," you lied, the words tasted bitter on your tongue, “Just need some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s go back.”

As you stepped inside the room, he watched you carefully, as if he was afraid you would’ve disappeared again at any given moment. He tried to reach out and grab your arm, but you moved too quickly, and he was left grasping air.

You offered him a weak smile, ignoring the look on his face.

"I'm sorry for leaving like that," you said, your voice tinged with genuine regret. "I’m fine.”

You didn’t think he believed you. He was watching you so closely. He took in how disheveled you looked. The mess of your hair, and barely laced-up shoes so you could get out the door faster. He was smart enough to read your bullshit, but he only took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Is this about last night?”

Your body froze instantly. What were you supposed to tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth and make him hate himself even more? Keep your pain down to hold his?

“It was a mistake.”

You went straight to the chase.

He stalked closer to you, and you took a step back reflexively, “A mistake?” he echoed between labored breaths, “A mistake?”

“Yeah," you stammered, trying to articulate your thoughts, "It's not right. We, we're just lonely."

You despised yourself for even hinting at it, but the tumultuous month spent with him had been bewildering, to say the least. You questioned whether you were truly good for each other. You couldn't be.

"I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off. The vulnerability in his voice pierced your skin, a consequence of your actions. But you needed to put yourself first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe's face contorted, his features tightening into a mask of disbelief. And you couldn’t blame him for whatever he was about to unleash on you. You probably deserved it.

“So, what? You're just gonna walk away?" He tried to bark, but his voice quivered from grief, “Stop looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He scoffed, lips twisting into a sneer, as he started to pace around the room, his movements restless and agitated. “That’s funny.”

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in his voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, “Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?”

His words struck you like a physical blow, a slap to the face. You recoiled instinctively, even though you knew he didn't mean it.

"I don't know what I mean to you," you admitted quietly as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I just know that I can't keep doing this."

Rafe's laughter was bitter and mocking, "Can't keep doing this?" he repeated, his voice laced with derision. "And what, exactly, is 'this'? Fucking? You can’t even say it.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

"An asshole?" he spat, "Is that what you think of me?"

You held his gaze, refusing to back down despite the hurting coursing through your veins. "You're acting like one.”

“Maybank,” His voice was still harsh as he lowered his head to try and meet your eyes. He was close enough that you were able to smell him, "You don't know anything about me, remember? Maybe the fucking really did confuse you.”

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

His eyes shut tightly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s wrong! Rafe—don’t you see it? I can’t do this, not with you of all fucking people, okay?”

He looked down at the carpet, a look of shame falling over his features as he ran a hand over his face, “You knew who I was since the beginning.”

You felt so much frustration rising within you, "Yeah, and every time I look at you now, I see everything that's wrong with me."

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, "I wanted you."

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him as you had just hours ago, but you knew you couldn’t.

“We can’t.”

His eyes were slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he walked towards the door.

“Well, congrats Maybank. You won.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, the finality of it hitting you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, motionless, as the silence enveloped you. Why did it feel like this was going to crush you?

You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and the tears came in a torrent, for the second time that morning. Sobs wracked your body, each one more painful than the last, as the reality of your situation became clear as day. You had pushed him away, and hurt him, but what other choice did you have? 

The quiet without him was almost eerie. You weren't used to being alone anymore. You couldn't deny that you had felt something for Rafe, something more than just anger and resentment.

But it was twisted, born out of shared trauma and desperation, wasn’t it? It had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, you tried to gather yourself. You still needed to get home. In five days. How the fuck were you going to live in the same room with Rafe for five days after what went down?

You sat on the motel room floor for what felt like hours, the silence driving you up the walls. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you crawled into bed, your mind too restless to allow for more than fitful dozing.

It was around 4 a.m. when the door to the motel room creaked open, startling you awake. You sat up, your heart pounding, straining to see in the dark. The figure that stumbled through the door was unmistakable: Rafe. His movements were unsteady, his clothes disheveled, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit you even from across the room.

“Rafe?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes unfocused. He looked lost.

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look. You had done that to him.

You got out of bed, approaching him cautiously, “What are you doing?”

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot, “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

You sighed, “Rafe, you’re drunk. You need to sit down.”

He let you guide him to the bed, his body heavy and uncooperative. Once he was seated, you grabbed a bottle of water from the small table and handed it to him.

“Drink this,” you instructed.

He took a sip, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “For everything.”

It was the first time he ever apologized to you.

You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, but another part of you was still reeling from earlier.

“You need to sleep this off."

He nodded but didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed, “I can't."

If you allowed him to keep sputtering out his drunken thoughts you would’ve ended up crying your eyes out again, so instead you squeezed his hand, “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. You helped him lie down, covering him with the sheets. As you laid back down, you watched Rafe’s breathing even out, his face softening in sleep. 

That night? It never happened. It felt like everything was happening all over again.

Rafe didn’t spare you a glance from the moment he woke up, choosing to care for his hangover by himself. You and he moved around each other like ghosts, the motel room becoming a prison. You barely slept, the nightmares coming back, leaving you exhausted and on edge.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father, Rafe, or the hauntings of your past, blending into a tiring cycle of fear. You knew he’d been having nightmares as well, but you pretended to be asleep every time he woke up, chest heaving. He never asked for you help.

He seemed so caught in his torment. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands would flex into fists and then relax as if he was battling some inner demon. He avoided you, constantly, and when he did speak, his words were clipped and distant.

Your shared meals were silent, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. Even the TV stayed off.

On the fifth night, you lay awake in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Rafe's breathing from the other bed. It was uneven, indicating he was also awake. Maybe you should've kept quiet, but his druken monologue was still very much killing you inside.

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

Rafe's breathing hitched, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the darkness.

"I mean it," you continued, turning slightly to face his silhouette. "You're not your father."

He didn't respond immediately, but you sensed a subtle change in his posture. Finally, he sighed, "How can you be so sure?" he murmured.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Because I've seen you. I've seen the parts of you that fight against becoming him. The parts that want to be better. And that matters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure it’s enough.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

You wanted to reach out, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. 

“I’m still here,” you said softly, “I’m not leaving.”

“You already did.”

Ouch.

Before you could utter a single word, he turned his back to you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Sleep.”

“Rafe—”

“Goodnight.”

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. That didn't matter anymore to him.

The next morning, you didn’t bother much with packing, only shoving the pieces of clothing you’d collected in a backpack. It felt torturous, to be so close to Rafe yet so far away. He didn’t speak a word as he packed his things, his movements stiff and mechanical. You wanted to break the silence, but every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to stick in your throat.

The taxi drive to the port was just as unbearable. You stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past, your mind racing with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. 

Once you arrived, you and Rafe stepped out, the silence between you as impenetrable as ever. It was over. He took the lead, heading towards the ticket booth with his shoulders hunched, and you followed.

You were still scared shitless of those men. They were only helping you because at some point Rafe had helped them smuggle drugs into the States, and that did not leave you the least bit reassured over their intentions. 

Finding a spot on the deck, you both settled into a tense silence, the hum of the boat’s engine and the cries of seagulls filling the void between you. The beauty of the scene did little to ease the anxiety tightening in your chest.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his face still void of any emotion.

You watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out to him and the fear that doing so would only make things worse.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you cleared your throat.

“Rafe,” you began hesitantly, “I—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his expression weary. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat. “Not now.”

Not ever, that's what he meant.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Just stay low, stay quiet. My dad got eyes everywhere.”

From the corner of your eye you spotted one of the men. Tall, burly, with a scar running down his cheek. He simply nodded towards the cargo boat and for a minute you’re taken back to your first day stuck with the Cameron’s, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Rafe walked in front of you again, entering the ship, rounding his way through the halls behind the sketchy guy, only stopping when he knocked on a door, after a moment, it swung open to reveal a bald shot man, eyes way too big for his face, which flicked over you and Rafe, a predatory smile curling his lips.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’re late.”

“Had some complications,” Rafe replied curtly, his posture tense.

You didn't like it one bit.

“Complications, huh? Well, come on in”

You followed Rafe inside, heart racing. The interior of the room was pretty dark, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something you couldn’t quite identify. Nor did you want to. 

“Rafe,” the older man announced, his voice cold and commanding. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”

“Never,” Rafe replied, his tone clipped. “I brought the money.”

He handed over a thick envelope, and the man behind the desk took it, flipping through the bills with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s discuss the other part of our deal.”

Rafe stiffened. “I told you, I’m out. I’m not running anything for you anymore.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning dangerous. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to just walk away.”

You felt a chill run down your spine. This wasn't the plan. Right? The man behind the desk stood up, his gaze shifting to you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“No one,” Rafe said quickly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, I think she has everything to do with this.”

He took a step towards you, and instinctively, you backed away, Rafe moving to place himself between you and the older man, “Leave her out of this.”

“You see, your daddy dearest called in last night. Told me about a loose piece he had to get rid off…a pretty one. Guess this is her?”

"That's none of your business," Rafe growled, his voice filled with a warning, body still shielding yours.

The older man laughed, the sound grating against your nerves.

"Oh, but it is my business, Rafe. You see, your daddy and I, we go way back. And when he asks for a favor, I don't say no."

You knew this had to be a trap.

"Rafe, we need to go," you whispered urgently, tugging on his arm.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the man before him. "We're leaving."

The man smirked, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe. "You think you can just walk out of here? You're in deep, Cameron. And now, so is she."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not doing this.”

The older man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. 

"You have two choices, Rafe. You either do as I say, or she pays the price like Ward asked.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You couldn't let Rafe get pulled back into this world, but you couldn't think about what might happen to both of you if you stayed.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling at that point.

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. Oh hell no. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve.

“Run.”

Before you could protest, Rafe launched himself at the older man, tackling him to the ground. The suddenness of the movement caught everyone off guard, but you knew you had to act quickly.

Heart pounding, you turned and bolted out of the room, dropping your backpack in the process, your footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind you, you could hear the sounds of struggle—grunts, crashes, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that every second counted. Rafe had told you to run.

The ship's layout was confusing, with identical-looking hallways and doors leading to who-knew-where. You sprinted through the maze of metal and dim lights, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The distant sound of shouting and commotion indicated that the fight wasn't over. You turned a corner and collided with one of the burly men from earlier.

He grabbed your arm like you were some kind of animal, “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

You stomped on his foot and jabbed your elbow into his ribs, wrenching your arm free as he grunted in pain. Without wasting a second, you continued running, your legs burning.

You burst onto the deck, the cold, salty air hitting you like a slap. The early morning light was just beginning to brighten the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck. You looked around frantically, searching for any means of escape. Your eyes landed on a lifeboat secured to the side of the ship. Without hesitation, you made your way towards it, fumbling with the ropes that held it in place. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to free the boat. As you were about to lower it into the water, a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. It was the man with the scar, his face twisted in anger.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.

You tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a loud bang echoed across the deck. The man with the scar froze, his grip loosening. You took the opportunity to break free, scrambling away from him.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the deck, a gun in his hand and determination in his eyes. The man with the scar raised his hands slowly, backing away.

“You okay?” Rafe asked.

“I think so.”

“Come here.”

Without thinking, you ran to him, your heart pounding with relief. He was okay. You were okay.

His arms wrapped around your lower back tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching your face to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you.

It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. 

Until reality broke you again.

Rafe's body tensed suddenly. You heard a muffled sound, like a distant pop, but it took a moment for your mind to register what had happened. His grip on you loosened, and he staggered, his breath hitching in pain. No, no, no, no.

"Rafe?” You caught him as he fell to his knees, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the shot. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you watched a showdown between the so-called human traffickers and the fucking police. This had to be a fucking nightmare, no way, were you getting caught in a crossfire. 

Rafe clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining his white shirt. His face was scarily pale, and he struggled to stay upright.

"You need to...get out of here," he managed to say, his voice strained, “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you, you fuckin—Shit, Rafe. Fuck!” You looked around frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can you walk?" you asked, trying to keep the panic from your voice, you didn't want to scare him.

“Does it look like I can walk, pretty Maybank?”

A sob broke through you, “Don’t try to be fucking funny, you got shot!”

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

"Stop talking!" you repeated, your voice trembling with desperation.

You looked around again, trying to find a way out, a way to save him, anything. But the chaos around you was too much. The police and the traffickers were in a fierce shootout, bullets whizzing through the air, ricocheting off metal, and splintering wood. There was nowhere to run.

Rafe's hand tightened weakly around yours.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You have to...Go gome."

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. "I can't leave you here."

You knew you had to move, had to find help, but leaving him there felt like tearing your heart out. As you turned to peek around one final time, you heard a shout from behind you.

"Freeze!" a police officer yelled, his gun trained on you.

You stopped, your hands raised, your mind racing. "Please, help him," you begged, pointing to Rafe. "He's been shot."

The officer's eyes flicked to Rafe, then back to you. "We need to secure the area first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "He's dying."

The officer hesitated, then spoke into his radio. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately."

Another officer approached, his gun drawn, and you saw his gaze soften as he took in Rafe's condition. "We'll get him help," he assured you, "but we need to get you out of here safely."

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking. 

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a weak smile touching his lips, "Go."

Before you could tell him off, you felt hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back. "We need to get you to safety," one of the officers said firmly, trying to drag you away from Rafe.

"No! Let me go! I can't leave him!" you screamed, fighting against their hold.

"Ma'am, we need to get you out of the line of fire," the officer insisted, his grip tightening as he pulled you to your feet.

Through your tears, you saw more officers surrounding Rafe, their voices urgent as they called for medical assistance. You watched helplessly as they began to administer first aid, their movements efficient and hurried.

As the officers dragged you away against your will, your eyes never left Rafe. "Please, don't let him die," you sobbed, your voice breaking with despair.

"We're doing everything we can," one of the officers reassured you, guiding you towards the edge of the deck where a police boat was waiting.

You stumbled, your legs weak with fear and exhaustion, but the officers held you steady. As you were helped onto the police boat, you turned back one last time, your heart breaking at the sight of Rafe lying on the deck, surrounded by officers and paramedics. You clutched the railing, your knuckles white, as the boat pulled away from the ship, the distance between you and Rafe growing with each passing second.

The journey back to shore was nothing but a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and the distant sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. The police officers tried to reassure you, but you wouldn't rest until you saw him again. Alive.

When the boat finally docked, paramedics rushed forward, checking you for injuries, while police officers asked you questions about what had happened. You answered them mechanically, your mind still focused on Rafe, praying that he would survive. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of questions, medical checks, and statements. You told them everything. Finally, you were allowed to sit down and a police officer approached you.

"Rafe Cameron is being taken to the hospital," he said gently. "He's in critical condition, but the paramedics are doing everything they can."

You nodded numbly, "Can I see him?"

“’No visitors will be allowed, kid. We checked your backgrounds. If he survives, he’ll be taken into custody, his father is Ward Cameron, the feds are going to need him.”

You nearly threw up at how easily he said, “if he survives”. There couldn’t be no fucking ifs, he wasn’t dying. Not like this. Not after everything. 

Your knees buckled, and you had to sit down again. The officer helped you to a bench, his face sympathetic, “I understand this is hard, but we need to follow protocol. He’s a key witness and suspect in multiple ongoing investigations.”

You nodded. The world felt distant, and surreal. “Can I at least know which hospital?”

The officer hesitated for a moment, then relented. “St. Michael’s. But you won’t be allowed to call until we clear things with the authorities.”

“Call? I want to visit.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to you, “Kid. I’m really sorry, but you won’t be here. You’re a kidnapping victim and there’s a direct order to take you back home, you’ve been reported missing for over a month now.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the officer's words.

Missing? For over a month? It felt like a lifetime and no time at all had passed since you'd been caught up in this nightmare.

"I can't leave him. Not like this."

The officer's expression softened. "I understand, but this is out of my hands. We need to get you back to your family. They'll be worried sick."

What family?

You wanted to shout in his face. JJ was still missing for all you knew and Luke hadn't stepped foot home in months. You felt so helpless.

“I can't just leave him."

"We're going to get you home safely. You'll be able to follow up on Rafe's condition, but right now, you need to come with us."

The officer stood up, motioning for you to follow. Reluctantly, you got to your feet, without another option, every step feeling like a betrayal to Rafe.

As you were led out of the station and into a waiting car, you could only imagine him lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

[blockedbykei]

Emergency request!!

can u please do tuskki with his extraverted and bubbly gf having a tough time then becoming noticeably quite and starts to push people away? Like its hard for her to open up and talk about it yk

Btw I absolutely loveeeee ur writing!! have a great daay/night ^^

thank u for this request i needed to refresh my mind 🙏

— timeskip!tsukishima

at first he thought that maybe he wasn't being as attentive as he used to be.

the walk to campus was quiet. it lacked your usual quips and awes at the random things you both saw on the sidewalks and on the stores. you only walked beside him, hand in hand, looking down at the ridges of the ground.

he hadn't noticed because he was too busy refreshing his mind for his upcoming quiz.

tsukishima starts to notice when you'd both eaten lunch at a store nearby and you weren't as happy as you were when you ate spam musubi. you chewed quietly, answered his questions with small hums. it concerned him a little, but he was the person to enjoy the silence when it was given to him.

then it worried him when you went home before he did, and he hadn't gotten a single kiss from you the second he steps inside. you acknowledge his "i'm home" with a "hello" from your shared bedroom.

so now there he is, leaning against the doorframe of the room, hands crossed, socked feet placed on the cold wooden floor. you lay on the bed and face the wall, hunched back facing him.

tsukishima frowns.

"oi," he calls, beginning his journey towards you.

you feel the bed dip at his weight being planted on the mattress, his hand coming up to shake you lightly on your shoulder. you groan, curling further towards the wall.

"(y/n)," he says, stern but also soft. his usual tone. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," your nose was stuffy, a sniffle making his eyebrows raise. "i'm just sleepy."

"at four pm?" tsukishima queries in disbelief. at this time, you were usually bubbly— hyper, planning the places you were going to spend the remaining day in, or encouraging him to join you fill your time. and as much as he playfully detests the thought of doing something rather than laying down, now he kind of wants to do the same thing. "babe, don't lie to me."

you say nothing.

he sighs, kicking his feet off the ground and laying down beside you, scooting closer to pull you into his chest when his arms wiggle beneath your body and the other scooching underneath your arm to hug you. tsukishima cranes his neck and nuzzles his nose at the back of your neck, inhaling.

