#and now i have all these thoughts and FEELINGS left over

[florencemtrash]

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now. 

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor. 

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep. 

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it. 

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object. 

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke. 

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence. 

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down. 

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes. 

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful. 

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home. 

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you. 

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter. 

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out. 

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.” 

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—” 

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant. 

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow. 

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.” 

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud. 

“Long day?” 

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.” 

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” 

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.” 

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop. 

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?” 

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers. 

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.” 

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.” 

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands. 

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.” 

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.” 

You blinked once. Twice. 

“Pardon?” 

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.” 

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.” 

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.” 

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon. 

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked. 

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.” 

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey. 

“What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.” 

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him. 

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses. 

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early. 

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs. 

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart. 

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz. 

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Do you feel safe with me?” 

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside. 

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.” 

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

[berryzxx]

Not yet

Azriel x reader

Summary: Your not ready to tell Azriel's family your mates in fear of them not liking you

note: It's just Az being the standard and the cutest shit ever. Also its pretty short im sorry lovelies <3

"I don't want to. Not yet" I murmured to Azriel, snuggling closer to his warmth. His hands ran up and down my back, sending small shivers down my spine.

"And why is that, sweetheart?" He replied, his voice slightly hoarse from having just woken up, pressing small kisses to my face. I opened my eyes and tried to get used to the light in the room. It was a Saturday, one of the days Azriel was content to just lie in bed with me with no commitments for the rest of the day.

"I just...I don't think they'll like me. I know it's stupid but I don't know them well enough. What if they think I'm using you or don't actually love you? What if they convince you that I'm not good enough?" I waited for him to say something. I didn't usually have anything bad to say against his family but I was never comfortable around new people. Especially if they were such important figures in our court. A slight sigh left his lips "Y/n. Do you really think I'd stop loving you if one of them told me to?...not that they would"

I sat up and tucked my hair behind my ear, his heat suddenly too much. "No but it's not just that. Imagine I say something wrong. I know their your family but their also high lord and lady. What if I say something...I don't know politically wrong? They'll laugh at me and think how in the world are us two mates."

Azriel moved his arm around my waist and pulled me back to lay down on the bed, his hand moving through my hair in a soothing motion. "They will think nothing of the sort because you are perfect. But if it makes you feel better we can wait for as long as you want. Feyre was talking about inviting the wonderful florist tomorrow. Accept her offer and get to know everyone a bit"

I thought about it and slowly nodded my head. "Fine."

Azriel was right because Feyre did invite me the next day.

"Y/n! Oh these are gorgeous! You've outdone yourself" Feyre said admiring the bouquet I had prepared

I smiled and handed her the card with all my business details "Thank you high lady. If anyone asks where you got them from please give them this."

"Feyre, please. No formalities between us"

I nodded my head "Feyre it is then"

She turned her attention to the rest of the shop looking around the flower filled store "You have such a peaceful life. Living amongst flowers and smelling like roses all the time"

I let out a small laugh. Very peaceful. Sometimes a little too peaceful. "I suppose. Although it get's boring at times"

Feyre's eyes lit up in excitement "You should come to dinner tonight! It'll be something different for you and we can get to know each other more"

I thought about what me and Azriel had discussed earlier. Now was the perfect opportunity, to meet his family. "Oh...I don't want to intrude. I don't know-"

She shook her head "Nonsense. Your coming tonight. Everyone will be scrambling over each other to get to know you"

I looked around the store, hoping for a sign as to what I should do. The only sign I could see however was the open sign on the front door.

"Fine. I'll come. Thank you the for the invite high- Feyre"

She beamed and gave me a quick hug, slightly surprising me before walking out with her bouquet of flowers. I sighed. Well I suppose I better go home and change so I looked slightly decent at least.

*Dinner, a few hours later*

Azriel cleared his throat slightly before continuing "Did you want something lov- y/n?"

I paused and clenched my jaw at the slip up. The chatter at the table was luckily loud enough for no one to quiet hear what he was saying. This was the first time I had been happy for Cassian's loud voice. I shook my head "I'll get it myself, thank you" I reached over and picked up the dish, adding a few potatoes to my plate, trying not to gather attention towards us two. Really. Azriel wasn't very good at following instructions. If someone had heard that I don't know what I would have done.

Probably jumped out a window or something.

"Everything alright?" Rhys asked looking over at me first, then Azriel and then me again. I nodded my head quickly and gave him a smile "Fine, everything's fine" Azriel didn't reply merely nodding in agreement too.

I let out a sigh of relief when he turned away and took a sip of his wine. Luckily dinner passed with no other accidents happening. I watched as everyone took their seats in the living room, Feyre and Rhys cuddled up on the couch while the others sprawled here and there, Elain having gone up because of a headache.

Azriel stood half hidden by his shadows in the door way, I could sense him even though I couldn't see him without squinting my eyes.

Come to the kitchen. It's important

His voice echoed in my mind, his deep and low voice making me miss him even though he was just inches away. I got up making an excuse of needing water and walked over to the kitchen, past the dining room where we had just sat. Before I could process what was happening I was against a wall and Azriel's lips were on mine, his shadows cocooning us in a dark and peaceful bubble. He kissed me like he was starving and he couldn't get enough.

We finally pulled apart my hands resting on his chest "Azriel" I warned him, the lust filled look in his eyes ready to devour me. His hands ran up and down my body, my waist, my hips warming each part of me.

"I want to tell them. I want to tell them about my perfect and beautiful mate." He whispered his eyes dark and his hair falling forward onto his forehead. I pushed a strand away "I can't right now. I'm not ready"

I knew even if I shook my head once Azriel would understand. His hopeful expression dropped slightly but his lips remained in a small smile "Let me take you home now, sweetheart. I can't live without having you close to me"

I rolled my eyes but smiled all the same "Don't be so dramatic"

He didn't reply, instead tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "We're going" He said finally and winnowed us on the spot. I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone but all thoughts left me as Azriel looked at me with his devilishly handsome grin.

ignore any mistakes <3

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@slut4acotar @cupidojenphrodite @artists-ally @thehighladywrites @claireswritingcorner

@milswrites @riddlesb1tch

[erwinsvow]

would rafe ever let reader wear his rings? idk that’s just so hot and i feel like rafe would be the type 😭

godd pussy started doing jumping jacks!! your brain>>

curled up next to rafe, still sweaty and sticky all over but not even close to tired, you trace patterns on his skin with your fingers. it's quiet in tannyhill except for the two of you breathing.

you thought rafe must be deep in thought the way he's gone so quiet, but when you look up from your position to see what he's doing or if, unsurprisingly, he's fallen asleep, you catch him staring right at you.

flustered, face warm, you press back against his chest, blinking fast. your fingers continue their path, now on his forearm, drawing little hearts and hoping he doesn't realize. you go further, all the way to his hand, and though you've been in this position a million times, do this or something similar almost every night, it feels different for some reason.

you run your fingers down the back of his land, looping around his fingers. they catch around his rings, and you move your own hand away when rafe stops you, grabbing your hand and keeping it in place.

"sorry," you let out quietly, wondering if he decided he didn't like the feeling. though you're still held in place against his body, you don't need to see him in order to know he's staring down at you, the way he always does, with the look that makes your heart thud so fast you can hear it in your ears.

"stop apologizin'," he murmurs, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. he keeps your hand next to his, and you can't help yourself, pressing your palm flat against his.

"your hands are big," you comment, liking the way the two of you are touching everywhere right now—legs entangled and palms together. he doesn't say anything, doesn't have to. rafe moves your hand, holding it next to his, using his other to slip his rings off.

without any words at all, he slips one of them, his golden signet, onto your ring finger. helplessly big, it falls down to the knuckle. if you move an inch, it would fall off. the other ring falls onto your index finger. you extend your hand, admiring how they look on you.

"too big, rafe," you say it with a laugh, not able to hold it back any longer.

"shit. lemme see." rafe takes your hand, holding it a little out and then closer. "jus' a little bit. looks good on you though."

"all your stuff looks good on me," you breathe out, suddenly feeling like there's no air left in your lungs. rafe just slipped his own ring onto your ring finger, your left ring finger. words and thoughts leave you, focused on nothing but rafe.

"that's right. don't worry, kid, i'll get you one that fits soon enough."

your heart beats even faster, realizing what he means. you smile up at him.

"i don't want a new one. i just want yours."

the next morning, there's a pretty chain and his golden ring waiting for you on the nightstand. both of you know that once you put it on, it's never coming off.

[gglitch1dd]

Oh my God! HE'S MOVING!

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Note: Pregnant reader, pregnant hormones, FLUFF

Izuku entered your shared home, taking off his shoes with a sigh. Fifteen minutes ago, you had woken him up asking him if he could get you ice-cream, specifically matcha green tea ice-cream. Why? He wasn't sure but he did know one thing, you were pregnant and if you wanted ice-cream, you were getting ice-cream. He shrugged off his jacket as he went to the kitchen. He scooped up a few generious scoops of ice-cream putting it in a bowl and getting you a spoon, before putting the ice-cream in the freezer.

He moved upstairs navigating through the dark, stifling a yawn. He had only managed to get three hours of sleep when you had asked for ice-cream, but at least he would be allowed a nice late morning with you once it was a more reasonable time of day.

"Babe." He called as he moved upstairs, heading towards your bedroom. "I got the ice-cream." He walked into the bedroom to see you were sitting up with a comforter pillow at your back. You turned to look at him, a plate of chicken wings sitting on your belly as you looked at him with tears in your eyes. You frowned when you saw him, tears falling from your eyes. "What's wrong, my love?" He asked as he walked over to you, putting down the bowl on his side of the bed.

You started crying as you put down the chicken wing you were eating. "I don't want the ice-cream anymore." You said deeply upset by your change in apetite. "I thought I would want it but now that I think about it, I feel sick. So I got chicken wings from the fridge but I didn't want to tell you cause you already left to go get me ice-cream."

Izuku's shoulders sagged as a smile went to his face, he held back a chuckle, knowing that laughing at you would result in him being subjected to sleep in the guest room... again. "Y/N." He moved over to you and opened his arms. "Do you need a hug?"

Despite you putting away the plate of chicken wings, you shook your head as you grabbed the on-standby tissues that were perched at your side of the bed, wiping your fingers and your face a bit

"Are you sure?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You looked at him again. More tears fell from your eyes as you felt a sob come out of you. You nodded your head as you leaned into your husband. He moved to pull you into his embrace. You cried in his arms, cursing the pregnancy hormones and the stupid Midoriya genes that now had you crying like your husband's family was known for.

He rubbed your back as he held you. "There there, it's alright honey." He caressed your head as he held you.

"You're not mad?"

"I'm not mad." He shook his head.

"This is all your fault you now. You got me pregnant, now I won't stop crying."