"baby," he straightens his neck, placing his chin on top of your head, his hand under your arm rubbing your belly. "you don't have to lie to me."

your breath unevens, he feels it at the way your stomach rises.

"face me?"

his plea was enough to make you turn around in his grasp and face him, tired eyes blinking the dread that hangs on your eyelashes.

an uncanny sight— the usual joy in the glimmer of your eyes dullefied by the melancholic aura you release. at this, tsukishima's tone of nuisance has decided to drop and replace it with a dulcet voice that he had only reserved for you.

"what's wrong, hm?" his hand pushes your hair behind your ear, cupping your face gently.

"'m tired."

"i know that. you told me that earlier."

"in general, kei," you whine softly. "the projects keep stacking up over one another and i've got groups to lead and i've got proposals to meet and presentations to do and–"

you stop, the dam beginning to break at your waterline. tsukishima plants his lips in the middle of your eyebrows.

"go on, it's okay."

you sigh deeply, nuzzling your face on his neck. "and it pressures me so much that i don't know what to do."

tsukishima pulls you closer. you hear his heartbeat, soft– steady and calm, often fast at certain times, but it was always so calm around you. his scent wraps you in comfort, your hands wandering beneath his shirt to seek warmth in his skin.

"it's okay to not know what to do," he says softly. "you don't have to pressure yourself to know what to do immediately. take your time, don't push yourself to the extent of breaking."

"but you know what to do immediately."

"i don't," he traces figures at your back, shapes, you think. "i observe before i think. whether i do it within seconds or in minutes. it depends on the situation, really. but you've got to go easy on yourself,"

tsukishima pulls your face away from his chest. he leans closer, the tip of his nose rubbing yours, his eyes resting on yours.

"and i'm here. you don't have to do this alone," he kisses your nose. "don't be an idiot and ask me for help."

you laugh lightly, reaching up to place your lips on his.

they'd always been soft and sweet, a bright contrast to his usual demeanor. tsukishima hums and pulls you closer, his mouth opening the slightest to kiss you deeper and breathe your air. it was comfort, safe, home.

and he kisses you like he means it, in a way that he wants to protect you. in a way that shows you that he's here and he's not leaving you. his mouth moves against yours languidly, the soft clicks of your dampened lips and your eyelashes tickling his cheeks.

tsukishima breaks away only to leave another quick peck on your lips. he whispers, "i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere."

you believe him wholeheartedly.

[weird-addiction]

If you're still writing for hotd, could you do a aemond x twin brother reader (platonic ofc). When aemond loses his eye, his brother takes his own eye on the opposite side as a form of solidarity. They have a close relationship and reader claims cannibal as aemond claims vhagar. I know it's a lot but I thought it was a good idea. Hope you have a great day

~snake anon 🐍

One in the Same

Pairing: Platonic!Aemond Targaryen x Male!Twin!Targaryen!Reader

Genre: Neutral

Warnings: Gore, taking out an eye, typical violence, threatening someone

Being the twin to a prince was never meant to be easy, well, others at the bottom would say different. That is because they have never been in his position before. Y/n was the fourth child of Alicent and Viserys, the younger twin to Aemond Targaryen. 

They said that the gods flip a coin to determine a Targaryen’s fate when they are born, one side was greatness, the other was madness. If this was indeed true, Y/n’s side of the coin would be sadness. There was not a day from the day he was born that he did felt like a void was inside of his heart, and the only way to fill it was to be close to his twin at all times. 

Since childhood, Y/n clung to Aemond’s side no matter what they were doing. Training, eating, in the library reading, the one thing they did not do was sleep in the same bed. Alicent tried everything to keep Y/n a part, as she was worried that in the future that their closeness would prevent them from finding wives, however Y/n still refused to let his brother go. 

Aemond was dragonless, so was Y/n, they were the only ones without dragons and boy were they bitter for it. 

See, Y/n was what you called the ‘the silent but deadly’ type of person. He told everything, every feeling, every emotion to his twin and no one else. And for this, he had no idea how to express himself to others freely. 

So, he did it through violent means. 

“Behold! The Pink Dread!” Aegon, Jace and Luke all said in a mocking way as the pig stood before them. 

Aemond kept his emotions inside, he would not show them that this got to him. His twin however, did not have the same reaction. 

Y/n did not hesitate as he grabbed Aegon by the collar, his fist raised as he was about to punch him. Aegon was surprised to say the least, as he flinched back from his brother’s raised hand. Jace and Luke were also shocked to see this, as Aegon was the eldest among them so no one went against him. Seeing Aegon’s own younger brother do that to him was not something they expected. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t make you unable to see Sunfyre for a week, brother.” Y/n spat, his hand did not loosen its grip. 

“I-I’ll tell mother!” Aegon said out as a last resort. 

“Mother? Mother would thank me for knocking some sense into you.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed, the dragon burned within him brightly. 

Aegon managed to shake himself free, himself and their nephews left quickly so as to not anger him anymore. Y/n turned back to Aemond, wanting to comfort him. But, Aemond was already down the pit to see for dragons. Y/n notified a guard and Aemond was taken out before he became ashes. 

“What are you doing?! Are you trying to get killed?” Y/n looked him over for injuries. 

“I’m fine.” Aemond replied quickly, hiding his disdain for dragging him out. 

They were escorted back to their mother who was watching over Helaena with her bugs. 

“Do I have to have you both confined to your chambers-”

“They gave him a pig!” Y/n yelled, cutting Alicent off. 

Her attention went to the younger, then back to the elder to confirm if this was true. Aemond’s face said everything. 

“You both will have a dragon. One day. I promise.” Alicent brought both of her sons into a hug before leaving to talk to her husband and her eldest son for pulling such a trick on his own brothers. 

The dragon did not come to them, even them trying to claim other older dragons did not work. Y/n suggested they go to Dragonstone to take a shot with the dragons there, Alicent allowed after much persuasion. 

Once they arrived on Dragonstone, they went directly to where the dragons were kept. The dragon keepers standing there waiting for them. 

By the end of the day, Y/n had managed to fly around with a dragon so large that the shadow covered all of Dragonstone. Even the keepers were surprised, and when he landed, everyone was stunned. 

Y/n Targaryen had claimed the legendary beast that is Cannibal. 

Y/n climbed down from the dragon’s back effortlessly as he pats its side, running to hug his twin and ask the older about his own dragon. Aemond was impressed by his abilities, but rather sad as he himself was unsuccessful as claiming a dragon. 

“It’s ok! You’ll have one! You will have a dragon with wars and conquests under its belt! I promise Aemond!” Y/n exclaimed as he hugged his brother tight. 

Well, that would come true only a year later as came the death of Laena Velayron. By the end of the funeral, Aemond had run off by himself as he heard the sad roar of a dragon in the distance. 

On the other hand, Y/n was freaking out as he did not see his twin anywhere near him. He wanted to go find him but the guard said he needed to go to bed, but how could he sleep without knowing that Aemond was somewhere else? How could he sleep without knowing if Aemond was safe?

Well, he did not have to wait for long, the guards soon came and escorted him down telling him something had happened to his brother. This made Y/n practically run down the stairs to such a gorey sight before him, his twin flame, his brother who he loved so much was sitting in a chair getting stitches across his eye. Running to Aemond’s side, leeching to the elder’s side as he looked him over for other possible injuries. 

“How did this- what happened?” He quietly asked. Aemond responded with one eye movement, gaze shifting over to their nephews. 

“Which one?” Y/n’s tone now held venom, wanting vengeance and revenge to the one that did this to his twin. 

“The one that I broke the nose of.” His response made Y/n realize, of course, it was not hard to see who he was talking about after all. 

“Lucerys. Of course. Those..bastards.” Y/n truly hated saying that word, he wanted to be close to his nephews, but what they just pulled was not going to be forgotten and forgiven so easily. 

Alicent came over to the twins, giving them concerning glances. Pushing them behind her as she watched Rhaenyra come into the room. The twins held each other’s hands as they waited for what would happen to them. 

“My son has lost an eye!” Alicent exclaimed, gesturing to Aemond who sat in the chair. 

“It was my sons who were attacked, and forced to defend themselves.” Rhaenyra retorted back. “The legitimacy of my son’s birth were put loudly to question.” 

Y/n and Aemond both looked at each other and smirked, they couldn’t help it, everyone who had eyes could see it of course. 

“What did you actually do?” Y/n asked under his breath. 

“Claimed Vhagar. They say I stole her.” Aemond leaned into his forehead against Y/n’s.

“That’s stupid. You can’t steal a dragon, the dragon chooses its rider. Otherwise, I would not be alive talking. Cannibal would have eaten me.” Both of them then tuned out the rest of the conversation. Well, until their mother decided to grab the dagger sitting at their father’s belt and attack their half-sister with it. 

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?! It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!” Alicent yelled as her wrist was caught in Rhaenyra’s grip. 

“Exhausting wasn’t it? Hiding under a cloak of your own righteousness. Now they see you as you are..” Rhaenyra said back, struggling with holding the queen back. 

Alicent yelled as she forced her hand with the dagger down, the sound of fabric slicing and dagger went through the room. Rhaenyra staggered backwards, Corlys was behind her and managed to hold her before she was going to fall more. 

Aemond stood up with the help of Y/n, walking over to their mother slowly. 

Seeing that Alicent had cut Rhaenyra, Y/n wanted this to end. Grabbing the dagger from the floor before anyone could notice, and what he did next made everyone gasp in shock.

Sliding the dagger across his right eye, with force, the same thing that Luke did to his brother. The blade dropped to the ground again, this time, with way more blood than the last. Clutching his eye in pain, Y/n turned to look at both parties, blood dripping from his socket.

“Now, we are all even. I took my eye, there is no need for Luke’s.” Y/n spoke sternly.

Alicent looked in horror as another son of hers had lost an eye, now it was two eyes instead of one; and it was all from two of her own children and none from Rhaenyra. 

“Your mistake has caused my other son to take his own eye. Is this what you wanted? More of my children mutilating themselves for your sake?!” Alicent yelled, and only silence followed. 

Y/n was sent to the maester immediately as the eye also needed to be taken out. Unlike his twin however, he screamed through the entire process and held onto Aemond’s hand for dear life. Soon, the same stitches covered the scar over his eye, the opposite of Aemond’s. 

For the years to come, the people of Westeros knew the twins as the single-eyed princes. However, no one tried to get close to them. Or rather, it was the twins themselves who refused. They stayed true to each other rather than to marry some stranger they did not know. 

Aemond had a sapphire in place of his missing eye, while Y/n had a ruby in place of his. 

Two spirits stone cold but the sparks of two stones together burned brightly in between them. 

Two of the biggest dragons in the world by their side. 

No one will ever cross them ever again. 

[silken-moonlight]

The Elegance Series Part 9: Older Alpha x Human Waitress

A/N: Hi there! Today hasn't been a great day for me, as I wrote before. I was at the doctor's office today and am now on heart meds. I have to see how everything will go from here. Though I still want to post regularly. Love you all and everyone who wished me well. Enjoy the new chapter! 💗💗💗

Your Pov

You went home feeling giddy and happy. Though it quickly faded when you stepped into your home. A sense of dread filled you, afraid that something might have happened while you were gone. Gladly, today this wasn't the case. Your parents had gone to bed, and Pumpkin and Spice slept peacefully in the living room. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you silently slid up the stairs to the second story. After a hot shower, which helped you sober up, you went to bed. For a moment, you scrolled on your phone, checking your social media and emails. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

However, you suddenly remembered that Desmond didn't have your number...but you had his. A warm feeling crept into your chest when you thought about the older man. He had an aura of security and calm...He was magnetic, something always pulled you back to him. You took out the card he gave you so many days ago and typed it into your phone. Quickly saving it under: Desmond (Alpha).

Before you could overthink it, you wrote him a quick text:

Y/N:Hi Desmond, it's Y/N. I wanted to save your number and give you a call at the same time.

Desmond: That is wonderful; thank you so much for texting me. It made my sweet night even sweeter.

You blushed behind you phone and chuckled.

Y/N: Thank you so much. I am looking forward to our date tomorrow.

Desmond: Me too. I would like to invite you for lunch together.

Y/N: I adore that idea! When do you want to meet up?

Desmond: As soon as you could

Desmond: I mean as soon as you are available

Y/N: How about 1 pm?

Desmond: Perfect, I'll pick you up at your house.

Y/N: Until then!

Desmond: Until then, darling.

Your heart beat faster when you put your phone away, anticipating the date you would have. Now that you knew Desmond was always visiting "Sailor Boy," you were so giddy and excited. You really liked him. You wanted this to be something nice...Though you knew how it would end. At first, the people are always so understanding of your situation. They have no problem at first with your always having to be ready to leave a date or that you can't go on vacation and shut off your phone. They understand that partying is off the table for you and that you don't want to go to clubs.

You were happy with your life; you were okay with taking care of your parents. Sadly, others were not, telling you that one day you would regret not spending your youth wildly. It was frustrating trying to tell people that you didn't miss anything. Your mind told you that things with Desmond wouldn't be different. As soon as he knew he had to share you, he would lose interest. Also, you were overly aware of how he had his own responsibilities. He lived in an entirely different world than you, one where you wouldn't fit. You would enjoy his attention for the time that he was here.

- The next Day -

You spend the entire morning getting ready, bathing, and doing so much self-care. Your last date had been ages ago, and you were so happy to have the opportunity to make yourself look pretty.

Your parents were happy for you too, encouraging you. They even took the dogs out for a walk so that you had the house to yourself for a little while.

Now, you were standing in front of the mirror, looking at yourself. The dress you chose was elegant: a blue that complimented your skin, with white embroidery of stars at the hem of the skirt. The sleeves were bell sleeves, and the neckline was a beautiful V. You chose those white pumps that you almost never wore and applied soft makeup. Perfume and deodorant finished the look.

You were ready, looking elegant yet casual. Your heart was beating so fast, excitement surging through your entire body.

Desmond: Good Morning Beautiful, I am at you parents house and will wait for you

You looked at the clock. 12:45 a.m. He was early. A smile tugged at your lips; somebody was clearly eager. It flattered you.

Quickly, you said goodbye to your parents and dogs as you walked out of the front door.

A large, black SUV stood there, Desmond leaning casually against it. When he spotted you, a smile adorned his face. The alpha looked sinfully handsome. His beard was freshly trimmed, his hair loose, and he wore dress pants and a dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. "You look stunning, darling," Desmond greeted you, looking you up and down.

"All that for me?" He asked and smiled a little more. Feeling bold, you stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek. "All for you." You felt proud when you saw the slight flush on his cheeks. The Alpha smelled amazing; his cologne smelled rich and deep—wood, leather, and tobacco.

"Shall we?" His voice was smooth, and you nodded. He opened the door for you, and you slipped into the passenger's seat. "Thank you," you said and smiled at him. He closed the door and walked around to the other side.

"No need to thank me. Did you sleep well?" He asked and began to drive. "I did, how about you? Your way home was definitely longer than mine." He smiled. "Oh, I slept quite well, knowing that I would see you again today." You chuckled. "Such a charmer, though I must admit I was excited to see you again." His smile widened. "I love hearing that. Also, I thought I might take you to the orangery that they made into that exclusive restaurant. It's beautiful there—if you believe their website." You nodded. You had heard of that before. "Oh, I always wanted to go there," you said honestly. "I've actually been to the manor it belongs to a couple of times. Some of my acquaintances got married there." Desmond listened to you. "The local pack thought of buying the land and manor when it had some money problems. Though since they have the restaurant, those have vanished, and it runs really well." You nodded. You had heard something similar—minus the mention of the local pack.

Suddenly, Desmond's phone rang and connected to the car. Desmond sighed, annoyed. "I have to take that call. It's my beta, Isaac."

"I don't mind," you said with a smile.

Desmond pressed a Button and said:"Behave Isaac, I have a Lady with me." The alpha greeted the beta. There was an immediate laugh on the other end:"Did you finally have the balls to ask the cute waitress out?" You blushed extremly and looked over to Desmond who looked like he'd die of embaressment. "Isaac I swear..." There was just laughing on the other and:"Yeah Yeah. Also Hi to the waitress, I don't know your name yet. I'm Isaac, his beta." You looked at Desmond who nodded, so you answered:"Hello Isaac, I'm Y/N. Desmond has told me about you before." You could hear the beta chuckling:"Awwww, thats really sweet of you Des. Telling you mate about me."

"Isaac!" Desmond thundered. "Is there any other reason you called me?" he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

You just wondered what Isaac meant by 'mate'. You had never heard that Word in this context before.

Taglist: @the-witches-creatures @blushycadaver @strawberrypoundtown @blackbirdwitch22 @my-anime-garden

Divider Credit: @thecutestgrotto

[pupmilo-nl]

It was already dark when you turned around the corner of Oak Streat. Normally you'd be miles away, relaxing on uour couch with a nice hot cup of tea before going to bed. You'd never be in the city at this time. And you definitely wouldn't be walking around this neighborhood ... But today you are. It's really unfortunate that the car had to break down, especially after such a long and dreadful day. So when you got a message on grindr asking to hook up and maybe even stay the night you happily said yes.

You finally reached his front door and stopped for a while. Are you sure you're gonna do this? Just crash at a random dudes place? You really needed that place to sleep, and how bad could it be right? His profile had just some photos of his sneaker collection, some sock pics and a picture of his feet. The small parts of him you saw looked promising so it wouldn't be that bad right? The whole sneaker thing was a bit strange but hey, whatever floats your boat.

When you finally got all your thoughts together you rang the bell. It didn't take long for the door to open. A hot guy with the cutest smile ever was standing there, smiling at you and welcoming you in. "Hey! Glad you could find it! And euhh, sorry for still wearing my soccer clothes, didn't had time to shower yet". You definitely knew he was right about the whole no-shower-yet thing ... He was still dripping of sweat and you could have sworn you felt your nose hairs burn. Normally you'd have gagged and ran, but something was different this time. Yeah he reeked, but he radiated a calmness. "Ow that's fine, I'll manage" you responded.

He let you in and you followed him upstairs. "Yeah, sorry for the mess here. I share this place with a couple of other guys and they know how to make a mess... My room should be a bit tidier". Hes was definitely right. His room was relatively big and had not much in it. Just a desk, a closet, a plant and his bed. There was one thing which caught your eye though, his big sneaker collection, stacked up high right above his bed.