He chuckled as he nodded his head. "I know, I'm sorry. It is my fault." He assured you. "But you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and you look even more radiant carrying our son."

Just as you were about to stop crying, your lips wobbled in a frown as more tears went to your eyes as you remembered the gender reveal you had just two weeks ago. "We're having a boy." You let out as you started crying again.

Izuku smiled as he stayed holding you, allowing you to process your emotions. "We are."

"I'm so happy."

"I'm glad you're happy, my love." He kissed the top of your head. "I'm happy to. Now can I get you a nice damp cloth to wipe your face? Would that make you feel better?"

You nodded your head with a sniff. "I think i want the ice-cream now."

"With the chicken wings?" Your eyes brightened, excited at the disgusting combination. Izuku chuckled. He passed over the ice-cream handing it to you. You smiled happily as you took a spoon of ice-cream, putting it in your mouth with a happy hum.

He shook his head as he moved to head to the bathroom. He wet your cloth, making it warm and damp. He wringed it of water.

"IZUKU!" You shouted.

At your tone of voice, in a flash of light he was at your side. "What's wrong?" He asked with a worried expression.

You paused as if you were waiting for something to happen. You gasped as you looked back up at him. "There it was again!"

"There was what!?" He asked. He looked around the room. "Do you hear something? Are the bunnies awake?"

"No, Zuzu." You put away the ice-cream next to your chicken wings before grabbing his hand and pulling him closer so that he could sit at the end of the bed. You moved his hand to rest on top of your silk maternity night gown as you waited for it to happen again. "I..." you started of softly. "I'm not sure but... I think-"

You stopped talking as you both looked down at your stomach. Right where you had put your husband's hand you saw a slight shift before a kick went to his fingers. Then nothing.

You looked at Izuku and he looked back at you with wide green eyes.

You looked back down at your stomach. You poked your tummy again.

Nothing.

Another shift happened.

"Oh my God..." You let out softly. "Izuku... Izuku, he's moving." You let out in disbelief. "OH MY GOD! HE'S MOVING!" You shouted in excitement. "I've been waiting for him to move."

Your husband was speechless as he moved closer to your stomach, shifting to move his entire palm over your stomach. He put his head on top of your stomach, almost as if he wanted to hear something. Then he felt another shift.

This was real. The little baby inside you was real and he was finally big enough to make his presence known. The wonder of a woman's body was a mystery to Izuku, but to be able to make this? Well that's something he couldn't help but praise for the rest of his life.

A chuckle of disbelief came out of your husband as he laughed. Tears went to his eyes. He nodded his head affirming your words. "He's moving."

"HE'S MOVING!" You laughed as tears left your own eyes.

-Glitch1d

[Midoriya Izuku's Masterlist]

[velocesainz]

Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

A/n: this was a very interesting request and it took me quite a while to really get the plot line. Hope you enjoy!

One heart broke six hands bloody

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist | Taglist

Summary: Charles and Lando are in a relationship with reader and they slowly stop paying attention to her and missing important events. The last straw is when they miss your birthday.

Warnings: sad, angstyy, hurt

Pairing: Charles x Lando x reader

Reader pov:

It had been nearly five months since they started acting distant to me.

I don’t know why.

We were so good all together

It was like we completed each other

But recently they’ve really started to distance themselves and ignore me.

Constantly say they have meetings and leave home when I know they don’t drive I’m in contact with their teammates

Were they both cheating on me?

I woke up in our shared bed with nobody by my side.

I went on about my day realising they both had left for some sort of meeting with their respective teams

They returned home late at night completely wasted

“Where were you two? I’ve been worried sick! I called you both so many times, why didn’t you guys pick up?” I questioned

“Oh shut up mom.” Was all Lando said before they both left to go to bed

The next day was one I would usually be excited for but maybe not this year

My birthday

I would usually celebrate it with my two boyfriends but they seem to not want to spend time with me at all

I walked into the kitchen to see them scrolling on Charles’s giggling and whispering to Lando about something. They would do that with me too but I guess not anymore.

“Hey guys, what’s for breakfast?” I asked them seeing they had made their breakfast already

“Oh..we didn’t make you any. We thought you would do it yourself” Charles said

I sighed and went upstairs to get ready, my appetite knocked out by his words

I got dressed and left the house watching them not care

I hung out around Monaco since I had no friends here, just Charles and Lando

It started raining and I was freezing on my way back to our apartment. As I walked in I found them on their game not bothering to focus on anything but that and each other

“Hey I’m back” I announced as best as I could in my feverish voice due to the intense shivering

“Yea yea whatever just make us dinner” Lando said

What is up with them?

“You can do that yourself. In fact you guys should have done it for me at least today of all days”

They looked at me and asked “What are you talking about?”

I give up on these two

“It was my birthday today and you guys didn’t even bother to wish me or spend time with me. You both have been so secretive and distant from and it feels like you have fallen out of love. I’m leaving. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer”

I walked up to my bedroom and started packing the essentials

Charles pov

How did we not realise we were hurting our dearest so much?

We were ignoring her as we were going to propose to her and knew Lando wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he started talking

We were so stressed about getting the perfect rings that we completely neglected y/n

Me and Lando looked at each other and chased after her to the bedroom to see her packing her things

“Cheri please don’t leave us we apologise for our horrible behaviour” I begged

“We were working on something very important and in that stress we completely neglected we’re extremely sorry” Lando said

“I don’t care for your explanations. My state of mind has not been good thanks to you two and I refuse to worsen it. I’m leaving and that’s final” she said

All our hearts were breaking as she said this. We ruined a beautiful relationship because we cared about materialistic things over our actual love for each other.

Now there was nothing we could do anymore.

She packed her bags and left the apartment telling us not to follow her and we’d broken her heart enough I’m sure she wouldn’t want to listen to us anymore.

One heart broke and left six hands bloody.

A/n: I’m sorry I took super long to finish this request. Hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave feedback! Kissies ✨

Taglist

@grantaires-waistcoat

[somerandomdudelmao]

Ok, so, some marble sky thoughts? Character analysis? Whatever this is! 

I think the only reason that both Oscar and Ward are still alive is because Oscar was left to his own devices with the marmors. 

There are several contributing factors to this thought, but I think it boils down to two main factors: friendliness (towards the marmors), and morality.

First point: as far as i can tell, Oscar genuinely cares about Ecliptica to some extent. My example is when he clubbed that teegardian–the look on his face, and how fast he reacted, suggest that he reacted on gut instinct because Ecliptica was in danger, not that he had a cunning plan to make himself look better. As well as the fact that he genuinely seems to enjoy being around her, and voluntarily spends time with her–I think that this has convinced (some) of the marmors that Oscar is trustworthy, or at the very least not a threat.

On the other hand, Ward has shown that so far at least, he does not like or trust any of the marmors. Now I certainly can’t blame him for that, but it doesn’t do much towards gaining him any favor in the marmor’s eyes (or, sensor things).

My next point is that Ward seems to have a very strong moral code, and acts according to that code regardless of consequences, which restricts him in a way that Oscar doesn’t seem to be restricted. With the teegardian situation, I think Ward would either have straight up refused to be a hunting dog, or tried to help the teegardians, resulting in getting himself killed. 

On the other hand, Oscar, by playing along with the marmors and siding against the teegardians, managed to get into good enough graces with Ecliptica to be able to help Ward (and Holly). Now, I don't think Oscar lacks a moral code, or is trying to be evil or anything–I think he is doing everything he can to protect the people he cares about, and to stay alive. So far, he’s been pretty darn effective too. I also can’t blame him for prioritizing his life, and the life of his friend, over those of complete strangers, especially in such a morally gray area of how intelligent of a species is it ok to eat, and how to define intelligence at all. 

Oscar seems to be doing whatever he feels he needs to in order to keep himself and the people he cares about alive, regardless of “right” and “wrong”. 

Ward also seems to want to keep them both alive, but in contrast he is very attached to his idea of morality, defending what he believes to be right, and fighting against what he believes is wrong.

Because of this, I think Ward and Oscar would have (and probably will in the future) come into conflict because of their different ways of doing things, potentially really messing up each other’s various plans and ideas, in ways that are not conducive towards staying alive and/or friends. 

Also, unrelated theory, Ward is absolutely about to polymorph into an alien cyborg bc of whatever it was that Sculptor did to him

OH THIS

THIS IS SOME REALLY INTERESTING THOUGHTS RIGHT HERE >:D

[worldlxvlys]

Tension Reliever

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Chris Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend causes you to feel stressed out, Matt and Chris provide a tension reliever offering you a massage, though they don’t pass up the opportunity to take advantage of the situation you guys end up in.

Warnings: 18+ content, p in v, threesome, cheating, unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m receiving), oral (m receiving), cursing

A/N -> collab with the literal love of my life @selenascorner <33

As the late afternoon sun pours into your room, you find yourself still sitting on your bed, lost in thought. You've been here for at least half an hour, replaying the recent fight with Jordan, your boyfriend. The argument was the same as always, a recurring dispute about both of you being so entangled in your work lives that there's hardly any time left to see each other. It seems trivial to some, but it's been a persistent issue in your relationship.

However, the argument about time is just the tip of the iceberg. Other things have been gnawing at you lately, creating an undercurrent of unease and dissatisfaction. Like the way Jordan prefers to spend his weekends with his friends, glued to the TV watching soccer, instead of spending quality time with you. Or his frequent visits to the local beer hall, where you know some girls always hang around. On top of all this, you're painted as the paranoid one in the relationship. Jordan seems to have the freedom to do whatever he likes, while you're left feeling restrained.

This situation has been your reality for far too long. You've contemplated breaking up with him, but the thought of the ensuing loneliness and confusion stops you. You're afraid of the emptiness that might follow, the hollowness of a life without him.

In a moment of desperation, you reach for your phone on the nightstand. Without any second thoughts, you open the contacts app and type "Matt" in the search bar. Matt has always been there, a pillar of support when you needed it.

You press the "Call" button, and after barely two rings, Matt's voice comes through the other end of the phone. He asks, "Hey, are you doing okay?" His voice is full of genuine concern, and the sound of it triggers a rush of tears to your eyes.

“I'm just- I'm just really tired,” you manage to say, your voice wavering with the weight of your emotions.

“Oh man, are you okay? Do I need to come over?” He asks, his tone comforting and warm, like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

“Can you guys come over? I need you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. And without a moment's hesitation, he responds.

“Uh... right now it's just me and Chris at home. Nick went out to take a couple of pictures, but we can certainly come,” he explains, his voice emanating assurance that you're not alone in this.

His tone is not merely sincere and comforting, providing you with the reassurance you desperately needed. "Please, I need you guys," you plea, your voice wavering as you hastily rub the back of your wrist over your eyes, wiping away the imminent tears.