"You like them? It took a long time to get that many. I'm very picky you know" He was so right, there were so many! You noticed that seeing them was not the only thing you did... You definitely could smell them too. As he closes the door behind you the smell of humid sweaty sneaksers fills the room. It hits you so hard your eye's start to tear up a little bit.

"yeah sorry for that smell.... They do stink a bit dont they hehe. I like it tho, it remembers me of their former self, euhh previous owners". You were just a tiny bit too occupied by the smell and trying to listen to him that you didn't notice that slip up. "You didn't think I bought them all don't you? That would cost a fortune... No, they were somebody else! Euh somebody else's!"

Somebody else!?!?! What the fck was he talking about? Oh help of course you got the weirdo... Oh well, it's just for a night right? And he's hot as hell! So at least I'll have some fun right? "Hmm you heard that didn't you ... Well, no point of holding back I guess. You see, they did were someone else! I just love wearing hot guys! Hot and cute guys like you! Just like this one!!"

He undid his sneaker and hold it up proudly. You felt the warmth coming from his sneaker and you start to smell the humid air as it slowly fills up the room. You wanted to run. This has been enough... You'll sleep at the bus station or whatever. But instead of moving away your body didn't respond. He slowly moves his sneaker closer to you. As more and more damp air enters your lungs you feel your pants tenting a bit. What!?!? You liked this?!?

"you'll be such a great pair! i just know you will boy! And secretly you know that too! Look at your crotch boy, that tent and wet spot don't lie". He pushed his sneaker to your face and you feel your mind going silent. You know you should stop breathing in this deeply but you just can't help it, it smells so strong, it stinks so bad. It's so good..... You sniff deeper and deeper, sealing your fate

TF captions made by a friend ☺️

[talktonytome]

light me up

ft. Tommy smoking + leather jacket & horny Buck- based on this post; also on ao3

Tommy takes a long drag of the cigarette, inhaling deep, deep, deep, until his lungs burn a little, but it does the trick. His shoulders slump where he leans against the wall, as tension leaves his body on the exhale. He watches the smoke unfurl in front of him, floating into the night. It’s been years since he last smoked, but the stress of today’s events put him on edge.

He shouldn’t be surprised by the amount of mishaps the 118 experiences, especially Evan, and he knows what their job entails, but today truly scared him. Evan hadn’t even been hurt that badly, some rope burn and bruises, that in the grand scheme of things weren’t particularly bad, but the fear he’d felt watching Evan plummet, before the harness caught made him feel a panic and fear he’d never felt before.

He takes another drag and exhales again, tucking his nose into the collar of the jacket, and lets the smell of worn leather and smoke fill his nostrils. It’s a bad habit, he knows, which is why he rarely indulges. His mind supplies memories of far-off sleepless nights in the middle of war, where the smoke from cigarettes, hanging limp from shaking hands, was indistinguishable from the heavier, dreadful smoke in the air.

When he shudders, he knows it’s not just from the chill of the night, but he pulls his leather jacket a bit tighter around him, one hand in his pocket. He hears more than sees the back door open, steps coming closer and soon enough, Evan comes into view.

Busted.

“Hey, I couldn’t find you,” Evan says, voice a little shaky, his favorite blanket draped over his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” Tommy winced. He’s well acquainted with Evan’s abandonment issues, but in his defense, he’d left his boyfriend sleeping soundly in their bed. He’d taken special care to make sure Evan was okay after the incident, holding him in his arms until the exhaustion from the day dragged him under. He takes another drag of his cigarette; He wasn’t going to pretend or try to hide what he was doing. He prides Evan’s and his own efforts at always being honest with each other.

“I know, I know, these are terrible, but I swear this rarely happens,” he explains, gesturing with the cigarette. There’s still maybe half of it left. “I really want to hold you, but I probably don’t smell great right now so let me just shower and we can-”

Tommy stops. Evan hasn’t said a word, still frozen in place in front of him. If Tommy didn’t know any better… The expression on his face is- well, frankly, screams confused and horny which wasn’t at all unusual for Evan, to Tommy’s general delight.

“Evan?” Tommy steps closer. “Let me put this out,” he bends down to stomp out the cigarette. It almost pains him to waste half, but Evan is more important.

“Wait.” Evan says, voice low, finally broken out of his trance. Tommy stills, then stands back up, bud still glowing ember and dangling between his fingers.

“O- kay,” he says slowly, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

Evan takes purposeful steps, until he’s in Tommy’s space and Tommy knows the determined set of his brow, the glint in his eyes. “Ok, let me have it,” Tommy sighs. “Yes, these are bad for my health, they can cause lung and oral cancer, what else?”

“They are and they can,” Buck agrees. “And I have about a dozen questions, but- I’ve got something more pressing on my mind right now, though,” he smirks.

Before Tommy knows what’s happening, Evan drops to his knees before him and the concrete slab of the sidewalk can’t feel great, but Evan doesn’t seem worried.

“Uh, what’s happening right now?”

Evan looks up at him and then his eyes flick to the still-lit cigarette in his hand. “Make that last baby,” he nods toward the cigarette. “You stop, I stop” he promises, eyes dark and hungry.

Tommy’s brain momentarily freezes. “Stop?”

“I was gonna ask to try that, but I think I’d rather have something else in my mouth right now.”

Evan reaches for his fly, deft fingers unfastening the button on his jeans and unzipping him, then slowly pulls him out, until he feels the cool breeze where he’s now painfully hard. He guides Tommy's free hand to grip his curls.

Oh. Tommy groans, throwing his head back, and takes a drag from the cigarette, as Evan takes him into his mouth.

Maybe they both needed something a little life-affirming tonight.

[goblinontour]

A Mistake

he’s gonna fuck it up again

part 9 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), fluff (a bit), angst, feelings, crying, smut, oral (m/f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv, footjob

word count: 14.8k

First day back. You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back to ignoring him basically all day. You didn’t know if you could keep your hands off him. You dreaded having to force yourself to not go up to him each time you’d pass by each other in the hallways. Or to just stop yourself from searching for him subconsciously.

Great thing you at least had a few more hours to prepare yourself. He had to leave before you, and you only had one class later in the evening. So no ride together.

“I don’t want to go.” he said, putting on his suit jacket and coming back to you, where you were still laying in bed. Still naked from last night. Only the comforter to cover yourself. 

It was colder now. The summer heat was fortunately, but unfortunately at the same time, over.

“I don’t want you to go either.” you said, extending your arm to catch his fingers between yours.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll miss you.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The weight of his absence already felt heavy, a dull ache settling in your chest, even if it would just be for a few hours. 

“You’ll call me during lunch?” you asked, trying to keep the neediness out of your voice but failing miserably.

“Of course.” he replied, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’ll think about you all day.” 

For a moment, he just stared at you, his gaze intense and filled with longing already. The air between you crackled. He couldn’t stop himself any longer. He pulled you close and kissed you, kissed you like it was the first and last time he’d get to do it. 

You would never get tired of his kisses and the way you could feel everything pouring out and seeping into you. He kissed you hard and he didn’t want to stop kissing you. Not now, not ever.

He started trailing the kisses down your neck, and lower, making you drop the material you were holding to cover yourself. Not that you needed it anymore. He got you hotter than any blanket could ever. There was no point to a competition.

“You’re gonna be late.” you murmured, trying to play the reasonable one in this situation. But deep down you knew you didn’t want him to stop.

“I haven’t had breakfast yet.” he whispered against the skin of your breasts as he was kissing his way down your body, his hands following the lead of his lips.

“Oh…right.” you said, stopped by a gasp escaping your lips as his hands ran down your legs, making goosebumps appear in their wake.

“You’re not gonna let me faint during a lecture just cause I didn’t have my breakfast, right?” he asked, lowering himself on the floor by the side of the bed, pulling your feet together to cradle them in his hands.

“Yeah…Can’t let my man get so neglected.” you said, looking down at him as he left a chaste kiss on one of your ankles before spreading your legs apart, positioning them over his shoulders and pulling you down on the bed until your hips were right at the edge. 

The anticipation buzzed through you like an electric current, every nerve ending alive with the never ending desire for him as he moved closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Good. Because I’m starving.” He looked up at you, his eyes dark with intent, and you felt another shiver of excitement. 

His hands slid up the back of your thighs, steadying you as his lips began their journey, leaving a trail of fire on your inner thighs. The room seemed to close in around you as you became lost in the sensation of his touch.

“I’ll make it quick.” he murmured, but the smirk on his lips told you he had no intention of rushing. 

He left wet kisses, little bites, tiny scratches from his facial hair growing in since he forgot to shave last night. Or better said, since you got him too busy to have any energy left to shave. 

And then he touched you, right there, right where you were waiting for him to.

He licked at you so slowly, his tongue incredibly soft against your cunt as he swirled it around your folds. It was so wet against you, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

After that short moment when he just tasted you for the sake of wanting to feel your sweetness on his tongue, he roughly pulled your hips flush to his face, his nose pushing into your clit as his tongue found its way into your hole. It was no longer soft. Or delicate. Or careful. He wanted to devour you and see you crumble.

You tightened your legs around his head, trapping him in your hold even though you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

You didn’t speak, too busy trying to breathe as he worked on you. He didn’t speak, not wanting to pull apart from your pussy for one second. He could feel you getting wetter, how everything flowed right into his mouth. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he noticed you were almost there, but needed just that one more push, he slipped two fingers inside you. They slipped in so easily from the way he opened you up so well with his tongue. You were so wet he had no trouble sliding them all the way deep inside you and curling them to hit that spot as his tongue flicked over your clit over, and over, and over. 

You gasped as the pleasure built up, each flick of his tongue sending shivers down your spine. His fingers moved expertly inside you, curling just right to hit that sweet spot that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter.

He didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to push you closer to the edge. Your moans filled the room, growing louder as you felt your orgasm approaching. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensation.

Time lost all meaning as he worshipped your body, each touch, each kiss a testament to his desire. You could feel the tension building inside you, a coil of heat and need that threatened to snap at any moment. 

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he increased the pace, his fingers moving faster, his tongue flicking over your clit with a relentless rhythm as he pushed you over the edge, sending you spiralling into a blissful oblivion.

He didn’t stop, prolonging your pleasure, milking every last drop from you until you were a shaking, panting mess beneath him. Only then did he slow down, his movements returning to a more gentle state as he helped you come down from your high.

You lay there, utterly spent, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He held you in place as you calmed down, his touch gentle and reassuring as he caressed your legs and stopped them from shaking. 

He climbed back up the bed, gathering you into his arms, holding you close. 

“Now that’s what I call breakfast.” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction.

You laughed softly, nestling into his embrace. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I do.” you admitted, your heart swelling with all the love it held for him. “I really do.”

He kissed you once more before getting up. Soft, lingering just that little bit longer than it should’ve to make sure you tasted yourself on his lips. “I’ll see you tonight.” he said, reluctantly pulling away.

“Can’t wait.” you replied, watching as he adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then, he wiped his chin and mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning off the remnants of you on his face. His eyes met yours, a satisfied glint in them as he finished straightening his tie. The casual intimacy of the moment sent another wave of warmth through you.

As he turned to gather his things, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his trousers. Not too obvious, but noticeable if you really looked. You bit your lip, a smile creeping across your face. “Looks like someone’s still excited.” you teased, nodding toward his crotch.

He glanced down, chuckling. “Wanna help me out then?” he joked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You laughed, the sound light and teasing. “You wish. You’re already running late now, remember?”

He sighed dramatically, giving you a mock-pout. “I can deal with it, I’ll save it for tonight.” he smirked. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Trust me, I’m counting on it.” 

You pulled the comforter tighter around yourself again, “Go!” you urged, even though it was the last thing you wanted. “Before I convince you to stay.”

“You make it very hard to leave, you know that?” he chuckled. 

“Good, because I don’t want it to ever get easy.”

With one last quick kiss, he left, the door clicking softly behind him. You lay back against the pillows, the silence of the room amplifying your thoughts. The day started stretching ahead, each minute, each second a reminder of how much you missed him. It wasn’t normal. To miss him this much after not even an hour apart, but it was more so the thought of having to hide yourselves again. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. When you closed your eyes, you could still feel his presence, a ghost of warmth against your skin.

You took a deep breath, rolling over to his side of the bed. His scent still lingered on the sheets. The minutes ticked by. Eventually, you forced yourself to get up, wrapping the comforter around you as you padded to the kitchen. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the countertops. You busied yourself with making coffee, trying to shake off the melancholy that threatened to settle over you.

You heard the soft padding of paws on the floor. Sock came to keep you company. He was getting so big. You smiled as he approached, his tail held high in greeting.

“Hey, there.” you murmured, bending down to scoop him up. He purred loudly, his body warm and comforting against your chest. You settled into a chair with him in your lap. He kneaded your thighs with his paws, his purring vibrating through you. 

As the coffee machine beeped to signal your cup had finished brewing, you glanced at your phone, the screen lighting up with a new message from him.

“Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you.”

Quickly after that, another text came through, a little brown heart. It was the only one he ever used, because he said it reminded him of Sock’s fur. You smiled like an idiot at your phone as you finally rose to fetch your coffee. 

After finishing your only lecture of the day, you wandered the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. You hadn’t seen him at all, even though you knew he should still be around. You wondered if he was avoiding you on purpose. As you headed towards the exit, you noticed one of the faculty members staring at you. You weren’t sure what he taught, or if he was even a professor, but his gaze lingered longer than it should have. You brushed it off, thinking you were imagining things.

Deciding to walk home since Alex hadn’t given any sign, a car’s horn startled you on your way. Relief washed over you when you saw it was him.

“Missed me?” he said, rolling the window down. “Jump in.”

You quickly got in the car, barely having time to kiss him before he started driving off as soon as you closed the door.

“Woah, there.” you said, bracing yourself.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want people to see.”

“They don’t know your car now, Mr. Turner.” you reminded him.

“Oh fuck, you’re right,” he said, “I keep forgetting.”

“‘Cause you’re so old.” you joked.

“So old, should put me in a geriatric home.” he added.

“I can take good care of you on my own.”

“Oh please, young lady, don’t let me burden you.” he mocked, glancing at you with his eyes scrunched up from the amusement clear on his face.

You settled back into your seat. The city streets blurred past as he drove, the familiar route home bringing a sense of normalcy amidst all the secrecy that you had to settle back into. 

“So, how was your lecture?” he asked, his tone casual but genuinely interested.

“Boring.” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “Yours are so much better.”

“Are they?” he asked, looking back at you and raising his eyebrows. 

“They’re the best.”

“I wonder why?” he said, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at the road ahead. 

“Because you’re my favourite.” you replied, humouring him and what he was hinting at. 

“Mhm, yeah keep going and you might get special treatment.” he joked, leading to you both starting to laugh.

“You didn’t call me like you promised.” you said eventually. Not that it was that big of a deal, but you were looking forward to hearing his voice. 

“I had to attend a meeting with the dean, start of the year stuff.” he explained, his expression softening. “Sorry I couldn’t sneak away.”

“Yeah, I get it. I just missed you.” you admitted, your tone softening.

He reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “I missed you too. Trust me, the highlight of my day was thinking about seeing you again.”

“Me too.” you sighed contentedly, letting the warmth of his presence envelop you.

As he pulled into the driveway, he turned off the engine and looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now, where were we?”

You grinned, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I think we were about to make up for lost time.”

He leaned over to kiss you, but his phone beeped, interrupting the moment. He sighed, taking it out of his pocket and slumping back in his seat, sighing again.

“What happened?” you asked, catching his hand in yours.

“Just reminding us that we have some event this Friday, for the professors to ‘hang out’” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, come on, you should go, you never go out.” you encouraged.

“I’d rather stay with you.”

“I’ll wait for you at home.”

“Okay.” he said, smiling again.

You both headed up into the flat, and Alex shrugged off his blazer and went to sit down in the living room. Almost immediately, you were greeted by a very excited Sock. Or rather, Alex was greeted. Sock loved him much more than he did you, even though Alex would never say that out loud.

As Sock curled around Alex’s legs, you asked, “Hey, there was this guy in the hallway today, kept looking at me. Tall, glasses, short brown hair. Do you know him?”

Alex’s eyes opened wide as he realised who you were talking about. “Yeah, uhh…He heard us in the bathroom that day.”

“Does he know it’s me?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening.

“I have no idea.” Alex replied, his expression turning serious, but he quickly composed himself. “Don’t worry too much.” he said, waving you over to him. Despite the anxiety that crept up on both of you, his reassuring smile eased your nerves.

“Now, where were we?” he asked again, pulling you down so you were sitting right on top of him.

His hands found their way around your waist, steadying you as you adjusted on his lap. He pulled you tight, your back pressing against his chest, his breath warm on the back of your neck. Slowly, he unbuttoned your shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked into your skirt. Once it was off, his mouth travelled down your back, only stopping when your bra got in the way. 

Quickly, he discarded it, throwing it to the side. Maybe landing on the couch, maybe on the floor. He didn’t notice, and neither did you. 

“Is this my special treatment?” you asked as you felt his hands creep back to your front, cupping your breasts in each of his palms and rubbing them back and forth over your nipples.

“Mine now.” he said, starting to grind his hips into you. “I have the upper hand here.” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

The sensation of his touch sent shivers down your spine. His fingers kneaded your breasts, each movement eliciting a soft gasp from you. His hips pressed into you with increasing urgency, and you could feel his arousal growing beneath you.

You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, feeling the heat of his body through your skin. His lips continued their journey, trailing kisses down your neck and across your shoulders. 

“Alex.” you breathed out, your voice a mix of need and affection. 

“Yes, love?” he responded, his hands never ceasing their teasing movements.

“Keep the clothes on.” 

He smiled against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “Okay.” he murmured, his hands sliding lower, teasing the edge of your skirt. “You should take yours off.” he said, his voice husky with anticipation.

You nodded, raising yourself from his lap to push down your skirt and underwear, too eager to delay. As you did, he used the time to unbuckle his belt and work his pants open, pulling his cock out and giving it a quick tug before letting it rest against his stomach. His hand reached for you, pulling you to sit back down on him. 

“Can I open the shirt?” he asked as his hands played with your hair. 

“Yes, but…Keep it on.” you replied.