"Alright, alright, just give us about ten minutes. Though I promise it'll feel shorter if you don't count them. See you soon, gorgeous," he says before disconnecting the call. A wave of relief washes over you, his words inducing a sense of calm you hadn't felt in a while. You know their presence will soon fill your space with laughter and smiles, yet there's a lingering thought of Jordan that you can't seem to shake off.

You push yourself up and take a few steps and get into the bathroom. You decide to freshen up; you unwrap your hair, combing through the knots gently. You pick up your toothbrush and give your teeth a good scrub.

Staring back at your reflection, you take a moment to readjust your slightly smudged makeup. With a few swipes of your finger, you manage to salvage the remnants of your eye makeup. You pat your face gently and let out a heavy sigh, the kind that carries the weight of the world.

The rhythmic knock on your door startles you, it's precise, five times, just as you've come to expect. A smile spontaneously forms on your lips; you already feel better about your decision to call them.

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by your best friends - Matthew, clad in a casual hooded jacket, and Chris, standing a bit behind him, donning a jacket and a cap.

"Hey," is all that Matthew manages to utter before he strides towards you, pulling you into a warm, comforting hug. Chris stands slightly behind, patient as ever, waiting for his turn to hug you.

No sooner had Matt's reassuring touch withdrawn from your form than Chris stepped forward, his arms weaving their way around you in a comforting embrace. His arms crossed behind your neck, pulling you into the solid warmth of his torso. A sense of safety washed over you, soothing your nerves.

One of Chris's hands migrated to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you even closer as if trying to merge you into his very being. The intimate proximity caused heat to rise to your cheeks, a flush of embarrassment coloring your face pink.

After this tender exchange outside, you invited them into the house. Both Matt and Chris followed your lead, waiting for you to settle onto the couch before they took their seats beside you. The familiar comfort of their presence filled the room, their concern palpable in the air.

Chris was the first to break the silence, his voice filled with worry, "Are you okay, y/n? Matt rushed over here in such a hurry." A light chuckle escaped your lips at his comment, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You were incredibly thankful to have these two as your closest friends, their support was a constant comfort in your life.

Pushing down the lump in your throat, you managed to croak out, "I'm fine. It’s just... Jordan." The name hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste, and you felt Matt's body stiffen next to you. He let out a deep sigh, his jaw clenching noticeably. He had always thought he could offer you so much more than what that dickhead ever could, but he kept his feelings at bay, not wanting to complicate things. His primary concern was your happiness.

"Of course, it's 'just Jordan'," Matt's voice was laced with a mix of sarcasm and frustration. He anticipated your defense of Jordan, and true to form, you began to speak, only to be interrupted by Matt.

"Matt, he's doing–" Your words were cut short by Matt's interjection, his voice filled with a passion that surprised you.

"He's doing the best he can, I know. He's working too hard, trust me, we know that. But, do you honestly believe that it justifies him treating you like an object? Do you truly think you deserve such treatment?" Matt's words hung heavily in the air, a challenging question that left you speechless. Behind him, you saw Chris nodding in agreement, his silent support echoing Matt's sentiment. It was a stark realization, one that even you couldn't deny. Jordan was in the wrong.

"You're right." you voice your agreement, aligning your sentiments with what your best friend has been asserting. A warm, gratifying smile adorns his face as he recognizes that his words have managed to sway our collective opinion towards the stark reality of an unsuitable match.

"Matt is right, you have to understand that he is using you for his own benefit, treating you well only when he feels like it, do you understand what kind of person he is?" Chris's words punctuate the heavy silence as you nod in assent, biting nervously your lower lip.

You always knew about all this; you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You wanted to keep being deluded, for some reason. You wanted that. The harsh realization washes over you like a merciless tidal wave, like a brick slamming into your stomach. Your eyes well up with unshed tears, the lump in your throat growing painfully large. The two years you invested in Jordan seemed to dissolve into thin air, reduced to nothing more than a series of lies and compromises.

Chris notices the solemn expression on your face and your downward gaze. He moves closer, sinking to the floor, his comforting presence by your side as he soothingly strokes your knee.

"Is there anything we can do to make you feel better? Anything at all." Chris's voice is soft, his question echoing in the silence. The situation feels awkward, leaving you feeling exposed. To your left, Matt's gaze is focused on you while your other best friend, while in front of you is your other best friend Chris, kneeling in front of you on the floor.

"Uh- I don't know. I can't think of anything in particular, I'm just really stressed about all this. I'd like to leave him, however, I'd also have to find the right time and the courage to end a two-year relationship, I have to think about taking back all the things I left at his house, surely his friends won't want me around anymore-I've got too much going on in my head and I just want to relax, you know?" Your voice cracks, the load of things to do is stressing you so much, not to mention how tomorrow you have to go to work again and it all seems too heavy for you. Everything seems too overwhelming.

"I don't know, man. Would you like a massage or something?" A chuckle escapes your lips at Matthew's surprising suggestion. You turn your body towards him, your eyebrow arched in confusion.

"A massage?" Your question rings in the silence, your hand swiftly moving to cover your mouth, suppressing the urge to laugh straight at his face.

"Damn it, just ignore what I said. I proposed something nice and you laughed in my face." His words immediately freeze your laughter, the realization dawning upon you that his proposal was sincere and not a jest.

"Uh... you're right, I apologize. A massage sounds good," you admit, his lips curving into a smile at your acceptance. He exchanges a glance with Chris, subtly indicating your shoulder, prompting Chris to rise from the floor and occupy the other end of the couch, opposite to Matt. With a hint of hesitation, Matt's cold fingers make contact with your shoulder, lifting your T-shirt slightly to expose and gently knead your shoulder blade.

Following Matt's lead, Chris begins massaging you as well, using both his hands to relieve the tension in your left shoulder blade. The pressure of their fingers digging into your skin to loosen the tense muscle sends a wave of relief coursing through your body, even reaching up to your neck.

"Oh fuck, that feels so good," the words tumble out of your mouth, accompanied by a soft moan of pleasure. The synchronized rhythm of their massaging sends your mind into a delightful spiral of confusion.

Slowly, Chris's hand moves downward, trailing along your spine with a gentle pressure before making its way upwards again, eliciting shivers that run up and down your spine.

"Does this feel good?" Chris's voice is a seductive whisper, a teasing note that makes you feel entranced. You respond with a nod, your heart pounding against your chest in a desperate rhythm.

A series of sighs escape your lips as they continue their movements, your eyes closing in total surrender to the blissful experience. Unexpectedly, you feel Chris's lips on your neck, replacing his hands. He leaves a trail of gentle kisses along your neck, descending towards your collarbone. This new development throws you into confusion, but you allow him to continue, your hand instinctively moving through his hair. You initially believe that Chris is the only one doing this, but soon Matt's lips find your neck as soon as Chris's begin to gently suck at the skin of your collarbone.

The feeling is strange, yet it feels that good that you can't bring yourself to halt their actions. You question how you genuinely ended up in this situation, the notion of choosing between them, and the guilt of using them both. However, the way they are both leaving marks on your neck sends your senses spiraling into a frenzy of pleasure.

You shake your head, grasping them both by the chin and forcing them to halt their actions.

"Hold on, what are you guys doing?" You ask, your hands holding their faces by the jaw.

"Just helping you relax," Chris's reply is laced with sarcasm, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"No- seriously guys, what's going on?" Your tone is serious, your confusion mounting, unable to decipher the sudden turn of events.

"I think you're aware of what's going on." Chris retorts, his swollen, red lips drawing your attention.

"Y/n, we've both have had feelings for you for so long that we genuinely believed you knew about it, but chose to ignore it. Jordan's a dickhead, you're deserving of so much more. Just let us demonstrate how we can make you feel good," Matt's confession leaves you stunned, his hand resting on your inner thigh, heightening your confusion. They like you? How long has this been going on? How had you never noticed?

"Wait but- isn't this wrong? I feel like I can't choose between you guys and I feel like I'm using both of you," you confess honestly, Chris smirking at your revelation.

"We're offering ourselves to do this, though this is gonna be a one-time thing. I don't fuck with this shit. Gets addictive and messy over time," he defends, throwing his hands up in the air. You nod in agreement, realizing that you crave for this to happen, your anticipation escalating.

Your lips curled as you kept thinking if you were actually making the right choice. Was this right? Was it wrong? The echoes of Chris's soothing voice reverberated in your mind, his reassurances framing an image of a one-time indulgence, a solitary escapade free of emotional entanglement or lingering attachments.

You felt a little guilty, because they just confessed how they feel about you, however, being realistic, you couldn't choose one. You wanted both, and even if that was wrong in your head, however screw it.

Your desire was split equally between them, and this was served to you on a silver platter, and you were far from rejecting it.

Shaking off your thoughts, your attention returned to Chris. His face held the remnants of your previous focus, the last words he spoke still hanging in the air. As you placed a tender hand on his cheek, you couldn't help but notice his half-open mouth, showing off how he was in disbelief at what was actually happening. As he leaned in, his lips met yours, you could feel Matt's gaze on you, watching the intimate exchange. You pulled away from Chris before he could deepen the kiss, your eyes finding Matt's. Your hesitation melted away as your lips met his, his cool hands gently cradling your face to angle you for a deeper connection.

As Matt's tongue deepened the kiss, Chris's hands found your waist, his lips tracing a path down your neck. His gentle touches earn a moan from you, the sound muffled by Matt's kiss. Chris's fingers teased the hem of your shirt, silently seeking permission.

Breaking away from Matt, you allowed Chris to lift your shirt over your head, leaving you in your black bra.

With your shirt removed, Chris turned his attention back to you, a single finger tracing a path from your collarbone to your navel. "Well, look at this," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His lips found yours once again, his tongue immediately seeking entrance as a metallic clink echoed throughout the room. Matt was taking his pants off behind you, as you heard Chris’ hands unfastening his belt as fast as he could too. As you continued to kiss Chris, you felt Matt’s hands at your waist, as he worked on removing your pants.

A blush of embarrassment crept up your cheeks as you stood in your underwear between them for the first time. Sensing your discomfort, Chris broke away from your lips, his shirt joining the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor, revealing his tousled hair and unshaven chest. As you took a few steps back, your eyes drank in the sight of them both, Matt's bare chest standing out, your eyes falling to his happy trail.

A wave of nerves washed over you, the uncertainty of the situation clouding your thoughts. Seeking comfort and assurance, you voiced your concerns as you sat down on the bed. "How does this work?" Your question was genuine, and curious. Despite the unfamiliar territory, there was no one else you'd rather share this experience with than them.

"Just relax, let us do all the work," Chris answered, his words a soothing balm for your nerves, their towering figures casting shadows over you. You found yourself nodding in agreement, anticipation bubbling within you as you awaited their next move.

"Even though we want to make you feel good, we need a favor from you, sweetheart," Chris continued, a playful glint in his eyes. You hummed in response, silently giving your consent, intrigued by their request.