The sensation of being utterly exposed before him while he remained fully dressed, not even his shoes off, was intoxicating. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt, but true to your request, he left it draped over his shoulders. The contrast of your bare skin against the cool fabric heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath. You could practically feel his eyes on you, even though you couldn’t see them, drinking in the sight of your vulnerability, and it sent a thrill through you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring the revealed skin. The way his clothes rubbed against you, the texture of his shirt, the roughness of his trousers, added an unexpected layer of sensation. It was an exquisite blend of anticipation and fulfilment, each movement drawing you closer together while keeping a tantalising barrier between you.

His lips found your neck again, and you tilted your head to give him better access. The warmth of his breath, the gentle scrape of his teeth, everything felt heightened. 

“Perfect.” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin. He adjusted you slightly, positioning you just right before pushing his hips up, meeting you with a slow, deliberate thrust, the mix of his careful control and the roughness of your urgency harmonising with the other.

He allowed you to slowly sink down fully, his hands guiding your hips until you were resting on his thighs. The sensation of him being buried inside you was still overwhelming every time. Every inch of him filled you, stretching you in the most satisfying way. You felt every ridge, every pulse, the connection between you both growing deeper with each passing second.

You could feel his heartbeat in sync with yours, the intimacy of the moment intensifying as you settled onto him. His hands gripped your hips firmly, grounding you while his lips continued to explore your neck and shoulders. The friction of his clothes against your skin added to the sensory overload, a delicious contrast to the heat and softness where your bodies met.

Alex’s breath hitched as he held you there, savouring the feeling of being so intimately joined. The slow movements allowed you to feel him fully, a dance of control and surrender. Each subtle shift of your hips, each slight adjustment you tried to make was met with an increasing tightening of his fingers on you. 

“Don’t move…Just- Just stay like that.” he whispered, his voice strained.

You settled fully back against his chest, his hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, where you held them in yours. You turned your head to look at him, and saw his eyes were almost closed, trying to hold back and not come inside you before you even started.

“Are you tired?” you asked him, your mouths so close that your breaths got sucked by his.

“No…Maybe a bit…Can I just hold you like this for a while?”

You nodded, and his mouth closed in on the corner of your lips in a gentle kiss. His arms tightened around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady heartbeat against your back. His hands traced idle patterns on your skin. Every now and then, his fingers would dip lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above your mound, only to retreat and continue their gentle path.

His breathing grew more even, and you could feel his tension easing slightly. He shifted beneath you, and you could feel him shifting inside you as well. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he murmured into your ear. 

“Yes.” you whispered back, your own desire mirrored in your voice.

His lips brushed against your neck, placing feather-light kisses along the curve of your shoulder. The sensation was maddening, each touch igniting a fire within you that was hard to contain. You clenched around him involuntarily, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

“You’re making it very difficult for me to last over here.” he chuckled softly, his breath hot against your skin.

“Good.” you teased, squeezing his hands that were still entwined with yours.

Alex’s hands finally moved with purpose, sliding up to cup your breasts again, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sharp jolt of pleasure made you arch your back, pressing yourself harder against him. His hips bucked in response, a low curse escaping his lips.

“God, I love you.” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw intensity that took your breath away.

He nudged you gently, signalling for you to pull your legs up. You complied, bringing your knees close to your chest and holding them with your hands. The angle change brought a new stretch as his hands locked onto your hips. He lifted you slightly, allowing himself to move within you. 

The slow rhythm he set was agonisingly perfect, each thrust so minor yet so intense, it felt like he was grinding into you, every inch of him nestled deep inside you. His movements were almost imperceptible, the only sounds being your shared breaths and the racing of your heartbeats. Each time he pushed into you, it felt like he was reaching deeper, touching parts of you that made your toes curl and breath hitch. You could feel the tension building within you, a sweet ache that promised release. 

“Alex.” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He responded with a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips a tender counterpoint. “I’m right here.” he whispered, his voice steady despite the evident strain of his own restraint.

You couldn’t help it, your body responding involuntarily as you clenched around him again. The reaction was immediate, his control breaking.

“Don’t- Fuck-” he swore, his voice strained, a mix of desperation and pleasure. 

The sensation of you tightening around him was too much. He’d been on edge all day, the tension building, the simple thought of this happening making him teeter on the brink ever since he got you in the car. 

It was all too much. The added pressure from the sheer tightness of you around him caused by the position, making him feel every inch of you gripping him, pushed him over. His legs trembled, thighs tensing as he spilled inside you, unable to hold back any longer. 

His orgasm felt like a hot, overwhelming flood taking him over. The intensity of it made him shudder, his breath ragged in your ear, each time his cock pulsed inside you making him shudder underneath. 

As his high subsided, he held you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a moment, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him shiver. 

But you still wanted him, so bad. You began moving your hips, a slow grind. Despite his overstimulation, he didn’t stop you.

His breath hitched, and he moaned softly, the mix of pleasure and pain and sensitivity making every movement feel electric. His hands found their way back to your hips, holding you steady as you set the pace, each roll of your hips drawing out pleasure for both of you.

His hand slid between your legs, rubbing messily over your clit in lazy circles to help get you there. The friction was perfect, and you could feel the heat continuing to build rapidly.

“Don’t stop, please.” you managed to gasp, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need.

“I won’t.” he promised, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “I’m right here, love.”

He almost felt dizzy from how good you could make him feel just by being there. He started moving his fingers more precisely, pushing harder onto the sensitive spot until you shook, your legs dropping back down and your body trembling with pleasure. He had to steady you so he could finish you properly, but as you squeezed around him again, he came, again. 

It took him by surprise how quickly his second load started spurting inside you, and it only heightened your own feelings, being so full of him. 

The intensity of his release sent another wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you let out a moan, your body convulsing as the orgasm tore through you. He held you tight, his grip almost bruising as he rode out the pleasure with you, until you were both lost in the exquisite agony of wanting, the sweet torment of being so deeply intertwined.

He gently lifted you up, reluctantly pulling out despite loving the feeling of being inside you. He simply couldn’t take it anymore, afraid his brain would shut off from overstimulation. Maybe he was being dramatic, or maybe the tiredness from going back to work got to him more than he thought.

You could feel his cum dripping out of you, landing on his clothed thigh. “Maybe you should have taken off your clothes.” you said, watching the dark material stain.

“You told me not to.” he replied, his chest rising and falling behind you as he slowly came back to earth.

“They’re full of your spunk now.” you said, your voice just as breathy as his, both of you equally exhausted.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” he muttered.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, but your body acted on impulse. Your fingers dragged along the wetness gathering on his trousers, picking it up and without thinking twice, you brought them straight to his mouth, resting on his bottom lip. He didn’t say anything, almost lifeless as you brushed them, wetting his lips further, feeling the cracks in his skin. His lips were always dry, but somehow they felt soft whenever he kissed you.

His kisses. You already missed his kisses. You turned awkwardly to kiss him, your tongue darting out instantly to lick his lips. He melted into it, his mouth opening to deepen it almost subconsciously. Mindless. Lazy. The taste of both of you mingling on your tongues.

It became a silent exchange of the overwhelming emotions you both felt. They never subsided, or lessened. It felt just as raw and desperate as the very first time. 

His hands, now free, roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if trying to meld you into himself. Your fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him anchored to you, always desperate for more of his touch.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You smiled, your forehead resting against his.

You kissed him again, slower this time. Time seemed to stretch. Eventually, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours once more, both of you breathing heavily.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” he suggested, his voice gentle. “Old man needs to sleep.” he joked.

You nodded, feeling a rush of affection for him. “Okay.”

As you moved to get up, his arms tightened around you, holding you close for just a moment longer. “I love you.” he whispered, “A lot.”

“I love you too, a lot.” you replied. 

Friday rolled around, and Alex found himself at the bar with his colleagues after a dinner at an overly fancy restaurant. The choice of such a place seemed almost a way to compensate for something, perhaps to give themselves more importance than they felt they had. The elaborate decor and pricey menu felt like an attempt to elevate their status, to project an image of success and sophistication.

The evening was pleasant enough. It wasn’t that he disliked his colleagues. They were fine company. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he would have rather spent the time with you, or even had you by his side there. But that wasn’t an option.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, he started to feel more relaxed. The alcohol smoothed out the edges of his initial reluctance. It wasn’t so bad after all. He laughed more freely, engaged in conversations, and found himself genuinely enjoying the night. But you were always in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of where he truly wanted to be.

There was a moment of clarity amidst the haze of alcohol where he realised how much he’d missed just being around more people. The camaraderie felt good, almost revitalising. He almost felt guilty for enjoying himself so much, but the simple truth was that it felt nice to let loose and be part of a group. Still, the thought of you lingered, a bittersweet undercurrent to his enjoyment.

Alex sipped his drink, the familiar burn of whiskey a comforting presence as he glanced around the room. His colleagues were in high spirits, laughing and sharing stories from their week. It was a scene of normalcy, something he’d been missing without even realising it. The isolation of your secret relationship had its costs, and tonight highlighted one of them starkly.

Despite the enjoyment, there was an underlying melancholy. The evening’s laughter felt a bit hollow without you to share it with. He wondered how you were spending your night, hoping you weren’t feeling as lonely as he did at times. The guilt of having fun without you gnawed at him, even as he forced himself to smile and participate in the revelry.

By the third drink, the guilt began to fade, replaced by a warm buzz that made everything seem a bit brighter. It felt good, almost too good. The night had taken on a surreal quality. The high ceilings and ambient lighting seemed to pulse with a life of their own, the sounds of clinking glasses and muted conversations creating a symphony of distraction.

Eventually, he went up to the bar to leave his now empty glass and perhaps order another if he was patient enough to wait in the queue. The place somehow got packed in the time between their arrival and now. Fuck it, I’ll get another, he thought. So he waited, elbow propped up on the counter, legs crossed and tapping the floor, waiting for the time to pass.

As he stood there, someone came up to him. Is she the secretary? No, no…Another professor? He knew her, definitely, but in his slightly inebriated state, he couldn’t quite place her. Maybe it was more than just slightly now. She had a warm smile and didn’t greet him, meaning they probably talked before during this little outing. But he couldn’t recall. Somehow she made him feel at ease.

“Enjoying the night?” she said, leaning against the bar beside him. 

“Yeah, it’s been good.” he replied, his usual reserved demeanour softened by the alcohol. “Nice to get out with everyone.”

She laughed. “You always seem so busy. It’s good to see you relaxing for a change.”

They got talking, and despite being more reserved usually, Alex let himself go when he felt comfortable or got a little liquid encouragement. And he felt both right now. He found himself opening up about work, sharing stories and frustrations that he typically kept to himself. She listened attentively, nodding and laughing at the right moments, making him feel heard and appreciated.

The bartender finally approached, and Alex ordered another drink, offering to get one for his newfound companion as well. She accepted, and they clinked glasses before taking a sip, each from their respective one. 

For a while, he allowed himself to forget the complexity of his personal life. The conversation flowed easily, and he even caught himself genuinely laughing at a joke she made. 

Slowly, Alex felt his body go numb, just a bit. His posture slumped slightly, and though there were no empty seats, standing was fine. At first. Without noticing, his head, once perched upright on his hand, started sliding lower, his eyes fighting to stay open at times.

She touched his arm lightly, teasing him, “Getting tired already?” He smiled but didn’t bother to straighten up or flinch from her touch. He felt warm. A contented haze enveloping him. 

“You caught me.” he said, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “It’s been a long week.”

“I can tell.” she replied, her tone playful. 

The softness of her touch, combined with the comfort of their conversation, made him feel quite relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the usual tension he carried, a tension that only you seemed to melt away. Only in your presence. Now, amidst the laughter and the dim bar lights, he found a momentary escape, a brief respite from the secrets.

As the evening wore on, he found himself leaning more into the bar for support, his movements slow and thoughtless. He could feel the warmth of her presence beside him. Even as his thoughts occasionally drifted back to you, he allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Alex could feel her grasp his shoulder, the touch more accentuated now, even through the thick leather of his jacket. He downed the last few sips left in his glass, eyes closing as the liquid hit his throat. He couldn’t taste it anymore.

Before he even got the chance to put his glass down, he felt her lean in closer, her hand messing with the collar of his jacket, or maybe the polo underneath. He couldn’t tell and was afraid to open his eyes. Then he felt her lips on his, pressing against his bottom lip where his mouth hung open slightly. He didn’t really feel it, just the pressure. 

Is she kissing me?

He couldn’t seem to pull away, and he didn’t. He didn’t think. He didn’t pull away. He let her kiss him, and maybe he even kissed her back. He couldn’t feel what he was doing exactly, but he tried to move with her. He probably seemed like a really bad kisser. The alcohol numbed his senses, leaving him disconnected from his actions, but the pressure of her lips brought a strange muddling over his body. 

The feel of her hand on his collar intensified, her fingers playing with the fabric, and he realised she was tugging him closer. He didn’t resist. Her lips were insistent, moving against his with a determination that contrasted sharply with his passive response. The kiss deepened, her tongue brushing against his lips, seeking entry. 

He parted his lips slightly, allowing her to explore, but there was no real engagement on his part. It was as if he were an observer in his own body, noting the sensations without fully experiencing them. Her kiss was fervent, almost desperate, and he could sense the urgency in her touch, but it felt distant, as though it were happening to someone else.

He tried to kiss her back, mimicking her movements, but it was clumsy, lacking the coordination and passion that typically characterised his kisses. His mind was a fog, clouded by the alcohol and the guilt that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. 

Through the haze, a thought pierced through: What am I doing? But the thought was fleeting, buried under the weight of the moment. He couldn’t pull away, didn’t want to break the spell, even though he knew he should.

Her hand slid from his collar to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss further. The intensity of her touch sent a shiver down his spine, momentarily cutting through the numbness. His hands, previously idle at his sides, found their way to her waist, a reflexive gesture that felt foreign and detached.

The kiss felt like it lasted an eternity, each passing second a struggle between giving in and restraint. He could feel her breath mingling with his, her heartbeat quickening against his chest. 

Gradually, he started to taste her on his tongue. A faint, unfamiliar flavour that became more noticeable with each passing moment. It wasn’t you. Fuck, he thought, the realisation hitting him hard. Yet, he didn’t pull back. He was stuck, unable to move, trapped in the moment. He had allowed this to happen, and now he was caught, paralyzed by a mix of guilt and inertia.

As the seconds ticked by, the taste grew more pronounced, a constant reminder that he was kissing someone who wasn’t you. His mind screamed at him to stop, to pull away, but his body wouldn’t comply. It was as if he were a spectator in his own life, watching helplessly as the scene unfolded.

The taste was wrong. It felt alien. He couldn’t shake the thought of you, the memory of your kisses, and how different they were from this. 

Her hands roamed over his shoulders and back, seeking more contact, while his own hands stayed awkwardly at her waist. He could feel her trying to beg for more from him, her eagerness a stark contrast to his own hesitation. The more she pushed, the more he felt himself retreating inwardly, even as his body remained pressed against hers.

In that moment, Alex was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The taste of her, the guilt of betraying you, and the frustration of his own paralysis all swirled together, leaving him disoriented and lost. He knew he had to stop, to pull away and regain control, but the numbness from the alcohol and the weight of his own actions kept him frozen in place.

Finally, she pulled back, her breath heavy, eyes searching his face for a reaction. Alex opened his eyes slowly, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. His heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, his mind scrambling for words that wouldn’t come.

“I...I can’t.” he stammered, his voice barely audible above the noise of the bar. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him, but he didn’t catch the expression on her face. He did feel her step back to give him space. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart and clear his muddled thoughts. The taste of her lingered on his lips, mingling with the bitterness of the whiskey.

Turning away, he made his way through the crowd, his mind in turmoil. The warmth of the alcohol still buzzed in his veins, but the clarity of his guilt cut through the haze. He needed to get out. 

Alex stepped outside, the night air cool against his flushed skin. He thought about calling you but changed his mind, feeling too ashamed and disoriented. He paced mindlessly by the door, until someone bumped into him as they exited the bar. He murmured a ‘sorry’ and shifted aside.

Patting his jacket, he checked his outer pockets, then his inner ones, searching for his cigarettes. Finally, he found the pack. He hadn’t quit, despite his attempts. Strawberry-flavoured air just didn't work on him. He struggled to light one, swearing quietly as the door opened again.

This time, someone approached him intentionally. Alex looked up and saw it was the guy you’d asked him about a few days ago. The one from the bathroom incident. Great.

“Was she the one who you got busy with in the bathroom, Turner?” the man asked, without any ill intent necessarily, just a crude attempt at starting a conversation.

Alex wasn’t in the right frame of mind. “No.” He replied, stern and harsh, the words coming out meaner than he intended. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs and momentarily calming his nerves. The guy raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the curt response.

“Hey, no need to bite my head off. Just making conversation.” He held up his hands in a mock defensive gesture.

Alex exhaled slowly, the smoke swirling around him. “Sorry.” he muttered, not really meaning it but wanting to defuse the situation. His head was spinning. 

The guy frowned, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “So who was it then?”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell his irritation. “Would you fuck off, please?” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He instantly regretted his outburst, sighing heavily. “Sorry.” he repeated, his voice softer, wearier.

The guy studied him for a moment, then nodded, stepping back. “Alright, man. Take it easy. Rough night?”

“You could say that.” Alex replied, taking another drag. He thought of you, waiting at home, and the shame washed over him anew.

The guy leaned against the wall, taking a swig from his beer. “I get it. These events can be a bit much sometimes. Need to blow off some steam.”

Alex just nodded, not trusting himself to say more. He was tired, emotionally drained, and the alcohol wasn’t helping to numb the feelings as much as he hoped. He felt raw, exposed, like the night had peeled back layers he wasn’t ready to deal with.

After a moment, the guy spoke again, more cautiously this time. “Look, if you ever need to talk or anything…I’m around. No judgement.”

Alex glanced at him, surprised by the offer. He nodded again, a bit more sincerely this time. “Thanks.” he said quietly.

The guy gave a small smile and pushed off the wall. “Take care, Turner. And maybe get some rest.”

Alex watched him go, feeling a strange mix of relief and discomfort. He took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it away. He needed to go home, to see you, to try and make sense of the mess in his head. Pushing through the haze, he started walking, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could help him find some clarity.

Alex stumbled into the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him. “Fuck.” he murmured under his breath, the echo of the sound and the evening still reverberating in his mind.

You were waiting for him, just as you’d promised.