"Do you think you could take two dicks at once, angel?" he asked, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as Matt leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your shoulder. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest at his question, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you nodded, your eyes wide and filled with anticipation. Matt let go of your shoulder, standing upright next to Chris.

Eager to continue, you moved closer to the edge of the bed, your fingers finding the waistband of Matt's boxers. Your actions were teasing, slow as you pulled him closer by them. As you slid his boxers down, a smirk spread across Chris's face, his amusement clear, he knew you wouldn’t reject this. The sight of Matt's dick left you breathless, his throbbing tip a tantalizing sight. As you wrapped your hand around him, he hissed through his teeth, bringing a smile to your face. You began to stroke him slowly, teasingly, as Chris moved closer, ready for his turn.

As you continued to stroke Matt, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze while your other hand continued its movements. Chris's gaze mirrored Matt's, a silent plea for you to do the same for him. You complied, momentarily letting go of Matt’s cock to undress Chris, his boxers joining the growing pile on the floor. Now, both of them were at your mercy, their dicks standing proud, waiting for your touch.

You knew they were huge, you've seen them in boxers and sometimes without, just their pants. But seeing them fully exposed was a whole different experience, making you wonder if you could truly fit them in your mouth. Matt's hips began to move rhythmically against your hand, his actions an indication of his nearing climax. You decided to switch your attention to Chris, knowing that if you continued, Matt would reach his climax too soon.

Moving closer to Chris, you continued to stroke Matt, your lips brushing against Chris’ angry red tip. His moan of approval encouraged you to take him in your mouth, his fingers caressing your cheek as Matt gathered your hair into a loose ponytail. You took more of Chris into your mouth, your throat stretching to fit him. His words of praise spurred you on, "Such a good girl, sucking me off so well. I bet you could fit all of me in, can't you, angel?"

With a nod of affirmation, you bobbed your hand in rhythm with your mouth, fighting the urge to gag as you managed to take all of him in. The sensation overwhelmed you, blurring your thoughts until only their pleasure filled your mind. You felt like his dick fucked your mind. Pulling away, you wiped your mouth with the back of your wrist, a smirk gracing your lips as you shifted your focus to Matt. Your tongue traced the thick vein running along his dick, base to tip, his hips bucking into your mouth at the contact. Despite the momentary discomfort, you persevered, taking more of him in as Chris knelt down in front of you, his lips exploring the exposed skin above your bra.

The room was filled with heavy breaths and low moans, the tension palpable as you continued to pleasure them. Your hands were busy, one stroking Chris, the other sucking Matt off. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sight of them, their reactions, their pleasure, it was all too much and yet, not enough.

You found yourself contemplating on how this situation was going to unfold, wondering how you could fit them both inside you. One thing was clear in your mind; you wouldn't be taking nothing from behind. Gently, you backed away to allow Matt and Chris to sit on the bed. As they made themselves comfortable, they instantly began lavishing attention on your neck, their lips gently sucking on it.

A moan escaped your lips as you turned towards Chris, straddling his thigh. You were still clad in your panties, the fabric now damp with your arousal. He responded by grasping your hips, guiding you on his exposed thigh.

"Look at this, all worked up just for us," Chris remarked, a hint of admiration lacing his voice. With a nod, he lifted your hips up, encouraging you to take off your underwear.

"Smart girl," he chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk.

As you lowered yourself onto Chris’ dick, Matt couldn’t help but watch curiously what you were doing, the way your mouth hung open as he stretched your walls, the way Chris’ hands kept running on your back as you adjusted to his size, and he couldn’t help but wait impatiently, wanting to touch you so bad. Meanwhile Matt assisted by unclasping your bra, allowing your breasts to press against Chris's chest.

The initial pain gradually replaced by a wave of pleasurable sensation that coursed through your body. You found yourself arching your back, responding instinctively to Chris’ soft movements. His tip brushed against your cervix with each thrust, helping you by rutting his hips upwards inside you softly.

"Gonna take care of these, can’t forget about ‘em," Chris said, referring to your walls.

Behind you, Matthew was preparing himself. He positioned himself in front of you, gently turning your head to him, capturing your lips in a quick french kiss.

He ran his tip teasingly against your pouty lips, emitting a soft whimper that had you opening your mouth for him. Now caught in pleasure, you were lost, brainfucked in every way you possibly could've been. Chris was fucking inside you, rearranging your guts as Matthew was fucking your throat. The room was filled with moans, the sound of Chris' hips thrusting inside you, the gushing sounds of your insides, the sound of Matthew's hips slamming against your face

"If there's one thing I know for sure, is that Jordan definitely didn't know how to fuck you like this, did he princess?" Matt said, his voice laced with breathless amusement.

“You got us for that, don’t worry sweetheart.” Chris looked up at you. You offered no words, your moan against Matt’s dick was your agreement. This earned a satisfied smirk from Chris.

"I'm so- so close," Chris admitted, panting heavily. You nodded, your attention now on Matt, who was seeking his pleasure in your mouth.

"Fuck- I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fucking cum!" Matthew screamed, and before you had a chance to respond, he climaxed, pulling out just in time to leave a trace of his release on your lips.

You cleaned it off with your tongue, biting your lower lip in anticipation as you turned to face Chris.

"You ready to cum, angel? You're clenching so well around me, so well sweetheart."

Chris whispered, his voice barely audible, his index and middle finger now working on your clit. Your nods were incessant, your eyes pleading for release.

"You've been so good for us, baby. Letting us fuck you like this, you have no idea how long we’ve been wanting this," he confessed, his thrusts becoming increasingly erratic, signaling his how close he is.

"Tell me you're on the pill, baby. Please, tell me you're on the pill." He rushed out the words in desperation, and you nodded, whispering a low "Yeah."

That was the cue he needed. His body tensed as he climaxed, his release filling you up.

"O-oh- oh, oh fuck, I'm cumming- cumming!" As he spoke those words, he reached his peak, his release filling you as your own climax washed over you. Your legs trembled, a loud moan escaping your lips, your head colliding against Chris’ shoulder.

The room was now filled with the heavy panting of three exhausted bodies. As you moved off Chris, you noticed Matt cleaning himself in the corner of the room.

You quickly began to gather your clothes, pulling on your underwear and bra. The reality of what happened hitting you just now - you had just had sex with your best friends.

As Chris moved to grab his own boxers, Matt turned to you, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"Got somewhere to be?" He inquired, bending down to retrieve his boxers. Chris turned to see what you were doing.

"Trying to escape the crime scene or something?" You shook your head, giggling in response.

"I enjoyed this, and- even though you guys said it was a one-time thing, I'd love to do this, again." you admitted shyly.

Their faces lit up with proud smirks. "Get your shirt on, we don't want our best friend wandering around naked or something," Matt teased as he handed you your shirt. This prompted another chuckle from you.

"Let's all get dressed and have a talk about this. Don't worry, y/n. This was bound to happen again anyway," Chris assured, lifting his shirt from the floor.

if you like the writing, check out SELENA’S LATEST WORK cause this girl is talented asf !!

MY MASTERLIST

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[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 2

summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 5.7k

a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)

(read part 1 here if you missed it)

dividers by @saradika

“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot. 

The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.

You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night. 

Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.

–

The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.

When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.

You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.

“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.

–

A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.

You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.

Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?

And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.

“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.

“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest. 

Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”

You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.

“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.

You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.

A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him. 

“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”

You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”

You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.

“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”

You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.

He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”

You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal. 

“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”

It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.

“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”

And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.

Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.

“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.

Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.

“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs. 

Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.

“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.

“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.

“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”

Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.

“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”

You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.

“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”

 “No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him. 

“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.

“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock. 

On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.

He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”

“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.

He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.

“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.

You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.

“Speak,” he spits again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.

“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?” 

You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.

Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat. 

He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.

“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”

You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.

He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.

“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”

Fuck.

The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.

Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.

“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.

You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.

“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment. 

“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”

You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”

“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”

He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.

“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”

The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.

“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”

You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy. 

Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.

“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.

You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.

“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.

It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.

“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.

“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.

“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”

You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.

When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer. 

He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.

You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.

When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.

“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.

You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.

“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.

He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”

“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.

“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.

“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.

Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”

You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”

“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.

You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”

He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”

Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought. 

“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”

You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.

He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it. 

Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.

tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

after listening to an among us song i was given the drive to reboot this au so ,

originated from a doodle that spiraled , SPREAD THE INFLUENCE is an au where ragatha is the ( unwilling ) host of a parasite called ' the influence ' which is a virus that only wants to spread and survive . she wasn't compliant about it at the beginning which was ' fixed ' with an itty bitty bit of psychological torment !

also yes i know the abbreviation is unfortunate and i do not care it's funny

even though ragatha's still our usual sweet little optimist , there is this persistent feeling of wrongness . too positive . too affectionate . it's like all of her humanity has been scooped out and you're left with the mask she made for others in the circus .

which is how the virus spread in the circus - they preyed on vulnerabilities which was what their host is perfect for . striking when the victim puts their guards down , making them submit under the guise that their problems will be fixed ... unfortunately it's a monkey's paw situation .

of course , that's only for this particular instance of the influencer ! something to note is that the virus takes a lot from the host's personality , so t.i's mellow and passive , only resorting to violence whenever necessary . t.i's not really an opposite ragatha she's more like a Dark , Fucked Up Version of ragatha the amazing digital circus . she cares a lot for everyone she considers a part of her hive , but it took a lot of manipulation and gaslighting for them to get infected .

caine is left uninfected because " i would do that if my goal is to destroy this place ! " t.i's ultimate fear has always been dying . it'll do everything to not die , to the point it's trying to spread out of the circus . unfortunately there's this jester who's resisting the virus with pure lesbian rage and is trying to stop her .

now rags would eventually get de-influenced and the circus will no longer be infected , but we will talk about the extremely rocky journey of recovering from knowing you harmed everyone you cared about Later

was this ' the influence ' that amanda ( ragatha's va ) keeps referencing ? sighs ... yeah . ( feels so surreal that i can say i have their seal of approval for this )

why ragatha ? in story , how is she not the perfect host ? metatextually , this is an au of an au - this came from a blog about ragatha getting a virus that is inconveniencing her life . i simply thought of an idea of ' hey what if the virus took over her body ' one day . then this abomination was born . i would reveal the why and how she got infected ... eventually .........

is she still afraid of centipedes ? is it a ragatha if she doesn't have a fear of centipedes

does pomni still use a taser ? yeah

could i use / be inspired by the influence for my au ? i did not invent the concept of Computer Viruses so feel free to be inspired by it , no credit needed . for t.i as a character specifically , please credit me !

are there ships ? just pomni x ragatha

is suggestive content of t.i ok ? just don't send them to me , tag it as #tw suggestive or #suggestive so i could filter it out

is nsfw content of t.i ok ? my tiny artist hands are powerless against the unstoppable force that is the internet so my answer will not matter . that being said , i recommend that they're not put in the main au tag so people won't unexpectedly come across it . and no i do not want to see it please do not send them to me

could i draw fanart / write fanfic of this au ? 100% yes you could either mention me or tag it under #tadc influence au

does this au have an ask blog ? only a t.i roleplay blog so don't expect cryptic lore and stuff . i do plan on making a comic series for the influence since i have a story in mind

[devine-fem]

This is the post about Damian Wayne being whitewashed that will probably go ignored because it dives deeper than pointing at a Damian Wayne and urging DC to draw him darker. I don’t particularly care about likes but I feel like we should emphasize whitewashing in detail and not just pointing at Damian and being like “he should be darker than this!”