He saw the bedroom door ajar, dim light from the nightstand lamps seeping through the crack. Shrugging off his jacket, he tried to hang it up but gave up after a few tries, letting it fall wherever. He kicked off his shoes and headed to the bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was too hot. He didn’t want to feel it on his skin anymore.

Then he saw you. Waiting on your knees on the bed, hands on your thighs, clad in the lingerie he bought you once but that you never got to wear because neither of you could be bothered or had enough time to play around.

He blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as he took in the sight, as if making sure he wasn’t seeing things. He was seeing things, but hopefully he wasn’t just imagining them.

“Fuck…me.” he said, dumbfounded, not moving from his place.

“Come and kiss me if you’re not afraid.” you replied.

He hesitated for a moment. The alcohol still buzzed in his veins, making everything feel a bit surreal. Slowly, he stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. Each step felt like a mile, his body heavy. 

When he reached the bed, he knelt down, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped your face. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours tentatively, as if afraid you might disappear if he pressed too hard. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle touch, but as the seconds ticked by, it deepened, the pent-up desire spilling over.

You responded eagerly, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer. The feel of your body against his was intoxicating. His fingers trailed down your sides, feeling the delicate lace of the lingerie, the contrast between the soft fabric and the warmth of your skin.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“What?” you asked, pulling him up the bed over you, your fingers quickly fiddling with the zipper on his jeans, finding your way inside his boxers and palming him. He moaned, not saying anything else, his face rubbing into your neck as your hand worked on him, getting him hard.

“How drunk are you?” you asked, noticing it took longer than usual to even get a sign of life from his cock.

“Verrry.” he said, rolling the ‘r’ unnecessarily and giggling afterward. The sound was a mix of amusement and embarrassment, making you smile despite the situation. 

His laughter was short-lived, replaced by a low moan as your touch became more insistent. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his body responding to your familiar touch even through the haze of alcohol. He pressed closer, his lips brushing your ear, his breath warm and uneven. 

“Feels so good…” he murmured, his voice slurred. His hands, though shaky, found their way to your hips, pulling you against him as he sought more of the connection he craved. 

Your free hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer for another kiss. This one was hungrier, driven by the need to just feel him. He kissed back with fervour, his body finally catching up to the urgency of his need for you.

As his erection grew in your hand, so did his control, his hands becoming slightly steadier, more purposeful. He pushed his jeans and underwear down with a grunt of frustration, his movements clumsy but determined. You helped him, your own hands eager to feel the heat of his skin against yours.

When he was finally free, he pressed against you, his cock hard and demanding against your thigh. You could feel the dampness of your own arousal on the lace. 

He murmured something, his voice muffled by the way he had his face buried into your skin. You couldn’t make out the words, his quiet voice lost in the moment.

“What did you say?” you asked, your own voice breathless.

“I asked…” he paused, biting gently near your collarbone, the sensation sending shivers through you, “If you’ll ride me.”

His request hung in the air, raw and needy. You nodded, pushing him gently on the bed onto his back. He lay there, looking up at you as you straddled him, feeling the heat of his skin against yours, the hard length of him pressing against you.

“The other way.” he said sheepishly. 

His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed. His lips, slightly parted, were still wet from your earlier kisses, and his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the softness of his eyes.

“Gonna boss me around tonight?” you teased, leaning down and touching the tip of his nose with your finger. His eyes crossed slightly as he tried to follow your finger, and he chuckled when he realised it.

He made a small circular motion with his finger, signalling you to turn around. You smiled, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “You can be the boss.” you said. 

You turned around, shifting your position to face away from him. The new angle allowed him to guide you more easily, and he couldn’t help but admire the view. His hands roamed over your curves, lingering on your hips before sliding down to your ass. It was clear he just wanted to see it while you rode him, evident in the way his fingers gripped you possessively as you slid the fabric covering you to the side and lowered yourself onto him. 

He tried to steady you, his hands staying loosely on your waist as you began to move. The rhythm was slow at first, a tantalising build-up that had you both on edge. He guided your movements with gentle pressure, his fingers digging harder into your flesh as you picked up the pace. 

“Just like that.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. His hands slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine and the details of the skimpy bodysuit. 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping his legs for support, giving him better leverage to control the depth and angle of his thrusts. His grip tightened, and he increased the pace, more or less taking over for you, each movement more forceful. 

He tried to sit up slightly, to raise his back from the mattress, but halfway through he couldn’t seem to do it fully. Instead, he brought you down onto him with his grip on your waist. He laughed at his own failed attempt, making you laugh in turn. His laugh was infectious, especially this drunken one. 

His cock was still inside you. Right. He quickly remembered that, guiding you both to the left, laying on his side and lifting your right leg into the air. He tried to hold it but then he also wanted to rub your pussy. And he found he couldn’t do both.

“You hold it.” he asked, guiding your hand to your thigh before moving his own to your front to rub your clit as he pumped his cock into you.

It wasn’t as intense, the angle more difficult to go as deep. But god, it was hot. Incredibly hot. The position allowed for a different kind of intimacy, his fingers working your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your breath hitched, and your muscles tensed as the pleasure coiled tightly within you.

“Oh god...” you gasped, your voice trembling. He kissed your neck, his lips warm and encouraging against your skin. 

“You let go now.” he whispered.

With his words and the relentless stimulation, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your hand tightened on your thigh, holding it higher as you rode out the climax. He continued to kiss your neck, murmuring soothing words as you trembled in his arms. The feeling of release was overwhelming, your mind blanking out everything except the sensation of him inside you, his touch guiding you through it. 

You let go of your leg, feeling the tension release as he slipped out of you and lay on his back. Turning around, you saw him jerking his cock, his eyes half-lidded. 

“I wanna come too.” he said, fumbling with his feet, trying to push down his socks. They stubbornly stuck at his heels, and he eventually gave up with a frustrated huff. 

You placed your hand over his, guiding it away as you took over. Your thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock, and he let out a half-gasp, half-moan, his body shuddering at your touch.

“Your mouth…” he murmured, eyes fluttering from the pleasure, trying to focus.

“The boss wants my mouth?” you teased, leaning in closer.

He opened his eyes, a determined glint shining through his haze, fighting to keep them locked onto yours. “Yeah…Boss wants to fuck your mouth.” he chuckled at his own words, his fingers trailing through your hair, guiding you gently but firmly.

You leaned down, your hand still working his shaft, and took him into your mouth. His moan was immediate. He reached down, tangling his fingers in your hair better, guiding you as you moved up and down. 

You took him deeper, feeling the pulsing heat of his erection against your tongue. His grip tightened, and he thrust up into your mouth, the rhythm urgent and demanding. 

“Fuck, just like that.” he breathed, his voice a strained whisper. 

You hollowed your cheeks, increasing the suction. His hips bucked, and you could taste the salty precum on your tongue, a prelude to what was coming. You increased the pace, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth, stroking the base of his cock while your lips and tongue focused on the head.

He was close, you could feel it in the way his body trembled, the way his grip on your hair became almost painfully tight. 

He pulled you off with a ragged groan, his grip on your hair still insistent as he guided you to lie on your back instead. He moved swiftly, straddling your chest and inching up your body until his cock was resting on your chin, still slick with your saliva. 

He pushed his cock back into your mouth, the head sliding past your lips. The angle was different, more demanding, and you had less control. He began to thrust. You tried to open your mouth wider, but your teeth still grazed him occasionally. He didn’t seem to mind, his eyes half-closed, lost in the sensation.

His expression was a mixture of raw need and pleasure, a look that made every bit of discomfort worth it. He was in another dimension, utterly consumed by the moment. You let him use you, relaxing your throat as much as possible, accepting his pace.

Leaning down, he braced himself with his arms on either side of your head, his body looming over you. His thrusts grew more forceful, his breathing harsh and uneven. The bed creaked beneath you, the rhythm of his movements relentless. You felt every inch of him as he drove deeper, his hips snapping forward again and again.

You took it. Took it all, pushing him to the edge, and then he was coming, hot and fast, spilling into your mouth with a broken cry. 

You swallowed, the taste of him filling your senses, and kept going, milking every last drop until he was spent, collapsing back onto the bed with a shuddering sigh. You got up, sitting back on your heels and wiping your mouth, watching as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Fuck…” he murmured, eyes closed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “If only you could see how pretty you are for me.”

“Stop it.” you said, adjusting the bodysuit back into place, though you knew it was no use and you’d be taking it off soon. It gave you something to do with your hands, a way to distract yourself from how deeply he affected you.

“Why would I stop?” he asked, rolling over onto his stomach, reaching out to touch you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your thigh. 

“I’m gonna take a shower.” you said, moving his hand away and shuffling slightly on the bed. 

“Do I have to take a shower too?” he asked, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper into the sheets. His body sprawled out, looking utterly spent. 

“You probably should. You smell.” you replied, smiling slightly as you glanced back at him. His dishevelled hair and the lazy way he laid across the bed made him look adorably helpless.

He groaned loudly, refusing to move. “But I’m so tired.” His words were a mix of genuine exhaustion and playful whining, as if he was testing just how far he could push his luck with you.

“You can do it in the morning. I’ll put up with it for the night.” you said, adjusting the straps of your bodysuit to straighten them as you prepared to leave the room. 

Just as you were about to step out, he lifted his feet slightly, his voice coming out in a sleepy mumble. “Can you take my socks off, please?” He stretched his legs out, feet dangling in the air.

You chuckled, walking back to the bed. “Seriously?”

“Please.” he repeated, his tone playful but clearly exhausted. His feet wiggled slightly, as if encouraging you to hurry up.

You laughed. “Lazy.”

He grinned, eyes closed again. “Spoiled.”

You bent down, grabbing the edge of his socks and pulling them off one at a time. His feet were warm and a bit sweaty as you gave him a quick rub. He let out a contented sigh, his entire body visibly relaxing.

“There. Happy now?” 

“Very.” he murmured, already half-asleep as he settled deeper into the mattress, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. 

You shook your head, amused, as you finally made your way to the bathroom. The sound of the water running was a welcome distraction, the warmth enveloping you and giving you a moment to yourself. You stepped under the spray, letting it wash over you, cleansing your skin. 

After a while, you turned off the water, wrapping yourself in a towel. As you walked back to the bedroom, you found him exactly where you left him, sprawled out on the bed, his breathing slow and steady.

I can hear her begging me to fuck her, her voice hoarse and desperate. I can almost hear her pleading with me, her body trembling with need. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. If she’s imagining the feel of my cock inside her, filling her up and taking her to new heights of pleasure.

You woke up and saw him still in the same position he fell back asleep in after momentarily waking when you came into bed. His breathing was deep and steady, his face relaxed in slumber. You watched him for a moment, the way his eyelashes fluttered slightly with each exhale, and felt a pang of affection. His hair was tousled, and the sheet barely covered his hips, revealing the curve of his back. 

She’s beneath me, her eyes locked onto mine, her lips parted as she gasps for breath. Bringing her pleasure is one of the best things, a pure, unadulterated joy that courses through me. I would do anything she wanted, anything to hear that sweet sound of her moans, to feel the way her body responds to my touch. Every inch of her is a paradise I want to explore endlessly.

You came back in to check on him at some point, but he was still sleeping. You let him be. He was pretty drunk last night, and it was a Saturday. He could rest a little longer. The room was filled with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. You adjusted the covers slightly, making sure he was comfortable, and smiled to yourself at how peaceful he looked, contrasting sharply with the rawness he showed last night.

Her hands grasp at me, her nails digging into my skin as she pulls me closer. The urgency in her movements, the way she arches her back, pushing herself against me. It drives me wild. I can almost feel her warmth, the way her body clenches around me. It’s a need, a deep, primal urge to give her everything. 

As you two were playing in the living room, Sock somehow made his way into the bedroom and jumped on Alex, right on his ass that was contoured by the sheets from the way he slept on his front with one leg bent up slightly. You took him away and hoped it didn’t wake Alex up. His leg twitched slightly but nothing more. You gently stroked the cat’s fur, whispering soothing words to keep him calm and prevent him from disturbing Al again, like he was some baby you didn’t want to start crying. 

I shift slightly, trying to get closer, to deepen the connection. Her breathy whimpers turn into cries of pleasure, and I can feel the building tension, the climax approaching. I am wholly consumed by her. The need to bring her that pleasure, to be the one who makes her lose control, it's overwhelming. I’d move heaven and earth for her, give up anything just to see her smile, to hear her whisper my name in that tone that sends shivers down my spine. I hold onto that thought, the pure bliss of being everything she needs, of losing myself in her.

You made your way back in bed, sitting at the other end, bored of waiting for him to wake up. You observed him for a while, then tried your chances by gently poking him with your feet, nudging him in the face until he eventually stirred and opened his eyes. His eyelids fluttered, a slow, reluctant motion as if he was trying to hold onto the remnants of his dream. You smiled as he groaned softly, his hand instinctively reaching up to push your foot away, but not with much force.

“Hey.” you said.

He groaned again and buried his face back in his pillow for a moment. “My head is killing me.”

“You were pretty drunk last night.”

“What?”

“You don't remember?” you asked, a slight disappointment in your voice. It would hurt a little if he forgot what happened.

“No. Yes- No, I remember, I remember.” he said, turning over onto his back and grabbing your feet into his hands, placing them on his chest. The warmth of his skin against yours brought a sense of reassurance, and his eyes, though still heavy with sleep, locked onto yours. His thumbs gently stroked the tops of your feet, a silent apology for his initial confusion.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temple with one hand while keeping the other on your feet. “I remember everything.” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “How could I forget? You were...Incredible.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, the disappointment melting away. “Good.” you replied softly, shifting closer to him. “I was worried you might have been too out of it.”

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes despite the lingering hangover. “No way. I’d have to be dead to forget a night like that.”

He continued to play with your feet, kissing the soles tenderly, rubbing his thumbs deeper into the arches as if massaging away the remnants of your worry. 

“Seems you haven’t.” you teased, glancing pointedly at the obvious tent in the sheets. His dick was very much awake compared to the rest of him, standing so upright that it was almost comical.

He followed your gaze and then groaned, hiding his face behind your feet. “Oh god.” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. He knew he’d been horny from the dream. Those kinds of dreams were a regular occurrence. But with the headache and the general grogginess, he hadn’t expected his body to respond quite so enthusiastically.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound mingling with his own sheepish chuckle. “That bad, huh?”

He peeked out from behind your feet, giving you a lopsided grin. “Guess I’m more of a morning person than I thought…I was dreaming of you again.” His hand traced small circles on your ankle as he spoke.

You asked him what the dream was about, curiosity sparking in your voice. He hesitated for a moment, the lopsided grin softening as he tried to brush it off. “It’s…I don’t want to bore you with it.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you slid one leg down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You could never bore me.” you said, your foot continuing its path until it reached his crotch. You pressed gently, feeling the hardness that had been teasing you both, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact. 

His eyes fluttered shut before they flicked back to yours, the playful glint returning as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, clearly debating whether to keep it to himself or share. “I was dreaming about…Well, let’s just say you were pretty persuasive.” he finally admitted, his voice low, tinged with that mix of embarrassment and arousal that was so undeniably him.

You could feel him twitching further beneath your touch as you continued to press against him. “Tell me more.” you urged, your voice laced with a teasing edge, but beneath that, a genuine interest.

His breath came out in a shaky exhale as your words settled between you, the tension palpable. Without breaking eye contact, he gently reached for your other leg, guiding it down with a deliberate slowness. His hand was firm as he placed your foot beside the first, creating a pressure that made his entire body tense. 

“Persuasive how?” you murmured, your curiosity spiking as you rubbed him through the thin fabric, feeling the pulse of his length under your touch. His breath hitched again, and he let out a quiet groan, eyes fluttering shut as if he were trying to relive the dream he was about to share. 

“You had this way of…convincing me.” he began, his voice rough and unsteady, “Making me want things. Crave them.” His hands moved to your ankles, guiding your feet so they pressed more firmly against him, the heat between your bodies growing, his arousal palpable through the sheet.

His words faltered as you slid your feet with a slow, teasing rhythm, feeling the hardness beneath the fabric shift under your touch. His grip on your ankles tightened slightly, and with a frustrated sigh, he pushed the sheet down, exposing himself fully to you. The air between you seemed to crackle as he guided your feet directly over his cock, the head slick with precum, making the slide smoother. 

You couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles twitched under your touch, his hips subtly bucking up as you stroked him with both feet. It was messy, the coordination awkward, your feet sometimes brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, sending a tickling sensation up your legs that made you both chuckle softly in the midst of it.

But despite the lack of finesse, the sensation was pleasurable, and he was clearly losing himself in it, the words of his dream now coming out in fragmented whispers. “You…you just wouldn’t stop,” he breathed, his voice trembling, “Kept…touching me, like this, making me lose my mind.”

His confession only spurred you on, and you could feel him twitching more urgently under your feet, his precum spilling out over your skin, making the slide even slicker, more desperate. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at how utterly undone he was becoming. You were addicted to making his body break. 

He groaned, low and deep, his grip on your ankles almost bruising as he tried to control himself, but the tension in his body betrayed how close he was to the edge. The dream he tried to recount was slipping away from him now, replaced by the reality of what was happening between you, his voice lost in the desperate sounds of his breathing, the soft gasps and groans that filled the space around you.

His eyes were half-lidded, the dark pupils blown wide with lust as he looked down at the mess you were making of him. His cock twitched under your feet, leaking more and more as you continued to slide against him. You pressed your toes against the throbbing head of his cock, feeling the way it pulsed beneath you, hot and desperate. His reaction was immediate. His hips jerked up and a strangled moan escaped his lips. 

You kept the pressure steady, your toes teasing the sensitive tip, and that was all it took. The first spurt of hot cum splashed against your skin before coating his belly in thick, white streams. You watched, entranced, as the liquid pooled in the dip of his belly button, the sight oddly intimate, almost mesmerising.

His hands tightened on your ankles as his body continued to jerk with the aftershocks of his orgasm, each spasm sending another small wave of cum spilling over his stomach. His eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back as he tried to catch his breath. 

You eased up the pressure with your toes, letting him come down from the high, your eyes trailing over the mess you’d made of him, the contrast of his flushed skin against the creamy white fluid stark and undeniably arousing. He finally opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and there was that vulnerability again in the way he completely surrendered to you. 

His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he looked down at the mess between you. “You really are persuasive.” he murmured, voice rough and full of a satisfied warmth that made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the sight of him so thoroughly undone by your touch sending a thrill through you. You shifted slightly so that your toes brushed against the last traces of his release, smearing it across his skin as you did. He groaned at the sensation, his hands sliding up to gently pull your legs away from his oversensitive cock. 

You watched him for a moment. The sight of him like this, vulnerable, satisfied, a bit of a mess, stirred something warm in you. But you knew that warmth wouldn’t last long if you let him lie there much longer.

“Get in the shower.” you said gently, your tone leaving no room for argument. 

His grin widened, and he raised an eyebrow at you, clearly recalling the night before when he’d stubbornly refused to shower, claiming he was too tired. “Alright, alright.” he said, his voice still a bit husky as he finally sat up, the movement slow and languid. 

You couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the faint sheen of sweat making his body glisten. He reached for a napkin lying forgotten on the bedside table, wiping away the mess on his stomach with a nonchalant swipe before crumpling the napkin and tossing it aside. 

As he stood up, you noticed how the stretch of his body made him wince slightly, the hangover clearly taking its toll on him, though he didn't seem to mind. His movements were unhurried, almost lazy, and you could tell he was enjoying the afterglow of what had just transpired. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to tame the wild strands, but it did little to help. 

“I’m gonna run to the store.” you said, your voice soft as you began to take off your pyjamas in exchange for a loose dress that had been draped over the chair by the bed, not before cleaning yourself up as well. “Sock’s food is running low.” 

He nodded, distractedly running his fingers through his hair again, his eyes momentarily distant as if lost in thought. Then, as you slipped the dress over your head and smoothed it down, he looked at you. “Can you grab me something to eat?” he asked, his tone hopeful. “Maybe from that bakery down the street from the flower market? The one with the croissants I like?”

You smiled as you made sure the dress was sitting just right, the soft fabric brushing against your skin. “Of course.” you said, stepping up to him. He was still standing by the side of the bed, watching you with that sleepy, satisfied expression. 

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down for a quick kiss. His lips were warm and soft against yours, lingering just long enough to make you wish you didn’t have to leave. But you knew Sock would be giving you the cold shoulder if you didn’t come back with food soon, and you couldn’t let that happen.

“Don’t take too long in the shower.” you teased as you pulled back, your fingers brushing lightly against the stubble on his jaw. “I’ll be back soon.”

He grinned down at you, his hands sliding around your waist for a brief moment, holding you close. “I won’t.” he promised. “But you should take your time. It looks nice out today.”

Your smile faltered slightly as his words hung in the air, the warmth of the moment tinged with a familiar sadness. You looked up into his eyes, your fingers still resting gently against his jaw, feeling the roughness of the hair beneath your touch. “I wish we could go out together.” you admitted softly. 

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face as he held you a little tighter, his hands warm and steady on your waist. The easy grin from before faded, replaced by something more serious, more bittersweet. He nodded, his eyes searching yours, as if he wished he could change the reality you both had to navigate. 

“I know.” he murmured, his voice low, laced with that quiet frustration that came whenever you talked about this. “I wish we could too.”

You sighed, leaning into him, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his arms around you for just a moment longer. “Maybe one day.”

He nodded again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if he could transfer all the unspoken promises through that single touch. “One day.” he echoed, though his voice held the same mix of hope and resignation that yours did.

You pulled back, your hand sliding from his jaw to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. “In the meantime,” you said, forcing a small smile as you tried to lighten the mood, “I’ll get your croissants, and we can pretend we’re having breakfast together. Since it’s already noon, sleepyhead.”

He chuckled softly. “I’d like that.” he said, his thumb brushing over your waist before he reluctantly let go. 

“I’ll be back soon.” you promised again. 

As you left, you heard the shower start up again behind you, the sound mingling with the quiet that settled over you both. 

He sat down at his desk, the chair creaking softly as he settled in. The sunlight filtering through the blinds did little to warm the chill that had settled over him since the moment you kissed him goodbye. He stared at the pages in front of him, fingers hovering over the pen rest right beside them. 

The moment your lips touched his, the memory of last night came crashing back. The bar. The other woman. The way he’d let her, let himself get too close, too careless. He’d pushed it out of his mind, forgotten it entirely in the warmth of waking up with you. But now, in the solitude of his office, it returned with brutal clarity. 

He could still taste the remnants of the alcohol and the way her lips had brushed against his even though he’d brushed it all away. It felt foreign, wrong, now that he was sober. The guilt gnawed at him, a sharp contrast to the tenderness you had shown him just moments before. How could I let it happen? How could I forget?

His fingers finally moved, but not to grab the pen. Instead, they rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the tension building there. He needed to write it down, to purge it from his mind somehow before you came back. Maybe if he got it out, he could move past it, find a way to forget it again. Or at least a way to keep it from you, to prevent it from tarnishing the delicate balance you both maintained. 

But the memory of her lips, so different from yours, lingered. And with it, the fear that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and began writing. Over time, putting pen to paper had become his way of dealing with the mess of emotions inside him, a way to avoid letting them fester until they became too much to bear.

“I’m only as sick as the secrets within

Maybe it’s not so evil as much as it’s hungry  

I’m broken down and hungry for your love  

You’re sewn into my soul  

I’ll keep sleeping and you’ll make me dream of you  

Sometimes a man gets carried away

When he feels he should be having his fun  

Much too blind to see the damage he’s done.”

He read over what he’d just written, feeling the sting of shame and self-loathing rise up. Half of it was an attempt to excuse his own stupidity, a way of justifying what he’d done. Disgusted, he scribbled over most of the lines, tearing into the paper with his pen.

It was then that he noticed the wet patches, the ink beginning to run as tears dripped onto the page. He wiped his eyes, feeling the moisture spreading beneath his fingertips, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to stop the flood. But it was no use. The tears kept coming, a physical manifestation of the guilt he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried to rationalise it.

He kept crying, the tears falling faster now as the reality of his actions sank in. The weight of it was unbearable. How did it come to this? If only he had pushed her away. If only he hadn’t let it happen. If only he had remembered who he was, who he belonged to. The thoughts looped endlessly in his mind, taunting him. 

If she didn’t think of him as single, she wouldn’t have approached him like that in the first place. He cursed himself for not setting boundaries, for not making it clear that he was unavailable, that he was committed to you. But how could he?

He wished the truth could just come out, but the thought of the consequences ate him up. He wished he could just confess and end the torment. But there was a cowardice in him, a deep-seated fear of the unknown, of losing you, of causing you any more unnecessary pain. 

He always did what he thought he should, always acted according to some unwritten script that told him how to behave, what to say, how to keep the peace. But why? Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just be honest, be himself, without worrying about the fallout? He hated the person he had become. The person who let things happen, who didn’t take control, who let his life be dictated by others’ expectations and his own misguided sense of obligation.

The tears continued to flow as he sat there, hunched over the desk, his hands shaking as he gripped the pen. The words on the page blurred together, the ink smudged by his tears, a perfect metaphor for the mess he had made of things. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t undo what had happened. All he could do was sit there and let the guilt eat away at him, piece by piece.

His vision blurred as well as he thought of your face, the trust in your eyes, and the love you had always given him so freely. Why did he have to complicate things when all he wanted was to be with you, to be honest and open, without all the secrets and lies? The weight of it all pressed down on him, making his chest ache with the need to let it out, to unburden himself of this shame that was eating him alive.

You arrived home and the moment you stepped inside something felt off. You were startled by the muffled sounds coming from Alex’s office. Low, anguished cries, punctuated by the occasional thud. Just as confused, Sock was pawing anxiously at the closed door, clearly distressed by the noise. You knocked gently, but no answer came. 

You hesitated for a moment, then quietly pushed the door open. The sight that greeted you made your heart sink. Alex sat with his back to you, dressed in one of his usual striped shirts, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had settled there. The sound of his crying was even louder now, raw and unfiltered. His head kept rhythmically hitting against the desk, each thud a painful counterpoint to the sobs that racked his body. 

This wasn’t like him. He never resorted to violence, especially not towards you, or anyone else really. He’d never been the type to lash out or break things, but seeing him like this, hurting himself instead, was something you hadn’t expected. You could feel the panic rising in your chest as you stepped closer.

“Al?” you called out, your voice trembling slightly. He didn’t acknowledge you, his body locked in a cycle. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort.

But he flinched away, his voice choked with tears as he pleaded. “No, don’t touch me…Please.” he sobbed, his words barely intelligible through the pain. “I’ll be fine…I- I’ll explain.”

Your heart broke hearing the desperation in his voice, the struggle to hold onto some semblance of control even as he unravelled in front of you again. You wanted nothing more than to hold him, to tell him it was okay, whatever it was. But his plea for space held you back, leaving you torn between staying by his side and respecting his need to process whatever was tearing him apart.

You sat down on the loveseat across the room, trying to give him the space he asked for but unable to take your eyes off him. You watched as he struggled to settle down, his breathing ragged as he wiped at his eyes with trembling hands. He blew his nose, the sound harsh in the quiet room, before tossing the tissue into the trash along with the crumpled-up papers scattered across his desk. 

Finally, he stood, brushing his hands down his striped shirt, wiping away the last remnants of his tears. When he caught you looking at him, he chuckled, a strained, uncomfortable sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Sorry.” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll go wash my face and then…Yeah.” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. He seemed almost embarrassed, as if apologising for letting you see him like this after he’d promised to himself that he wouldn’t let it happen again. And you realised how much he was still trying to protect you, even from his own pain.

You nodded, offering him a small, tentative smile, though your heart ached to see him like this. You didn’t know what was going on, but you could feel the storm brewing just beneath the surface. All you could do was wait for him to be ready to share it with you.

He came back into the room, settling beside you on the loveseat, his hands resting in his lap. He started to tug at the skin around his nails, an anxious habit you recognised. There was a tension in the air as if he was trying to gather the courage to say what was weighing on his mind.

“Remember when I asked you to hate me? On the first night we spent together?” His voice was soft, still shaky.

“Yeah.” you replied, your voice gentle, trying to meet his gaze.

He muttered, “I need you to promise me you won’t hate me now.” as he moved one of his hands over yours, his touch light but desperate for reassurance. “Please don’t hate me.” he said, finally looking at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying, the pain clear in them.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the exhaustion etched into his face, the way his eyes were rimmed with redness, the way they glistened as if he were holding back another wave of tears. 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you…Even if you asked me to.” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a small attempt to comfort him. 

He took a deep breath, hand still gripping yours tightly. “I kissed someone else last night.” he confessed, his voice barely audible. The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, and you felt the world tilt, your mind scrambling to process what he’d just said. You didn’t know how to react. Whether you wanted to cry, to slap him, or to just...do nothing. It felt surreal, like you were detached from your own emotions, hovering somewhere outside of yourself.

He continued, his words tumbling out, desperate to explain. “One of the women in the group came up to me, and we were talking, I don’t even know what we talked about, and then she…she kissed me. And I…I kissed her back.” His voice cracked on that last word, and you could see the regret etched into every line on his face. “I wish I didn’t, because it wasn’t you, and it didn’t feel right. I don’t even know why I did it, or why I even got that drunk, and-” His voice cracked again, and he paused, his breath hitching as he tried to keep from breaking down, on the verge of tears again. 

“It wasn’t intentional,” he finally said, “I know that sounds so stupid and disgusting, but it just…happened.” his voice wavered, thick with shame. “And I’m tired. I’m so tired of keeping you hidden. It shouldn’t feel foreign when I go out with other people, just because I haven’t in months. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I want to be with you.” He was teetering on the edge of falling apart again, and you could see the strain in his eyes, the way his entire body seemed to tremble. “I want us to be out in the open, to be real. I hate that it feels like we’re living in different worlds sometimes.”

His words tumbled out in a rush, desperate and not knowing what he was going to say next, and you could see him struggling to hold himself together. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His voice was laced with confusion, almost disbelieving, his eyes searching yours for some clarity.

“Yeah...it’s...it’s gonna be okay. I’m okay.” you said, but you could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to hold them back. You didn’t want to cry, not now, not in front of him, but the emotion was too overwhelming.

“I never wanted to make you cry.” he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against yours now, the touch so gentle it almost broke you.

You pulled your legs up onto the leather seat, curling up close to his chest, seeking comfort in the warmth of his body. His arm instinctively wrapped around you, holding you tightly. 

“I don’t want to hide either.” you murmured into his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but you knew he heard you. The words were heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything you both had been holding back for too long while trying to pretend everything was going to be fine the way it was.

“Okay.” he replied softly, his voice full of quiet resolve as he rested his head gently against yours. 

There was a sense of finality in the word even though this wasn’t the moment to make the change, and he knew it. The air between you was too fragile, the rawness of his confession still too fresh. He didn’t want to push it now, not when the wound was still open and bleeding. And you weren’t ready to make sense of it all either, not yet. 

For now, the silence was enough, the quiet understanding that something had shifted, but not yet settled. The comfort of his arms around you, his head resting gently against yours, was all either of you could manage for the moment. And for now, it would have to be enough.

a/n: And it's almost over...I hope you like it, where I went with the story. I had the idea in mind for quite a while and I finally finished it. I didn't really know at which point to end this part but I feel like it's a good one leading up to the last one.

The bit he "wrote" are lyrics from 'As Sick As The Secrets Within' by Marilyn Manson and 'Lover, You Should've Come Over' by Jeff Buckley (thanks to the anon who brought that song to my attention in an ask)

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[astxroiid]

empire state of mind // tasm!peter parker

❥ warm New York, cold nights, sushi, pining, heroes and their hopeless romanticism.

wc: 1.5k

navigation ✩ new york private life (I) ✩ manhattan longing (III)

The movie finishes with little to no emotional distractions from either of you. You look to Peter, "This was fun! We need to do it again sometime."

You smile but all Peter feels is dread. Are you sending him home? Already? He's had a great time but he doesn’t wanna go home so soon.

“Yeah… I had a lot of fun too,” he gives a downturned smile.

"How about you come back on Friday? I'm free all day after my class at 10."

Your voice drowns out and Peter feels a tingle up his back. The hairs on his arms stand on end. Something bad is happening...

He turns his head, realizing that whatever his Spidey-Sense is telling him is happening, is major. He tries to hide his worry as he stands, grabbing his bag from beside the door.

"H-hey! Where are you going?" the worry filling up your throat and spilling into your tone.

"Friday. After 10. Sounds amazing. I'll be there. Gotta go-" he doesn't stay to hear your response. Slamming the door behind him. You're left on the couch, in shock and feeling a little sad.

A few moments later, you see Spider Man swing by your window and off into town, towards the flashing red and blue lights.

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

That was Tuesday, it's now Thursday night.

Sorry for dashing off last night, I forgot I had to pick some things up for my aunt!

Peter's message from Wednesday sits unopened on your phone. You have no idea how to respond.

♡.

Peter's all kinds of a mess right now. Terrified he messed things up by leaving so quickly the other night. Nervous that your date is canceled. He hasn't heard back from you since that night.

What if you're mad? Or now uninterested because of the way he ran out? What can I do to fix this? Peter's internal thoughts have been going haywire since Tuesday.

♡.

You phone buzzes as you begin to study for one of your exams. You decide to ignore it

Then it buzzes, and again.

You grab the device in anger with full intentions of putting it on do not disturb. Until you see the messages are from Peter.

Be ready tomorrow at 2.

I'm taking you somewhere nice to make up for my actions.

Is that sushi place still an option?

You smile and respond: Only if you show up on time :)

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Peter does show up on time, early actually. He takes you downtown, walking through little shops, trying to get the confidence to hold your hand.

Right now would be the perfect time.

The both of you walking along the sidewalk. Shoulder to shoulder.

Do it, Peter. You both think. And then, your thoughts separate.

I'm basically begging for it with the way I'm pushing my shoulder into his. From you.

What if she doesn't want that? And I ruin the whole moment? From Peter.

Fuck it. Peter steadies his breathing and goes to wrap his pinky around your index.

Just as his finger starts to brush against yours, you move your hand, running digits through your hair.

Peter curls and uncurls his fingers by his side.

"Ugh, this heatwave is fucking ridiculous," you hum, holding your hair into a temporary ponytail. Smiling at the boy.

To Peter Parker, you are the most stunning woman he's ever seen. And this moment encompasses that completely. Flyaway hairs framing your face, chest glowing from sweat, cheeks flushed from the heat, and smile beaming.

If only he could grow a pair and hold your hand.

"Yeah, tell me about it. The air conditioning in my apartment's broken. It's just me, a lonely fan, and a lot of open windows," he smiles at you, nervous of talking too much.

You can't help but feel your chest flutter every time he gives you that bashful smile. Something in the way his cheeks change color and his eyes dart around awkwardly keeping your heart pounding.

"Well. Anytime you feel yourself getting too hot, you can always come over," you wink and waltz into a nearby store, holding the door for him.

Peter feels his hands begin to shake, the temperature in his body rising and he suspects it's not from the weather. He follows you in.

You bounce around the shop happily, picking up the mini glass figures and examining each one, showing them all to Peter.

He gazes at you with a content smile on his face. He could get used to this.

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

The hours come and go, but as five-o'clock draws near you and Peter begin to make your way towards the aforementioned sushi restaurant.

You step in and are in immediate awe. Neon red led's light up the dim rooms. Candles flicker on each table, illuminating the accompanying roses. The clack of your shoes reverberates off the black marble floor and falls in time with the soft jazz flowing through the building.

"Oh wow..." you breathe.

Peter walks behind you with a smug grin on his face. He aimed to impress you with this place. It seems he hit the bullseye.

"How many?" A very well dressed, middle aged woman asks, smiling.

"Just two." Peter answers.

"Follow me." The lady turns the corner after grabbing two menus.

After being sat and ordering drinks, Peter goes to look at his menu. You kick him (lightly) from under the table.

He jumps. "Ah! What was that for?!"

"You didn't tell me how nice this place was gonna be!" You whisper rather sharply.

"Well, I wanted to impress you. And make up for everything," Peter smiles.

"You can do all that without letting me dress like a slob to go to a place like this!"

"I think you look beautiful." Peter blurts. Eyes wide, face red.

"Oh." Your voice is just above a whisper. "Well.. uh, thank you," you smile at him and his whole world lights up.

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

You exit the front doors of the restaurant, cold night air stinging your lungs.

"That was amazing, Peter. thank you so much," you stuff your hands into your pockets.

"Of course! I had to make everything up to you," he smiles down at you. Again, having the same battle of brain and heart over holding your hand, both of which being pushed further into your pockets.