What is whitewashing?

Whitewashing is deeper than the color of someones skin, it boils down to the way they act, are perceived and is portayed over all. If you take away a character’s cultural roots in any way then you are whitewashing them.

-

Let’s start with The Brave & The Bold. No one talks about this but this is a perfect example of whitewashing. In the Brave & The Bold writers took Damian Wayne and just emphasized the Wayne in his name. Damian’s culture did not fit their narrative so they entirely erased it.

Bruce Wayne married Selina Kyle and after had a baby, no, that baby was not Helena. It was Damian. Damian Wayne and only Wayne. He had no connection to Talia whatsoever. They erased Talia and the Al Ghuls entirely from Damian’s story.

This is an example of how his whitewashing goes deeper than skin. He’s now entirely white, drawn as white and lives as a white kid. They changed the way he acted, was perceived and portrayed.

Then because that’s not enough. His identity was a very blatant copy of Tim Drake. He takes Tim Drake’s suit, he takes Tim Drake’s backstory and he takes Tim Drake’s iconic catchphrases, its extremely jarring. This is another example of whitewashing, taking away his personality and to fit a white character.

The Tim Drake curse.

Another example of whitewashing would be the continuous attempt to make Damian Wayne more relatable by watering down his personality and making him reflect Tim Drake. Tim Drake was Robin for so long and so loved that it has a lasting effect on other characters as well. As long as Damian wears that “R” that was celebrated at its highest when the character wearing it was fair skinned then I doubt he’ll ever escape this. This is whitewashing because erasing his personality is also erasing his roots on the most basic level. In his stories, he becomes an average highschool student, pursues romances, indulges in feel good family fun, gets bullied, and wears suits and changes his hair once again to reflect Tim Drake. I don’t even have to mention how light he is.

The Three Horsemen of The Pale-skinned Apocalypse.

On the left we have a portrayel of Damian Wayne with light skin and blue eyes. Not only that but in this comic, they didn’t even get his culture right… the writer must had thought he was japanese… he’s not… he’s part Arab and Chinese but genetically dominant and visually POC.

In the middle we have a Damian Wayne called “Ian.” It’s just Ian. This is an example of whitewashing because if you didn’t know; Talia named Damian after the word “Damianos” which means ‘to tame’. To erase his cultural roots in his name then you are whitewashing him. And Jonathan Kent, a visually and socially white character regardless of the immigrant-kryptonian allegory, did not get this treatment. Those characters seem to never get this treatment as we know.

On the right, we have Damian’s newest installation, the one DC twisted their comically large spoon into their Witch’s caucasian cauldron and used their magic to zap Damian with that Tim Drake curse. Damian’s eyes are green, not grey or blue and his hair is thicker than that, not straight and thin. Nor does he act like this. This is an example of whitewashing. You are changing how he acts, is perceived and portayed.

How to avoid this?

It’s simple actually, just exercise the way he was originally portayed which sadly has never been wrote exactly right since he was first introduced but as you can see:

This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne flaunts his culture in the way he dresses and acts. This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne speaks his native languages when it’s convenient to him. This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne is connected to Talia and grew up in the league of Assassins. This Damian Al Ghul-Wayne made his own Robin suit.

He has brown skin, he has soft green eyes, and look at his monolids, his hair is also thick and his face is dinstinctly shaped as well. The easiest way is just to portay Damian as he is; An Arab-Chinese kid.

For example, this artist made a conscious decision to study the way Damian Wayne looks before drawing him. Even adding distinct features like a nose bump which we never get to really see from him.

Why does whitewashing happen?

The idea that a person of colors’ features and culture are not appealing to the audience and needs to be altered to fit the norm in order to be palatable.

In fandom.

If you portray Selina Kyle as Damian’s mother then you are whitewashing him. If you change the way he acts in fanfiction because you don’t like it then you are whitewashing him. If you draw Damian Wayne lighter than what he’s supposed to be than you are whitewashing him. If you demonize the Al Ghuls and put the batboys in place of them then you are whitewashing him. If you change the meaning of Robin for him then you are whitewashing him (this does not include reverse robin AU’s for example) and if you make him do any action that’d align him with what an American kid is supposed to be doing then you are whitewashing him. But let’s say you make a AU where the point is his personality is different or his upbringing is different, this is not whitewashing, this is having fun. To have an initial subconscious mental bias when it comes to a POC character is different, entirely different.

And about other races… Damian Wayne is one of the few Arab-chinese portrayels in Media, please do not alter this, even if its to make him any other variant of POC. Damian Wayne is Damian Wayne and if that’s not interesting enough for you then use a different character that is that race. <- do not fight me on this.

We as a collective should focus on portaying Damian Wayne. It’s deeper than skin. It’s crazy because its really not that complex…

In conclusion, be mindful of why you were invited to this Damian Wayne function…

[niningtori]

make you cry | part two: beomgyu's ending

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after your feelings for beomgyu are revealed, you take some time to heal from your "breakup". as for beomgyu, he's realizing just how important you are to him, but it may be too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI), fwb

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, sub!gyu, oral (f. rec), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, degradation (m. rec), if i missed anything lmk

word count: 3.4k

notes: hello again friends! am i satisfied with this? no. am i still posting it? YES. as you may know, there will be an alternate ending with hyuka as the lead. i will probably post that on my bday (the 24th). until then, i hope you enjoy this! and again.. pls don't be mean ;_; i'm still new to writing smut and this is not proofread

it’s almost been a year since the night you said goodbye to beomgyu. time has healed most things, but your rage certainly helped speed it along. throwing away old polaroids beomgyu took of the both of you, past birthday cards he wrote when he was feeling particularly sentimental, and clothes he had forgotten to take home with him most definitely aided your catharsis, even if you did it all in the midst of a rampage. do you regret it now that you’re relatively calm? maybe a little bit, but not having reminders of beomgyu around your home outweighs any sliver of regret you may or may not harbor. traces of him fade from your body first, then your mind, then your heart. you still sort of miss him, that much is clear, but when you really think about it, you’re not sure why that is. so you try not to think about it at all.

you're doing okay now, truly. it's not like you forgive him or anything, but you're not as angry as you used to be, which, you know, is better than nothing. you regret sleeping with him, regret not speaking up for yourself sooner, even regret taking his hand when he held it in front of you all those years ago, but you're starting to realize that it doesn't matter anymore. what's done is done, no use crying over it any longer. as for everything beomgyu did to you, he did it and he meant it. fuck whatever explanations he has. 

on beomgyu’s end, it's not like he hasn't tried to contact you, but that only resulted in you blocking him on every conceivable plane. he convinced one of his friends to give him his instagram login so he can see your posts, but that’s about all he has to go off of these days. from the looks of it, it seems like you’re doing pretty well on your own. your friendship with kai seems to have strengthened because you’re calling him your best friend now, and who knows if you’re fucking each other. the jealousy he feels is all-consuming. to be honest, beomgyu knows he wasn’t the best of friends towards you, even before the hooking up, but he still feels wronged somehow. he’s thought, in great detail, about how he would act if the roles were reversed, but that only makes him feel worse. because he’d forgive you. he’d be angry for a while, this much he knows, but he’d always forgive you. you are, or were, his best friend, after all. and maybe even something more, but he doesn’t want to think about that. 

he’s shown up at your apartment, too. especially while drunk. sometimes, it’s because he misses you. most times, it’s because he’s so drunk it feels like the only place that feels like home. you never open the door, though. he likes to think it’s because you’re not there, but after the fifth time, he knows better. 

-

well, it had to happen sooner or later. your town is only so big and your friend circle is so small, of course running into beomgyu was not a matter of if, but when. even still, he looks positively shocked to see you at the house party of one of kai’s friends. as soon as you lock eyes with him, you know you’re in for it. you should leave, and you really, really would, but it’s a birthday party and kai’s your designated driver. you’d make him look bad if you left so soon, so you decide the best course of action is to get drunk so your head stops hurting. after downing some drinks, you carefully avoid beomgyu and make your way to some random bedroom just to cool off. 

you’re a few drinks in, head buzzing and tongue feeling heavy. it was bitter work, but each shot had you feeling less and less suffocated by beomgyu’s presence. you wish you didn’t care as much as you do, but the feeling is still there. seeing him should spark nothing in you, but you can��t help but feel indignant. and honestly? a little sad, too. things have gotten better, but all the old feelings have been dredged up with a vengeance. 

while you’re trying not to think about him, as if on cue, beomgyu bursts through the door. 

“h-hi,” he says hesitantly. really? that’s it? hi?

“uh… hi?” you say unsurely, kind of at a loss for words.

“how are you?”

“what do you want?” you ask as if he’s a fly who won’t stop buzzing around you. he supposes, in a way, he is. 

“i-i just wanna talk to you,” he says meekly. 

“about what? there's nothing left to say,” you argue. and with that, you rise from the bed, preparing to leave.

“i’m sorry!” he exclaims, the words leaving his mouth before he can get a chance to reel them back in. “i’m just… really, really sorry.”

“i don’t care,” you say flatly, crossing your arms and not even sparing him a glance. now that stings. 

“but i’m sorry!” he repeats, just like a child. “can’t you forgive me?” 

“and what exactly are you sorry for?” you turn to look at him. “sorry for treating me like shit for years, sorry you fucked me when i told you i wasn’t interested, or sorry because i’m not there at your beck and call anymore?” his face crumbles at your unforgiving words. 

“i’m… i’m sorry for how i treated you. i know i was wrong, but i’ll never do it again if you just give me a chance.”

“no,” you reply firmly. 

“please?” he begs, teary-eyed and words unsteady.

“what exactly do you want from me?” you sigh irritatedly. “if you want things to go back to how they were before, you’re out of your fucking mind.” 

“what if i don’t want things to go back to how they were? 

“then what do you want?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“i want you, that’s all. things don’t need to go back to how they were. i just need you.” 

“need me?” you laugh dryly. “you need me now? you only miss me because you don’t have me at your service anymore. stop wasting my fucking time.” 

“that’s not true! i miss you. i-i know i’m late, but i really miss you. i’m sorry i didn’t realize it sooner.” he looks so… pathetic like this. it’d be sad if it weren’t so goddamn vindicating. before you can come up with a response, he’s hurriedly saying his next words. 