"We definitely have to do this again," you begin to cross the street, assuming Peter follows behind you.

"Hey! y/n! Wait!" Peter's scared tone stops you in your tracks in the street as you turn to look at him.

"wha--" you hear a horn and can barely distinguish headlights from beside you before a pair of warm, rather strong, arms are embracing you - holding you an equally as strong body.

Your chest goes numb with adrenaline, face heating up from the proximity of Peter's face to yours.

"Oh my god. Are you okay?" His breath is heavy, warm chest pushing into yours and heart pounding.

"Uh... yeah... are you?"

"I'm fine. I think my ankle is bruised from the fall but it's alright, as long as you're okay."

Your chest continues fluttering but no longer from fear. The way Peter just smiled at you could light the whole world up.

"Here," you stand up, offering the boy a hand. "Let's go back to my place and assess the damage."

Peter takes your hand, following you back home.

You turn to him. "Thank you, by the way. You totally just saved my life."

⏪︎ peter's pov ⏪︎

Peter smiled, holding the door open as you exit the restaurant. He'd had such a great day with you so far, though he worried at every point he would make a wrong move and mess everything up.

He didn't.

"That was amazing, Peter. thank you so much."

This is it. Peter thinks. My best possible chance to grab her hand.

You stuff your hands into your pockets.

Shit.

"Of course! I had to make everything up to you," Peter smiles down at you.

"We definitely have to do this again."

Peter watches you step down from the sidewalk and onto the asphalt. His head snaps to the left, seeing headlights. A car. Moving fast. Right for you.

His whole body goes numb, heart pounding.

"Hey! y/n! Wait!"

You turn, freezing.

Peter feels a build of anxiety from his toes to his head. You're not moving.

The hairs on his arms stand up, and he's moving before his thoughts can catch up. And everything feels like it's in slow motion.

He lunges, wrapping his arms around you, pulling both of you back towards the sidewalk. Peter's ankle twists and he lands, back thudding against the pavement, holding you snug against him.

His breath is harsh.

"Oh my god. Are you okay?" Peter can feel your hearts pounding in the same, fear-driven tempo.

"Uh... yeah... are you?" Your eyes search his.

"I'm fine. I think my ankle is bruised from the fall but it's alright, as long as you're okay." And he means it.

"Here," you stand up, offering the him a hand. "Let's go back to my place and assess the damage."

Peter gladly takes your hand, also taking note of the smoothness, and the gentle way you lead him. He feels warmth slowly spread down his back, realizing his ankle might not be the only injury he sustained.

"Thank you, by the way. You totally just saved my life."

likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs are the desire. Remember they do more for authors and tumblrs than a like ever could.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hii! Let me start by saying I've binged most of your Tangerine and Pietro's works and I absolutely loved it 🤌🏻

If you're still accepting requests, could you write for fwb! Tangerine, after you told him that you should be just friends (bc of what he does for a living) but eventually cave in when he gets back from a mission? (mix of smut and fluff if possible).

Thank you <3

hii angel!! tehe yes ive seen you around, and tysm☹️okay I really love this !! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

MEET IN THE MIDDLE

tangerine x female reader

wc. 1107

cw. 18+ only!! spoiler alert but he tears readers clothing bc he's a desperate horny mess and it's hot as shit, unprepped and unprotected sex, pinv. mdni

Since you put a cool on your contractual relationship with Tangerine a month ago, you've delved back into that state of solemn longing. Putting an end to many months' worth of great sex wasn't easy - it really wasn't, and as much as you started to fall for the guy, you just couldn't seem to get over what he did for a living. 

No matter how much you pushed down that feeling of unease, you could not get past it.  

That was until ten days ago, when he texted you on a random tuesday, telling you he was leaving for work to South Africa, seeing if you wanted to meet when he returns. Since that text, he's been your every thought - every notion in your mind. 

The idea of him leaving for a dangerous job abroad struck panic and dread within you - the thought of him getting hurt without him knowing how much you really felt about him was something you could not bear to stomach.

After that text, you've been counting off the days until you could see him again, waiting until you get that confirmation he's okay and safe. 

It was finally the day Tangerine returns home from his trip, and it was singularly the only day of happiness you felt since calling things off. You both occasionally texted while he was away, only conversing when he had time to spare, talking about the plan for when he comes back. You settled on your place; he would go home, clean himself up and pop by yours for a casual, friendly night in - like old times.

Your door knocks in that familiar pattern you've grown to know so well, and you immediately rush to answer it - a bright smile as you peek through the gap, looking at Tangerine on the other side with a grin as sincere as yours.

"Oh my god," you gush, instantly wrapping him in a tight hug. You pull away, awkward eyes diverting from his awe-filled ones. "Sorry, sorry— that was too much. It's just..." you breathe, meeting his gaze. "Really good to see you."

"I missed you," he admits, speaking confidently. "But... didn't think you'd actually wanna see me."

Your smile resurfaces, and you pause. That wasn't true - you couldn't wait to see Tangerine again. 

Since you had time to call down during the time apart, you've grown to realise that his job didn't define him as a person and that, at the core of it, it doesn't really matter. He isn't some abhorrent, abusive mercenary - he is someone who loves and cares deeply, someone who is sweet and thoughtful, no matter how hard they pretend they're not.

"Bull," you joke, sweet eyes staying glued to his - like they were taking him all in, seeing him in the flesh for the first time again. "That's not true."

He steps into your house and kicks off his shoes, making himself at home. "No?"

"No," you shake your head, soft yet stern movements as you move to close the door behind him. "Not at all."

You turn around to meet him, though now, he's closed the gap between you by a foot, standing in front of you with his hands itching up towards you, making tentative movements to the sides of your face. 

His gaze remains lidded as he places his palms over either cheek, cupping you in his hands. "You mean that?"

You nod in his hold, murmuring your agreement - far too concerned about the weak sound you'd make if you spoke. 

"Yeah?" he weakly smiles, slowly leaning in towards you. 

"Yeah," you repeat, meeting him in the middle for a kiss, melting into the soft and sweet contact you've since longed for. 

He parts -barely- whispering against your lips. "Good."

His grip on your face firms as he brings you back in, kissing you more urgently this time, as if that little peck wasn't enough to satiate the need. It grows carnal, more desperate - hungrily kissing as he pushes you up against the front door. 

Your hands roam him ever so familiarly, trailing over his stubbly jaw as you hold him to you - keeping him close. You murmur a faint moan into his mouth as you feel him chub up against you, his hardening cock prodding at your lower stomach through his lounge shorts.

"Fuck," he muffles roughly between your lips, slipping a hand behind your neck - fist tightening at the root. 

"Been so long," you whisper, your voice weak as you catch your breath between breaks.

"Too fuckin' long," he adds.

He peels you from the door and walks you backwards into your living room - guiding you to the sofa within his sure hold. He keeps his lips glued to yours as he lays you down on the cushion, hovering atop as he situates himself between your spread thighs.

"Do you like these?" he asks, tugging on your pyjama bottoms.

"Yeah," you hum, snaking your hand between yourselves - reaching for his waistband.

"Alright, I'll buy'ya a new pair," he replies, voice hoarse as he slips himself from your tight grasp, sitting up on his heels. 

He places both large hands between your thighs, meeting at your crotch as he tears a hole in the fabric - giving him perfect access to your pussy.

The motion catches you by surprise, sending a deep shiver down your spine as you peek down between your thighs - seeing the frayed material right by your cunt, looking at the consequence of his desperation. 

Your chest rises and falls heavily, intense, short breaths as you peer up at him, eyes flickering over him in a way that mirrors his own. 

He slides his hand down the front of his shorts, delving into his boxers as he pulls his dick out the waistband, rolling over his length in his palm. His grip slips down to the head of his cock, thumb resting on the upperside as he guides himself towards you - parting your underwear aside with his spare hand. He slowly eases his tip into you, savouring that first initial fluttering stretch of your unprepped pussy, relishing the feeling of you needily swallowing more of him.

He strips from his hoodie and throws it aside, leaning back over you so his chest is flush up against you, hands instinctively cupping your face as he peppers your jaw in quick kisses. 

 "Fuck— I missed you," he murmurs as he slowly begins to roll his hips into you, grinding into you with easy, gentle strokes.

You guys have a lot to catch up on. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[a-casual-kpopfan]

Day Off - Jiwon

A/N: I've been really vibing with these little short stories. This did not go through any editting at all, hope you all enjoy. <3

~~~~~~~~~~

*Ring*… *Ring*… *Ring*

And there it is, the dreaded iPhone alarm. This alarm is what gives all high school and college students nightmares, then coming with them into adulthood, the alarm becomes a part of a person throughout the rest of their lives.

*Ring*… *Ring*… *Ring*

You wake up from what was your splendid slumber to that accursed alarm, but there’s one good thing about this alarm.

“UGH!”

It’s not yours.

You hear a woman groaning, following with a hand slapping down to a nightstand next to your bed and the alarm ends. You stay laying in your bed, facing the edge of it while you feel movement on the other side, you chuckle as you stay relaxed. As the movement gets closer towards you, a hand lands on your shoulder, gripping you slowly then suddenly a body is now on top of you.

“O-ppa.”

Your ear was filled with her voice, she’s now wide awake which means you’re wide awake. “Yes, honey?” Your voice was groggy, it was a low tone, your throat felt a strong vibration once you spoke. “It’s time to wakey, wakey…” She whispers into your ear, then begins leaving a trail of kisses from the farthest end of your cheek, making a slow way to your lips.

“Baby, you know it’s your day off.” You turn yourself slowly while she’s keeping her position on top of you; now facing frontwards, you see what is the cutest thing to wake up to in the morning. Jiwon’s hair messy and all over the place, her lips are pouting right at you. “I know oppa, but I don’t want to waste the day.” Jiwon lays belly first on top of you, nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes.

“You know, you have the prettiest eyes.” Her eyes are an extremely dark brown, the black pupil blending in perfectly with the colours of her corneas. “Do I have prettier eyes than Heoni?” Jiwon’s pout grows bigger, you remember the last time you saw all the members, you had answered that their maknae Jiheon had the prettiest eyes, Jiwon hasn’t let you off the hook for that.

“You always had prettier eyes than her baby.” You move your nose away from hers, losing contact but instead you kiss the tip of her nose, which in turn converts her lips from a pout to a smile, cheeks lighting up like a fire. “Good!” Giggles fill the room, Jiwon now sitting up on top of you full straddle, she covers both her cheeks and just smiles at you. “I should be the only one you look at!” Her voice has always been quite loud, bed talk is no different, Park Jiwon is definitely the loudest member from her group, Saerom has told you horror stories about it.

“What do you want to do today baby?” You continue looking up to your girlfriend who’s just casually sitting on top of you, pretending to think, but you got a feeling she already knew how to start today. She looks at you as if she’s wants… No… needs something, something she hasn’t had for a long time. “Baby… We just woke up…”

Jiwon lips become loose again; her tongue moistens her bottom lip. “Then let me…” Jiwon slowly disappeared under the blanket that you two shared. “Baby, w-wait!”

No stopping now…

~~~~~

The sounds of sizzles and the smells of scrambled eggs fill your apartment’s small kitchen, the table was filled with a bowl of rice, sauteed gai-lan with garlic, a large grilled pork belly. Since waking up, both you and Jiwon were… Occupied throughout most of the morning, you decided to make a full lunch instead to regain energy.

Jiwon wearing only one of your t-shirts, a pair of underwear and an apron, you on the other hand wearing a pair of your old college basketball shorts and a baggy sweatshirt, not worried about the oils possibly spraying on your clothes or the smell being stuck to your clothing. “Mmm, everything is smelling great oppa.” Jiwon enjoying the time cooking with you in the kitchen, it’s been so long since the two of you spent quality time together.

Jiwon has shut off the stove, pouring over the eggs into a bowl and handing it off to you. “All doooone!” Her voice is soothing for you; you miss her presence whenever she goes on tour or is practicing for a comeback, with the time today, you want to enjoy what time you have left before she leaves again.

Lunch is all set, placing the bowl of eggs on the table while Jiwon makes her way to the table with a small container of kimchi. You watch your girlfriend take off the apron, you couldn’t help but watch Jiwon set the apron on the wall, with her t-shirt flaring up exposing the pink frilled underwear. “Hey, you perv, you’d think I wouldn’t know you would look?” You up from looking at Jiwon’s little tush to her face directed right at you.

Caught red handed, although you were not flustered one bit, this being typical behaviour while the two of you finally have alone time. “It’s not my fault that my girlfriend is a sexy idol.” Smirking at her, which was met with a smirk of her own, walking slowly towards you. You watched her as she moved step by step, each thigh coming after another, you just kept watching Jiwon get closer, passing by her designated chair.

She pulls the chair you’re sitting in out, with you on it. “Damn, have you gotten stronger?” Jiwon lifts her t-shirt, showing off her mid, slapping it confidently that her mid has become solid as a rock. “You did get a good look at them earlier, didn’t you?” A big smile was on her face, you chuckle. “Well sorry baby, I was… Distracted…” While giggling Jiwon props herself to sit on you, both legs hanging off one side, arm around you neck, she draws a finger along your jaw.

“Should we have our meal?” You smiled and leaned forward to meet your lover’s lips halfway.

~~~~~

“Look honey, they have a Takoyaki stand!” Jiwon points with her finger poking out slightly in a glove, over to a busy stand, smoke and steam coming out for a little cart with quite a line up. “It’s been a while since I had som-” You look to where your girlfriend was, but in typical Jiwon fashion, she’s disappeared away from your side only to see her lined up for the Takoyaki. “Honey, over here!” You see a small figure sticking out their arm, with a hand covered by a glove, of course it’s Jiwon lining up for food.

You couldn’t help but smile as you walk over to her lining up with her, shortly joining her, the wait time for the line was terribly long. In normal circumstances, you wouldn’t attempt to wait in a line like this, preferably going somewhere else for food, but this isn’t normal circumstance.

You waited patiently; the line moves ever so slowly. The cold was creeping up your body, but it seems as though Jiwon wasn’t feeling cold Fall breeze. “Are you not cold baby?” You put your hands inside your jacket while your girlfriend wraps her hands around one of your arms while the two of you wait for the line to move.

The line is slow going, but your patience has paid off as both you and Jiwon had gotten a fresh portion of Takoyaki, you were amazed about how great the food smelt. The cart didn't look different than the others that you've seen, you look over to Jiwon who's holding her own little paper bowl of Takoyaki. You can see in her eyes how ready she is to devour it; you almost feel bad for the octopus that was harvested to make this. You pull your girlfriend to the side of the cart to some small tables for customers to eat their purchases at the market.

"Look oppa, the bonito flakes are still moving!" Jiwon looks so cheerful; you almost feel like you're going to fall in love with her all over again. "Baby, did I ever mention that you're the cutest thing that lever seen?" Your lover is suddenly flustered. Putting down the little bowl on the table, then following up to cover her face to hide her now even more pinker cheeks from the blushing. “Aish, why do you have to embarrass me now? In public too!”

After getting settled at your little table, Jiwon picked up a piece with a toothpick given at the cart. “Baby, wouldn’t it be too hot to eat?” You try to warn her while you’re trying to open a little hole with your toothpick, but before you knew it, you hear muffled scream.

“MMMMM!” You already knew it were to happen, you didn’t even have to look over to what sounds to be a little Jiwon steaming hot fumes from her mouth. You calmly open up a water bottle and handed it over to her, which she grabbed in a furious manner. “I tried to warn you baby.” You take a small bite out of your takoyaki, thankfully it was cooled down enough to safely eat in peace.

After knowing that your portion was cool enough to eat, you switched yours with Jiwon’s. “Wait, but that means you have to wait for them to cool again.” You watched your girlfriend pout, but you didn’t care. “It’s okay baby, you can eat first. Waiting isn’t a problem.” You kissed her forehead, turning that pout into a smile.

You watch Jiwon eating the food a little bit more cautiously while you create small holes to let the hot air out of yours.

Seeing your girlfriend happy was always the priority.

~~~~~

“Okay… Grand Prix mode… 200cc… You ready to get your ass kicked?” Jiwon gets herself set, sitting down next to you. Trying to keep your composure, you compare your made kart with Jiwon’s, you’re using King Boo while she chooses Rosalina. You knew she was trying to match your weight class so you wouldn’t abuse her off the track.

“Okay, let’s start!”

You and Jiwon get quite competitive when someone suggests to turn on the Switch and run some Mario Kart, usually it would be Jiwon’s idea.

A few tracks went by, she placed 1st place in the first track, but you followed up in the second track, after the third track both you and Jiwon are tied for 1st place, coming down to a winner takes all fourth race.

“You may have kept up this long, but I’m going to win!” You look over to your left, Jiwon leaned forward, glasses tipping slightly at the tip of her nose, tongue sticking out while slightly biting on it with her teeth. She’s dressed in sweats, her hair is tied up in a bun, she couldn’t look anymore differently when she’s up on stage, but then again, this is the Jiwon that you fell in love with.

After a fight of bananas and red shells flying everywhere, an untimely blue shell had taken you out of your 1st place ranking.

“I WON!”

Your girlfriend is jumping up and down for joy, after a tough long battle, she was the one who came out victorious coming away with the golden trophy. “Yah, if that blue shell wasn’t launched, I would’ve won!” You try to defend yourself for losing, you were first for majority of the race, but not long enough.

After a minute of cheering, Jiwon lets out a long and strong yawn.

You smiled, turning off the switch with your controller and setting the controller on the side. “Come on baby, I think today is coming to an end.” Standing up from the couch, moving towards you the cheerful winner, you wrapped your arms around her waist, engulfing her in a hug. “But I don’t want to go back to work…” The energy in this woman disappeared in an instant, like the game zapped her of any remaining energy.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll have another day off together and we’ll do more together, okay?”

Jiwon hugs you, putting her face into your chest, then looking up with a pout. You couldn’t stop yourself from continuing to fall in love with her more, kissing her lips in that pout.

Pulling away from her, the pout has converted to a smile, accompanied by pink cheeks.

“Okay.”

“I’m beating you next time.” Jiwon would only giggle while the two of you walked over to the bedroom ending what seemed to be a good day off.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You wash away the tang of the barbeque sauce with the wine. In your nervousness, you lost track of how much you’ve drank. Even as you eat, with nothing much to say, he watches you. Walter’s intensity is as roiling as the waves that rippled off the grill. 