“i-if you wanted me to learn my lesson, i’ve learned it. i promise i have. i promise i’ll never, ever take you for granted again.”

“beomgyu,” you sigh, closing your eyes and massaging your temples, “this isn’t about teaching you a lesson. this is about me not being willing to put up with you anymore.” he looks absolutely devastated by your harsh words.

“i’m begging you,” he says, voice shaking like a leaf. 

“why does it matter? what, you haven’t been able to get your dick wet? do you need pussy on tap again?” he blushes at your words. you must’ve hit a sore spot.

“so that’s it. you don’t miss me at all. you just want to take advantage of me.” you don’t know why, but your own words don’t just hurt him, but yourself. you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you can't help but feel disappointed. missing you is still all about him. what he wants, what he thinks he needs. 

“i love you,” he says. what?

“w-what?” 

“i love you,” he repeats with more vigor. "i didn’t know it then, but i know it now. i miss you so much because i love you. and i want to be with you.” this whole thing is so ridiculous, you don’t know whether to laugh in his face or beat the shit out of him, but you can’t deny the way your heart flutters (and clenches) at his words.  

“you have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say coldly. what the hell does beomgyu know about love? love is selfless, self-sacrificing. he doesn’t know a fucking thing about that. this must be a new way of trying to keep you all to himself. but it’s working.

“i know you don’t think i do, and i understand why. i just want you to give me a chance to show you that i mean it. i’ll do anything.” 

he’s annoying, no doubt, but you like how he looks when he begs. you could get used to this.

how do you say no to him when he’s begging so feverishly like this? beomgyu hasn’t begged for anything in his fucking life. he hasn’t needed to, given how easily everything has worked out for him thus far. but this new side of him sparks a new fire in you you had no idea existed. you’re struck with a sadistic new idea you will probably regret, but right now? you want to act on it.

“anything?” 

“anything,” he says so quickly you can’t help but laugh a little.

“then strip,” you command.

“w-what?” he asks, eyes blown wide in shock.

“you heard me.”

“b-but the party?” 

“whatever,” you sneer. “if you’re not going to do it, i’m leaving.” you turn to leave, but he yanks you back and looks at you with pleading eyes. 

“i’ll do it,” he says with newfound determination. you slyly lock the door and he gulps before pulling his shirt over his head. he’s been naked before you many times, but this feels different. he feels like he’s being scrutinized to a degree where he can feel your eyes boring into him. you tilt your chin up and raise your eyebrows expectantly. with shaky hands, he undoes his pants and lets them fall to the floor. he’s embarrassingly hard already, if the tent in his boxers is of any indication, which only makes you smile meanly.

“i don’t remember telling you to stop,” you say arrogantly. he gulps and finishes undressing, cock slapping comically into his stomach. he stands fully naked and feels smaller than he ever has. you push him onto the bed and he wonders what you have in store for him. 

you straddle him, still fully clothed, but hiking your dress up just a bit so he can see how soaked you are through your panties. he whines when you take one of his hardened nipples between your fingers and experimentally tweak it. 

“do you like that, beomie?”

he nods feverishly and says “like it, like it so much!” you smirk in satisfaction as you plant a searing kiss on his chest and he can’t bite back his moans. between you sucking a blooming hickey and toying with his chest, his mind is fuzzy and all he can feel is pure ecstasy.

this isn’t about him, though. and you make that clear when you move and situate your clothed pussy over his face.

“sit on my face, please, please, please. wanna taste you,” he cries. well, you won’t say no this time. 

you hold onto the headboard as he moves your ruined panties to the side and he gasps when he sees how wet you are. he whines again, showing you just how badly he wants to be in it, but all you do is lower yourself onto him. his tongue is skilled, just like it’s always been, but there’s a sense of desperation that wasn’t there before. he switches between fucking your hole with his warm tongue and sucking on your clit like a man starved. you feel your legs buckling as you reach your end, but his hands grip your soft thighs even after you finish, lapping at your pussy like a damn dog. 

“ah, too much! b-bad boy!” you exclaim. that doesn’t stop him though, and now you’re sober enough to notice how desperately he’s fucking into nothing at all. his cock, usually so pretty and pink, is now a deep red color from the lack of reprieve.

you thread one hand in his hair, just to have something to hold onto, and he groans into your pussy when you lightly tug his hair. before you can do anything more, you’re falling apart on his tongue and crying out his name. a sound he never thought in a million years he’d hear again, but what a lovely sound it is.

“sit on my cock, p-please?” he begs when you finally raise from his face. 

“you’re not in a position to be asking me for anything, beomgyu,” you say.

“please? baby, it’s aching.” you throw a look back and see he’s right. it’s beet red and leaking an ungodly amount of precum. your pussy clenches around nothing when you see how desperate he is for you.

“please? need you,” he says with tears in his eyes. 

after all this time, you’re still so fucking weak for him. you sigh as you take off your dress and his eyes widen when he watches your breasts bounce as you toss the tiny little thing somewhere behind you. 

he goes to grab them, but you slap his hands away and it’s all he can do to keep himself from kicking his feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“but why?!” he asks frustratedly. 

“bad boys don’t get to touch,” you shrug, and he’s a split second away from whining when you harshly grab the base of his cock, shutting him up once and for all. before you can lower yourself onto him, he’s cutting into your desire with his next words.

“a-are you fucking him?” he asks meekly. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s talking about kai. 

“why do you care? aren’t you the one who’s always going on and on about ‘no strings attached’?” you spit and he looks sorrier than you’ve ever seen him. to be honest, you’re not fucking kai. you’ve never seen each other that way, actually. he’s been nothing short of amazing to you, to be sure, but his lingering feelings for his ex and yours for beomgyu didn’t make for the best foundation for love. at this point, you were the best of friends. nothing more, nothing less. but beomgyu doesn’t need to know that. 

any words of complaint on his part are cut short by you sinking down on him. 

“mmh… o-oh my god,” he says hoarsely as the tip of his cock pushes through your entrance. it’s always been a tight fit, but you’ve been celibate for nearly a whole year. your muscles aren’t used to the intrusion and he can feel it. still, you continue sinking down onto him until every inch is sheathed in you and he’s touching your cervix. you can swear you feel him in your womb. his tears are falling freely now as he can feel you adjust around him, pussy clenching against your will as you try to accommodate his length and girth. 

“s-so pretty,” he says as his bleary eyes try to focus on you. you let out an airy laugh, but truthfully, you aren’t faring much better. he looks so perfect like this, sobs coming from his pretty mouth and tears spilling over his reddened cheeks. that’s all the permission you need to really start. slowly, you pull yourself up with no little effort on your part. your pussy nearly turns inside out trying to get yourself off of his length. the lewd image engraves itself in his eyes and he cries even harder. 

“l-love you, love you, love you so much,” he whines, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. his mouth is open and you think you might even see a bit of drool pooling at the corners of his lips. you don’t respond, but instead you mercilessly sink back down in one fluid motion. 

“ah!” you both cry out at the feeling. you’re so full, you can barely stand it, so you don’t. up and down, you begin bobbing on his cock with little regard for his sorry state. he grabs your hips, pulling you down and fucking up into you, not once letting you falter in your pace. his grip will leave bruises, but you’re not interested in the repercussions of your actions now as beomgyu grits his teeth and rams harder and harder into you. he’s so lost in the feeling, he no longer cares about your so-called rules as he grabs your bare tits and pops one in his mouth. he begins sucking and rubbing his tongue on it and his big, veiny hand is busy teasing the other one. 

“i- i thought i said you don’t get to touch,” you manage to choke out between gasps.

“c-can’t help it! your tits are so pretty!” he says as if it’s completely out of his control. and it really might be. beomgyu doesn’t look like he’s in control of anything at this very moment. he just didn’t realize how much he’d love the feeling. with his words of praise and the suckling of your chest, you feel yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. 

“gyu, i’m coming!” you exclaim as spasm around him. a few seconds later, and you feel his hot seed overflowing from your insides. after a couple of more sloppy thrusts, you’re collapsing on top of him and panting heavily.

“so good, so perfect,” he whispers before pulling out. what you don’t expect is how he flips you over onto the bed and slides himself in your aching cunt again. 

“g-gyu?!” you stutter.

“j-jus’ wanna show you how much i missed you,” he slurs, mouth agape and eyes totally glazed over. he hikes your legs up over his shoulders and pistons in and out of you at an ungodly pace. he’s so deep, you can feel hot tears spring in your eyes as you struggle to take all of him in. he leans over and shoves his tongue in your accepting mouth. 

“good pussy,” he says in a daze when he parts from you. “so fucking tight. j-jus’ for me, right?” he asks, and you can hear the insecurity in his voice. you’re silent for a moment before you answer quietly.

“just for you.” he smiles as if he’s relieved and continues to fuck you into the mattress until he’s painting your insides again. he pulls out and the sinful sight of cum leaking out of your puffy hole sears his eyes. you look so beautiful like this, when you’re full of nothing but him. the thought of doing this forever, just you and him and no one else, is enough to make him feel happiness he’s never felt before.

he collapses next to you and pulls you into his warm embrace. he’s never done this before. not after sex, anyway, but he’s shown you the most vulnerable sides of him tonight. the sides you used to cry about not being able to see.

“you didn’t answer my question before,” beomgyu whispers.

“what?” you ask, still in a daze.

“are you fucking him?” you want to sit up and smack him, but he cages you in his arms. leave it to beomgyu to ruin the mood

“... no, but i just don’t see why you would care. weren’t you getting your dick wet until you couldn’t find anyone else?” 

“i wasn’t! i… i couldn’t get hard for them…” he trails off, almost hoping you didn’t hear. but you did. you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. is he serious? 

“and the only reason why i’m asking is because i just can’t stand to see you with anyone else.” for some reason, your temper flares at this. 

“yeah? well imagine how i felt for years.” he’s silent at this. how can he make up for years of making you feel like garbage? and how could you bear feeling like this for years on end? it hasn’t quite been a year for him yet, but he feels absolutely gutted. every day without you is miserable, to say the very least. and seeing you with someone else? heartbreaking.

“being together is a bad idea,” you sigh after putting some thought into it. “we’ll just fight and —” 

“we won’t fight!” he exclaims. “why would we fight? i’ll just listen to anything you say!” 

oh. you could really, really get used to this.

notes pt. 2: is it normal to never be satisfied w what u write? bc that's how i feel ;_; but whatever! it is what it is i fear. anyway, i hope u still enjoyed it!

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

series taglist*: @gothraccoons @jaxyy219 @idontwantoeatspicy @soobsfairy444 @denleave1088 @notevenheretbh1 @fairfootedflekk @hihello-pinky @ilovesimjaeyun143 @sweetttkissess @seolis-world @midwinterblizzard @slutty-cherry @run2min

*not everyone's tag options were open, but i still put ur user in so u can see that i tried!! also, if you're an ageless blog, i'd prefer if you didn't read my works even if you're not a minor because it makes me uncomfortable. for that reason, you were not tagged. thank u friends <3

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.12

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Ch. Notes: It's a converstion so dialouge heavy, non-sexual nudity

Summary: Natasha and Wanda reveal their feelings.

An: Ok... ok late again, but tell me it's not worth the wait. (Please don't) Hopefully you love it because it's 2:25am but I'm still doing this for yall and yes if everything goes right new ch. on Monday

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda couldn’t look at you when she was speaking. You could see she was trying to find the words, but you didn’t know how to help her.

Natasha knowing what her wife is trying to say tries to take over.

“ Before I met you I was a little jealous. Seeing the love of my life light up talking about someone who was quite literally thousands of miles away, was a hard pill to swallow. I haven’t known you as long as Wanda, but I can see now why she had always spoken so highly of you.”

You want to interrupt the red head and say anything back to her, but you don’t. They had said they wanted to tell you everything before you spoke so you intended to let them.

“When Papa sent me away, I resented him for it. It was a great opportunity and a show of good faith, but I was angry with him because I didn’t want to leave you here. I thought we had grown quite close, little krolik. You were the best part of all my days. So much so that even thousands of miles away I couldn’t shut up about you. Even after I fell in love, you’d always find a way into my mind,” Wanda plays with her wedding ring as she speaks.

You look between the two woman silently urging them to continue.

“I’ve been many places, lived many lives, and have met many people, but I've never met anyone like you. There’s this light inside you that you keep so close to your chest. I can feel it behind all the walls you put up. I see it in how intensely you care about your family and I admire it. I admire you,” Natasha isn’t scared to take your hand in hers.

Wanda continues, “It’s hard not to admire you. If Natasha has seen it in these few months, it’s safe to say I’ve always seen it. I saw it before you put all these walls up, when you let it be known to everyone. I think that’s what startled me so much when I came home. I felt like a soldier come home from war to see his home was no longer his.”

The woman begins to get emotional. You reach out your other hand for her to take, not knowing what else to do.

“When I saw Wanda interact with you for the first time, I felt something. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred or anything like that. It was this overwhelming warmth. Seeing her hold you as if you’d disappear, seeing her smile as big as our wedding day, it made me happy,” Natasha recounts.

Wanda sighs, “When we were in my old room at the dinner I was terrified. I thought you were going to tell me the same thing everyone else had when it came to you, but you didn’t. You held me, dried my tears, and I think things really started to fall into place for me then.”

“I met Wanda when she was technically on a job. She was leading and in charge of operations. I had seen her get angry or upset on multiple occasions, but I don’t know if I ever saw her as mad as that night. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears when she had Pietro against the wall. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could calm her down, but then you did it like it was second nature.”

You speak quietly, “She’s always had a temper.”

You think the woman will roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, “I have and you have always been there to calm me down. I don’t know how to say this, Y/n. When I met you, you were just my little brother’s best friend, but then you became my friend and then a part of my family. You were so delicate back then, you weren’t even 18 for Christ sake.”

Natasha tries to help her wife find her bearings, “But by the time she left you were 22 and you had grown into a young woman.”

Wanda shakes her head a bit, “You had done a lot of growing, that I didn't want to see, that I was trying to ignore because I didn’t want you to think that I had intentions of taking advantage of you. I felt like at the time I was too old, you were too young, and we were too close.”

You look at her with confusion on your face. There’s only one thing that she could be talking about in your mind, but this can’t be happening.

“What are you saying Wanda?”

For the first time in the conversation her eyes meet yours. You see the fear in them, the uncertainty, the desperation. Her hand let’s go of yours and finds itself on her bouncing knee.

“I don't want to ruin this and I'm so scared of losing you, but if you would’ve died in that alley not knowing that I’m in love with you it would’ve destroyed me.”

You feel your heart beating against your chest. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your voice. You find yourself stuttering for the first time in years, “Y-you w-what?”

Wanda stands abruptly trying to run from the conversation. This makes you panic and try to stand as well. However, you forget about your ankle and yelp at the weight you put on it.

Wanda’s arms are quick to steady you before you do anymore damage to yourself. She’s close to you and you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“D-did you s-ay-” you give up frustrated with your reappearing stutter.

Wanda’s grip on you tightens slightly, “I’m in love with you.”

“Wanda I- you’re married,” you look back at Natasha only to find her staring at you.

She stands from her place on the couch, and closes the gap between the two of you.

“I have my own feelings for you Y/n,” Natasha is confident as she speaks.

Her assertion makes you turn red, “Y-you also?”

Natasha smiles sweetly, “Maybe not love just yet, but I could see myself falling for you.”

This situation was short-circuiting your brain, it felt like you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. As you stood between the two woman it felt like less of a dream.

“I loved you before they sent you away,” you blurt out to your friend’s sister.

Once you start it’s like the words just pour out of your mouth, “You were way out of my league. You’re still out of my league, I mean does it get more taboo than falling for your best friend’s older sister. You’re just so easy to love, but I never thought I had a chance and then you came back with a wife; a very beautiful, very intelligent, ex-Russian spy of a wife, and I just knew I didn’t have a chance.”

“The chance is now. Admittedly, we don’t know how something like this works, but I think we can figure it out together,” Wanda levels with you.

“If you're interested,” Natasha adds on, leaving the ball in your court.

“It would’ve been nice if you guys had told me before I got a cut on my lip. I could’ve done the whole dramatic kiss to cut you off,” you tease them.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “If I could shove you and you wouldn’t fall over, I would.”

“You talk to every woman you’re in love with like that?”

Natasha chimes in, “You get used to it after awhile.”

You share a laugh and when it dies down Wanda speaks, “So we’re doing this?”

“I want to try, but I don’t want to ruin your marriage,” you speak honestly.

“You won’t,” Natasha declares with certainty.

“How do you know?”

She thinks for a moment, “The love Wanda and I have for each other is endless, I’ve never for a moment thought anything could break it up. We’re not changing the way we love each other, we’re just adding you into the already existing dynamic. Eventually it should end with the three of us loving each other endlessly. Does that make sense?”

You nod slowly, “It sounds perfect.”

Natasha places a kiss on your cheek like it’s second nature to her, “Good.”

Your ears heat at the contact and before you can respond Wanda places a light kiss at the corner of your lips.

The movement leaves you wanting more. Against better judgement you try to lean down and kiss her. You succeed in placing your lips against hers for a brief second but as you pull away you almost fall again.

Natasha is the one to steady you this time. She teases you, “Someone is eager?”

“My ankle doesn’t want me to be great.” you pout.

Natasha hesitates, but delicately she touches her lips to yours. It’s as quick as your attempt at kissing Wanda.

“Your ankle won’t stop us, bunny,” Wanda looks at you with shining eyes.

Your face heats at the nickname that’s only familiar to you in the woman’s native language. The women chuckle at the pigment of your skin.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when my lips don’t hurt and I can kiss you properly,” you try once again standing on your own.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Wanda lets her eyes fall to your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Stop teasing, and help me get ready for bed. This has simultaneously been one of the best and one of the most painful days of my life. Truly unforgettable.”

Natasha speaks first, “I’ll get some stuff ready for a shower.”

“I’ll help you to the bathroom,” Wanda finishes.

It’s an all too similar feeling as you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter with Wanda standing between your legs.

Her fingers play with the end of your shirt. She looks at you for permission and you give her a light nod.

Slowly as to not aggravate your injuries she takes your shirt off. She’s careful as she unwraps the bandages from your torso.

“You’ll need help in there,” she speaks softly as her eyes scan your body.

“I know,” the pain starts to catch up with you.

Leaning forward slightly you rest your head on her shoulder. She smells good and it calms your nerves.

Wanda can’t help herself as she speaks up, “Isn’t this a familiar scene?”

You raise your head off of her shoulder and smile, “It’s ringing a few bells.”

Natasha enters the restroom with some towels and pajamas, “I’m going to get some food going, if you guys are alright in here?”

Wanda nods, “I’ve got her, Nat.”

Natasha nods and proceeds to exit the bathroom, “Just holler if you need me.”

Wanda steps away from you to turn the shower on. She’s back in front of you in no time.

“How do you want to do this?”

You feel nerves as you speak, but you try to sound objective, “I think you should join me. Not because I want to see you, not that I don’t want to see you. Its just I can’t really stand and-”

She quiets you down by pulling her own shirt over her head. Her feet pad against the bathroom floor as she makes her way back over to you. Wanda’s hands place themselves on the top of your pants. Her movements are slow but sure as she begins to pull them down. She takes extra care when they're around your ankle.

Once they’re off she takes a step back swiftly removing her own pants. The only thing left on both of you is your underwear.

The sound of the shower rings heavily in your ears as you watch Wanda take her bra off. You can’t move even if you want to. Your eyes glance over her chest before following her hands path lower. She’s not teasing as she removes her panties.

Once again you find yourself with her standing between your legs, but this time there was significantly less fabric in the way. She reaches behind you back to place her hands on your bra clasp.

“Y/n, do you mind if-"

“Take it off,” you finish for her.

She does as you say, a shaky breath releases from her. Your bra falls off your shoulder, but you keep looking in her eyes. Her hand slides down from your back and her finger hooks around your underwear.

“Take it off,” you repeat in a hushed tone.

She follows your instructions. Her eyes snap back to yours. The two of you stare in silence. There’s an underlying tenderness to the moment.

Wanda’s hand reach for your waist, “Ready?”

You nod and she assists you off of the counter. The water hits your skin and you sigh. You enjoy the heat against your bruised skin. Wanda’s hands stay in place for a moment just keeping you steady.

It's a silent delicacy as Wanda soaps up a towel and begins to gently clean your skin. You marvel at the lightness of her touch.

She turns you around so you face her. You look down at her and can’t help but brush your nose against hers. You hear her breath hitch. Carefully you use your hand to guide her’s across your body.

Neither of you dwell as she cleans every inch of you intimately. You lean against the shower wall a bit so Wanda has room to wash herself. You take in the details of her body as she cleans herself.

She gets out first and then helps you put the pajamas laid out for you on before dressing herself.

“I love you,” you say it easily when everything is done.

Wanda places a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too.”

Wanda helps you to the kitchen table. Your eyes find Natasha moving about in the kitchen.

“Almost done, I know you’re tired lisichka. We can eat then get in the bed,” Natasha speaks to you.

“Thanks Natty,” you look at her with your hand on your chin.

“Did you re-wrap her torso detka?” Natasha asks her wife.

Wanda snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something.”

“Take over here, and I’ll do it?”

Wanda agrees to these terms. Natasha goes to fetch the medical wrap and quickly returns. You’re sitting down, so Natasha kneels to be level with your torso.