He’s on his second can of beer but hardly seems affected. You think it’s not as strong as wine. You look at your glass and the last mouthful. 

“Don’t wanna waste it,” he leans forward and winks. 

“Oh, uh,” you gulp then put the crystal to your lips. You force yourself to swallow the last little bit. 

He stands, causing you to wince. He chuckles as he grabs the wine bottle and uncaps it. You watch him with wide eyes. 

“You’re so jumpy, relax,” he purrs as he fills your glass again. You watch the blush liquid with dread. “That lawyer idiot’s got you on edge.” 

“It isn’t...” you chew your lip and look away, “I think I’ve had enough.” 

“Bah, we’re just getting started,” he winks and plunks the bottle back down, “I’m gonna grab another beer.” 

“Right,” you agree without further protests. 

You sit back and pout into the glass. You want to go but he’s completely correct. Andy has you all twisted up and out of sorts. You can’t go back there. Not yet. You’re stuck here. Walter is every bit as intense as your brother-in-law just in a very different way.  

You stare up at the sky. It’s getting dark. You really don’t want to walk home drunk and you can feel your eyes getting foggy. You feel a bit jittery but that could just be the usual. Unthinkingly, you take a swig to soothe yourself. You see how it can be so dangerous to drink. 

The screen door snaps again and Walter reappears. Your eyes round and flick back up to the sky as you see him. Oh. 

He wears only a pair of short grey-blue swim trunks, thought they look more like boxers. They’re short enough that the muscles of his thighs are on displayed in thick cords and the hair along them stands stark against his skin. He is thick all over. The peek of the dark hair the trails from chest to pelvis stains your mind. Don’t think about that. 

You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“Come on, let’s have some fun. You know, the hot tub is actually a great way to cool off,” he cracks the tab on the can in his hand, “or spice things up. Whatever you want.” 

You turn the stemmed glass and fidget, “I’m good.” 

“Don’t make me drag you,” he kids. “You ever have fun or do you just sit in the dark and listen to grunge?” 

Your eyes dart up to him as hurt creases around your lips. He sounds like Andy. He thinks you’re pathetic too. 

“Look,” he lets out a long breath, “I’m pulling your chain, tryna loosin’ you up. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just... you could use a hot soak. I can see the tension in your shoulders. They’re almost touching your ears.” 

You drop your shoulders decisively. He’s not lying. You’re so rigid, you’re quivering. It might be nice if you were alone. 

“Well, you get that wine down and come join me when you’re ready.” He nears and you shy away. He taps the side of his can against your glass, “cheers.” 

He takes another dip gulp and turns away. He strides off, tramping down the steps, as you watch the muscles in his back. If he wanted to put you in the tub himself, you’re certain he could. You’re a guest and you don’t want to be rude. Even to him. 

You blow out between your lips and tamp down the last of your worry. If you clench your jaw any tighter, your teeth might just break. You’re tired of the stress, of the tension, of the constant self-hatred. If the wine can make you forget all that, it can’t be that bad. 

You nearly gag as you choke down the rose. You hold back a belch and stand, finding yourself off-balance as you get to your feet. You shake your head and grab the bottle of wine. You leave the glass on the table. 

You come down the steps as Walter sighs and leans his head back, his arms stretched around the side of the hot tub. His eyes are closed as he basks in the cooling air. You walk as the wine sloshes noisily in the glass. You see his can sticking out of a cup holder built into the trim. You find another and plunk the wine into it. 

You back up and stare at the tub, contemplating. You look down then up again. His eyes are open as he reaches for his beer and watches you. You tap your fingers against your thighs. 

“Well?” He raises his brows. 

“Um,” you swallow. 

You turn away so you don’t have to look at him. You’re really going to do this. It’s no different than a swim suit, right? You pull of your tee shirt and reveal your cotton bra. You fold it up and leave it on the folding table near the tub. You take your time untying your converse and peeling off your socks. 

You stand again and undo your thigh, the noise of the jets droning in your ears. You push your pants down and hear a low noise. You step out of the denim and face Walter as he tilts his head, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

“Looking good,” he purrs. 

You cross your arms over your stomach and put your head down. You approach the edge of the tub and quickly climb over the side. You ease in opposite him and he clucks. He shifts to claim the seat next to you. You turn your attention to the sky. 

“Don’t gotta be shy,” he reaches past you, leaning close, and grabs the wine, “come on.” 

You eye the bottle and take it from him. You drink from the long neck and pop your lips off. You twist up your mouth and put it back. The heat is not helping. You vision is ringed and fuzzy and your body feels loose. 

“You good?” He rubs your shoulder, his hand hotter than the water. You blink and look over at his touch. 

“Think so,” you choke out. 

“Mm,” his thumb rubs circles into your skin, “you really are built nicely.” 

“Um,” you close your eyes and steady yourself, “thanks... I guess...” you remember the smell of wood chips and feel hands around your hips, the saw buzzes loudly. Your eyes snap open as he tickles along your neck, “I don’t feel too good.” 

“Gotta let the wine settle,” he purrs and leans down to kiss your shoulder as his hand creeps up the back of your neck. “You’re good.” 

“Uh huh,” your eyes roll in your head as your skin speckles with hot and cold. His beard tickles along your collar bone as his curls brush your face, “what--” 

He grips your neck and buries his face in your chest. You gasp and jolt in the water but find your limbs heavily and clumsy. You press your hands to the plastic grooves to keep from slipping as he brings his other hand up to cup one side of your chest. 

“Walter?” You croak. 

“Mmm, it’s alright, baby,” he speaks against your skin, “I’ll treat you right,” he hooks his fingers under the band of your bra, tugging until one side of your chest falls free, “you just relax.” 

[chestersturniolo]

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

fratboy!chris x fem!reader

part five

All parts linked here

Warnings; none

••••••••••

~MONDAY~

Monday morning came too quickly. You sit at your vanity, carefully applying your makeup as the events of the weekend play in your mind like a reel you can’t quite shut off. You hadn’t expected things to unfold the way they did. As you apply the last coat of mascara, the nerves start to creep in. Would it be awkward? Your heart races at the thought of seeing him again.

~

As you make your way through campus, the energy feels extremely off. Eyes seem to follow you. At first, you brush it off as paranoia. But then, the whispers started—soft at first, but then louder. You hear snickers and catch stares that are quickly averted when you pass. Your stomach tightens, and you keep your head down, trying to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

But the murmurs refuse to be ignored. You hear your name. And his.

Your heart drops, your mind racing. How could word have gotten out so fast? How could word have gotten out period? Did he tell people? Panic gnaws at your chest as you replay the night over and over in your head. Then it hits you—the frat brother you passed as you slipped out of Chris’s house last night. His smirk. The way he looked at you. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but now… 

“Fuck” you mutter under your breath, dread creeping in.

You walk faster, hoping to escape the eyes and the rumors swirling around you, but no matter where you go, the whispers follow. They grow louder, more insistent. By the time you make it to your first class, you can barely focus. Bits of conversations float toward you, just loud enough to hear. The rumours say you were desperate, that you threw yourself at Chris. Others claim you made the whole thing up for attention.

When your first class was over, you headed straight for the bathroom. Locking yourself in a stall. Thankfully it’s empty, with nothing but peaceful silence filling the air. 

~

After killing as much time as you could pulling yourself together in the bathroom, you take a few deep breaths before heading out into the hallway. You let out a sigh of relief to see they’re practically empty. Pulling your phone out to glance at the time, you realise you’re running late for your next lecture. Great. You roll your eyes, shoving your phone into your back pocket.

Your footsteps echo lightly as you make your way down the corridor. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, you stop in your tracks at the sound of voices—one of them familiar. Chris.

Your heart skips a beat as you freeze, staying just out of sight, listening. One of his friends presses him, his tone curious but insistent.

“Yo, Chris, is it true? I heard you hooked up with her at our party. People been talkin man”

Your stomach twisted, as you held your breath. You could feel your heart pounding, every beat a reminder that you shouldn’t be standing there, but you couldn’t move. You needed to hear what he’d say next.

There was a pause, and then Chris scoffed, the sound bitter, dismissive. “Me? With her?” he said, a dry chuckle following. “You really think I’d mess around with that chick? C’mon bruh, I’d never go that low” 

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your chest tightened as your throat started closing, standing there in pure shock. Tears started welling up in your eyes, blurring your vision as the shock twisted into something hotter—anger.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your body moved on its own, fueled by the surge of emotion. Your feet pounded against the floor as you charged around the corner, heart racing.

"Why are you doing this?!" You blurt out,voice trembling with emotion.

Chris’ head snapped up, surprised to see you standing there. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe? recognition? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold blank expression.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about” he said, shrugging as if the whole thing was beneath him.

You rolled your eyes, the tears spilling over now. You felt exposed, embarrassed, vulnerable in front of him and his friends. How could he stand there and act like nothing had happened? Like you were nothing. 

His friends exchanged glances, snickering amongst themselves, but Chris’s expression faltered slightly as he watched the tears flood down your cheeks. For a brief moment, his eyes softened, just like they had that night. He glanced around, his friends eyes fixed on him. He quickly clears his throat, his face returning to its cold state. 

“Look, it’s not—”

“Don’t even try-” you cut him off.

“-you think acting like this makes you look tough? It doesn’t. It just makes you a coward. You don’t get to sleep with me one night and then act like I’m nothing the next. What’s your problem?!”

Chris tried to interject, but you didn’t give him the chance. “You’re just another insecure guy who cares more about what his friends think than how he treats people. So next time you try to act like you’re better than me, take a long look in the fucking mirror Chris!” you shout, voice cracking. 

With that, you turn around and stormed away from him. Tears now streaming uncontrollably.

Behind you , Chris’ friends couldn’t control their laughter.

“Damnnnnn you just got schooled bro!” one of them jeered , amusement in his voice.

“Man she put you in your place huh?” another laughed. 

You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to. The sound of their teasing and Chris’ uncomfortable silence was enough. You kept walking, as fast as you could. You needed to get out.

You quickly decided there was no way in hell you could face the rest of your classes that day. The thought of running into Chris again, hearing his voice, or dealing with the whispers and glares from the whole campus was too much to bare. 

•••••••••••••

MASTERLIST

taglist;

@sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom

[vodika-vibes]

Hello, love your stories and I saw the alpha fic you wrote recently. It’s funny that someone asked something similar to what I was thinking for Gregor. I’ve never requested a story before but here goes. Would you write a sweet (spicy if you’d like) story about Gregors recovery and the person who helped him. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a nurse. Maybe it can be someone he meets as he’s recovering someone who he learns some cooking tips from. I dunno cover all the bases if you like or not ?

Thank you .

I'm Still Here

Summary: A large part of you dreads the day that Gregor regains his memory and he leaves. You’re not stupid. Or blind. You know he’s a clone. You know he’s going to leave. But for now, you don’t have to share him with the galaxy, and that will have to be enough.

Pairing: Captain Gregor x F!Reader

Word Count: 1611

Warnings: None

A/N: I'm not sure I managed to fill this the way that you asked, but I hope you like it anyway!

“I don’t think I’m doing this right,”

You stop kneading the dough that you’re working on to look over your shoulder at the man standing at the counter on the other side of your kitchen, “What’s wrong?”

Gregor glances at you and makes a face, “I don’t think this soup is supposed to be so runny.”

You release a thoughtful hum and set the dough back in the bowl to rise for a couple more hours, and then you wipe your hands on the rag hanging from your belt.

“Well, it does need to simmer for the rest of the afternoon,” You point out as you walk over to him and duck under his arm to peek into the pot, “It should thicken as it simmers.”

“Should?”

“Don’t worry so much, Gregor. You’re doing great!” You beam up at him, and you watch, amused, as color spreads across his cheeks and he averts his gaze. You almost want to coo at him, but you don’t actually want to embarrass him so you restrain yourself.

“I just don’t want to ruin this,” He says, “They’re your family.”

“They’re going to think you’re great, Gregor. Just like I do.”

“I don’t think most people in the galaxy are as kind as you are,” He counters dryly.

“Nonsense, people are inherently good.”

You can feel Gregor staring at you, and then you squeak in surprise when his strong arm slides around your shoulders, tugging you back against his chest, “That hasn’t been my experience.” He replies, and his arm tightens, “I worry about you, you know that?”

“How so?”

“People are going to take advantage of you. You’re too nice.”

You twist in his embrace and grin up at him, “Good thing I have you here to be mean for me.”

He laughs and releases you so he can set the lid on the pot, and you absently turn the heat down a little. Gregor’s smile is warm and focused on you, and it makes you feel a little warm.

But then, you’ve been crushing on him since the day you met him. You’d be more surprised if his smile didn’t make you feel like this.

“So, are we all set?” Gregor asks.

“Um…” You run down your mental checklist, and then you nod, “Yep. All set. Soup is cooking, dough is rising, veggies are marinating, and you’re here! All that’s left is to put everything together and wait for my parents to arrive.”

He pushes his hand through his hair, “What if they hate me?”

“Then they can go and eat dinner somewhere else.” You reply loftily as if it doesn’t matter. In truth, it’s hit or miss on whether they’ll like Gregor or not. Your father has always hated the people you introduced to him, and your mother would always go along with what he did.

And him being a clone won’t even have anything to do with why they’d hate him.

Your parents have always been funny about controlling the people you surround yourself with.

Needless to say, you had a very lonely childhood.

“That easy?” Gregor asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“That easy.” You agree, and then you grin at him, “And you remembered the whole recipe on your own.”

He looks surprised for a moment, and then a bright smile crosses his face, “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

“That’s a huge step, Gregor!”

The brain injury he sustained, somehow, messed with his memory pretty badly. He’s been working on it for months now, and his doctor suggested that cooking might be a way to help his rehab.

Honestly, you thought that his doctor was a quack, but since it seems to be helping, you’re beginning to reevaluate your opinion of him. 

Though, you still think that not telling him that he’s a Clone is a shitty thing to do to someone. Surely Gregor deserves to know that he has an army of brothers out there?

But, even thinking that, you still haven’t told him. 

Oh, you’ve come close a time or two. But when he learns the truth, he’ll leave.

And he’s the only friend you’ve ever had.

You’re pulled from your spiraling thoughts at the sound of your comm ringing. You reach into your pocket to grab it, only it’s not there. Quickly, you scan the kitchen and then step into your living room.

Your comm is sitting on the table in front of the holo, and it’s still ringing.

You grab the comm and press it to your ear, and the person on the other end speaks before you’re even able to say hello. “It’s about time you answered.”

“I—”

“Not important. Listen, your father and I aren’t going to make it to dinner.”

“You—” Once again, you’re cut off.

“To be honest, darling, we don’t want to come. Also, we’re moving to Alderaan.”

“Wait—”

“We’re leaving in an hour, and you know how much I hate long goodbyes. Alright! Good talk! Bye, darling!” And then she hangs up.

You try calling her back, but she clearly turned her comm off after getting off the call with you.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips, and you drop your comm back on the table.

“Well, that was a conversation.” Gregor says from the doorway to the kitchen, “Everything alright?”

“...my parents aren’t coming.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s…” Your shoulders slump, “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have expected them to come in the first place.”

“They’re your parents. It’s alright to expect them to want to know the people in your life.” He flashes an awkward smile at you, “Besides, it’s not like I have any family that I know of.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you try to swallow your guilt, but this time you can’t.

“I…Gregor…”

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“You do have family.”

He blinks at you, “What?”

“I just…I…” You grab your datapad and pull open a recent article surrounding the clone army, and you pass it to him, “You’re a Clone, Gregor. I knew it as soon as I saw you.”

He scans the article, and then scrolls to look at the picture at the top of the article, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re doctor—” You pause and then you close your eyes and sigh, “No, that’s an easy answer. The truth is, you’re the only friend I have and I knew that if you knew that you had family you’d leave. I was being…selfish. As per usual.”

Gregor is quiet for a moment, “Do you know where my armor is?”

“I don’t,” You admit honestly, “I wasn’t the one who found you. No one knows who found you.”

He frowns at you for a moment and then turns on his heel. You hear your front door open, and then the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. You fall back on your couch and bury your face in your hands.

You can’t even be mad about him leaving. It was exactly what you thought would happen when he found out.

You honestly don’t expect to see Gregor again, so when your doorbell rings right before you get into bed, you don’t know who you expect to see.

So you wrap your robe tightly around your body, and open the door just a crack.

You, very nearly, jump out of your skin when you see the man in armor standing in front of your door, though the fright turns to confusion when he pulls his helmet off and reveals a clean-shaven Gregor.

“Gregor?” You ask, bewildered.

“I found my armor.” Gregor replies, “Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh…yeah. Of course.” You move to the side to let him into your home and then shut the door behind him. “Where was it?”

“Oh, just laying around,” Gregor replies with a shrug as he starts pulling his armor off and stacking it near the front door.

You watch him, politely bewildered, and then finally ask, “What are you doing?”

He glances at you, confusion on his face, and then he favors you with a tiny smile, “Did you really think I was just going to leave?”

“...yes?”

“Not a chance.” He walks over to you and lightly cups your face, “Come on, how could I just leave you?”

“I lied to you.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I wasn’t in any condition to return to the frontlines anyway.” One of his hands slides to the back of your neck, and the other settles low on your hip, and he tugs you so that you stumble against his body.

“But—”

“I’m still here, cyare.” He interrupts, “And I’m not going anywhere until we settle this.”

“This?” You repeat, uncertainly.

Gregor giggles and his eyes glitter with mischief, “While I do have to return to the frontlines, I’m not leaving without giving you a night to remember.” He leans in and ghosts his lips against yours, “And I’ll definitely be coming back.”

“You…will?”

He doesn’t answer, instead, his grin widens and he closes the distance between your lips, pulling you into a deep kiss. “Well,” He mumbles against your lips, “That depends on you.” He moves so that his lips are trailing against your jaw, “I don’t think I was imagining the thing between us.”

“You weren’t,” You whisper, a soft gasp falling from you as his lips move to your throat.

“Good.”

And, when Gregor leaves the following morning, he leaves with the promise that he’ll come back as often as he’s able, several dark hickys, and a promise of his love.

He also leaves you pregnant, though you don’t figure that out until several months later.

@imabeautifulbutterfly @n0vqni @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @mira-loves-star-wars

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@falconfeather23435 @etod @bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

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