Carefully with tentative hands, she lifts up your shirt. Her hand finds the small of your back, to encourage you to sit straight. You follow her instructions.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”

You’re looking down into her eyes and you momentarily get lost in them. The hues of green draw you in like emeralds.

“Baby,” she says again a little more firm.

You snap out of it and nod, “I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.”

She brings the wrap around your torso multiple times, each time looking for any extensive discomfort in your expression.

When she’s done with your torso, she quickly does your ankle. Your ankle was more sensitive, so she made sure to be extra gentle.

“All set, lisichka,” the woman places a kiss on your forehead as she stands up.

“Food is ready,” Wanda announces bringing plates for the three of you to table.

At this point exhaustion was knocking at your door. You eat in comfortable silence and once you’re finished, they help you to bed.

When your head hits the pillow, you almost fall asleep instantly.

“If I didn’t want to kill him for what he did to my father, I’d kill him for this,” Wanda says to her wife.

“The men involved have been dealt with already,” Natasha relies to her Wanda.

“You work fast malyshka,” Wanda places her hands on Natasha’s hips.

Natasha looks at your sleeping figure, “I’d move at the speed of light for either of you.”

Natasha ends her statement by kissing Wanda.

“I love you,” Wanda pulls the woman closer to her.

Natasha smiles pecking the woman’s lips once more, “I love you too.”

The two of them climb into the bed, making sure to give you adequate space due to your injuries.

“Why does this already feel so natural?” Wanda questions.

Natasha answers instantly, “It’s just meant to be like this. This feels like the final piece to our little puzzle."

Wanda was more than content with that answer, closing her eyes, unable to fight rest.

Somewhat like before, but entirely different at the same time, the three women lay together.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

[monzaaasharl]

Mama McLaren

A/n:: Mark is my favourite F1 dilf. During the making of this I accidentally posted it so this took me even longer than it should have 😝, I also had an insane writer's block, i got this request many months ago and I've only just got around to finishing it. Mixed with this request here!

Pairings:: Mark Webber x Reader, Oscar Piastri x Reader, Lando Norris x Reader

Summary:: Y/n Webber starts to act very motherly towards the McLaren boys

Genre:: Fluff

Warnings:: There aren't any

@pear-1206

Driver x Reader Masterlist Monzaaasharl

It was the third race of the season, but it wasn't just any race, oh no, it was the Australian Grand Prix. Not only was it your husband's home race but also the driver he manages.

Oscar, he was like a son to you with the amount of time he spent with your little family. Well little as in you, your husband, your 21 year old son Noah, and your 17 year old daughter Jasmine.

The Australian Grand Prix was something that the Webber family always looked forward to. And this year, just like the last, you'd be watching the race from the McLaren garage.

"Have you got everything both of you?", you asked your two kids knowing they would forget something.

"Yeah, we've got everything, mum", you received as a response.

"Come on, we don't want to be late now", Mark said knowing fully well there was not a possibily they would be late, but wanted them to get there early to cha to the McLaren boys and give them a small pep talk.

After a peaceful drive in the car through the city, you finally arrived at the paddock.

You made your way through the paddock in your small group, and ended up in the McLaren hospitality.

"How's it goin' you two?" Mark said when he spotted the papaya drivers.

Oscar and Lando both turned around when they heard the familiar voice of the older aussie man.

"Yeah not too bad"

"Everything's going pretty well so far"

"Well we'll just be around if you boys want us", Mark said to both the McLaren boys, not wanting to distract them too much before the race.

"Good luck boys, i know you're going to do amazing", you always felt quite protective over them both.

"Yeah, good luck mate", Noah

"Good luck"

"See ya"

"See you after"

⋆˚✿˚⋆

After an intense Grand Prix and a mix of emotions after seeing Max was out, you found yourself still in the McLaren garage after your husband had left you quickly for the podium ceremony.

Lando had finished third which definitely made you proud, but seeing Oscar so close and just missing out on the podium positions it made you just the slightest bit sad.

When you saw him come back to the garage you made sure to tell him how proud you were of him. He ended up staying with you, Jasmine, and Noah while watching the podium celebrations.

"You did amazing this race, I hope you know that"

"Thank you, I just wish that I could've got onto the podium"

You knew it made him a bit upset knowing he was so close to a podium finish for his home race.

When Mark came back from the podiums he made sure to congratulate Oscar on his race and tell him how well he did even if Oscar didn't feel like he did good enough.

"You did good mate, don't let it bring you down"

"I won't, don't worry"

Oscar made his way to his own family leaving you lot alone.

"Y'know, I always thought after you retired I wouldn't have to worry about someone else racing"

Your husband laughed at your comment and gave you sweet kiss, much to your kids disgust. It didn't matter how old they got, they still didn't like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are all appreciated!

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 16 (18+)

a/n: see, i didn't keep you waiting that long this time. thank you to @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter fifteen here ]

Chapter Sixteen: Of Cuffs and Chan

A wave of embarrassment washes over you—drenches you. You had intentions of being drenched tonight, just not like this. You feel the heat in you rising to your face as your eyes begin to prickle. Chan has now walked out of a room twice to get away from your advances. You have never presumed to be some expert level seductress, but him thwarting your attempts and leaving you alone with your thoughts feels soul crushing.

This was a terrible idea.

How could you have been so incredibly mistaken to think this would work? You have to get up, get out of this room. You hope Chan has at least left the hallway. You don’t want to see him when you leave. You can’t face him again tonight.

You try to blink away the tears, but a few fall down your cheek anyway. You look to the nightstand where you left the key, previously having hoped if he saw fit to uncuff you at some point he could because you obviously can’t do it yourself. You should have read the back of the packaging. It mentioned something about a safety release button. You sit up on the bed, angling your head to inspect the cuffs through your water-blurred gaze. There are enough chain links connecting the cuffs that you have a bit of slack to bring it closer to you.

The sound of the door opening again draws your attention away from the handcuff debacle. You want to be stubborn, to keep your eyes focused on the handcuffs and not turn to see who it is. You wouldn’t put it past him to send Hyunjin to take you away at this point. You’d be mortified for him to see you like this, cuffed and crying.

The door closes and your curiosity gets the best of you. You turn your head slightly and see that it’s Chan. His face is hardened, unreadable. Your heartbeat immediately quickens, but you’re not put at ease by his return.

You sit up straight, back against the headboard, arms hanging above your head and knees still pressed firmly together. You suddenly become aware of the tears on your face and avert your eyes to your knees. You don’t want him to see you like this. Why had you opted for the handcuffs? Now you can’t even wipe the stupid tears from your face.

You sniffle as his footsteps approach, stopping next to you. His room isn’t small by any means, but it feels so tiny now. His presence fills up every square inch. You silently plead with him to say something, anything to drown out the deafening sound of your loudly thumping heart.

You take a deep breath, trying to find all the courage that was within you moments ago as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You could be wrong, but there is a slight softness to his gaze. Hardly noticeable to an untrained eye.  

“If you uncuff me, I can leave,” you say quietly, jerking your head towards his nightstand where the key is. His eyes flit over to it, then back to you.

He remains silent as he takes a closer look at you, eyes roaming over your body. They linger on your exposed breasts before trailing down your lace covered torso and stop at your knees. He leans to the side, head tilted to peek at the gap between your legs. Without any underwear, your pussy is exposed. He lets out a puff of air at the sight.

“Why would I want to do that?” He asks in a low voice.

From his reaction—coming back, staring at you like this, saying he doesn’t want you to leave…that must mean there’s still a chance. At this point, though, you don’t even know what you really want to use the chance for. To win the competition or just to let him have his way with you.

You rock your hips upwards once and his tongue snakes out, licking at the corner of his mouth. He stands up straight and takes a step forward so he’s standing right next to you.

He reaches out with his other hand, gently cupping your face and wiping away the tears on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head into his hand and close your eyes, submitting to his touch. You have the sudden urge to word vomit, to tell him how badly you want him, how much you’ve missed him, how you don’t care about the competition—he can fuck you and you won’t tell anyone. You’ll stay so, so quiet that no one will hear anything. You’ll tell everyone your plan failed just please, please don’t stop touching you.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says, “and look what you do to me, y/n.” He grips his growing bulge through his jeans.

You feel the tiniest bit of relief dousing your worries.

“Do you wanna feel it?” He asks.

You nod eagerly in response.

He grabs the key to the handcuffs from the nightstand and makes quick work of releasing one of your hands. He takes your free wrist in his hand and guides it to the top of his jeans. You fumble with the button, all anxious, excited and nervous at the same time, but eventually slip it through the hole. As you tug down on his zipper, he takes off his hoodie and tosses it to the ground.  

You cautiously slip your hand through the opening in his jeans and cup his dick in your hand. When you give a squeeze, his hand grabs your wrist again, stopping your movements. It was a short-lived freedom but you enjoyed it, nonetheless.

He raises your arm back above your head and slips your hand back into the cuff. He trails his fingers down your wrist, down your arm, down your neck, back and forth across your collarbone, then down some more. The trail he leaves behind makes you burn with desire—your nipples harden just from this light touch and you press your knees together even harder.

“This outfit? The handcuffs? Why?” He asks, stopping his hand just above your breast.

“To fully offer myself to you,” you say slowly. “To relinquish complete control.”

“Is that something you actually want to do?” He counters, hand still hovering above your breast. You want him to touch it so badly. “Or is it just to bring an end to the competition?”

“The first one,” you reply, squirming on the bed, yearning for his touch now that it’s so close to actually happening. “I want to do this with you, not for you or because of the challenge.”

And it’s the truth. In this moment you don’t give a damn about winning anything.

His hand skips over your breast. He brushes the back of his fingers along the lace covering your torso, up your thighs, over your knees, down your legs and you can’t keep still. He skirts around the off-limit areas, so you don’t know what he’s playing at.

His hand leaves you and goes to his pants. He pulls them down along with his boxers, kicking them both aside. At the sight of his cock springing out, you lick your lips in anticipation. It almost feels unreal. This is the closest you’ve been all month, and you want to touch it, taste it, clench around it while it’s inside of you.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks as he grips his cock in his left hand.

It sounds like a loaded question. What is he gonna do with you in this current predicament? Or in general?

“Whatever you want,” you say, licking your lips again, watching him hold his cock. How can he make you feel jealous of him? You want to be the one doing that. You want to touch and please every part of him you’ve been deprived of for weeks.

“Hmm,” he hums, stroking himself while he reaches out to caress your exposed skin again with his right hand—still steering clear of the forbidden zones. “I never really cared much about the competition, you know.”

“Chan,” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from his cock and hand at work, desperate to take on the burden for him.

“Not about winning, anyways,” he continues, fingertips grazing across your body, “It’s more about keeping a firm line between me and my assignee. To make it clear that I don’t need them…don’t need you.”

You look up at him, trying to focus on what he’s saying rather than the way your body is aching for him.

“When this ends…it ends. And normally it’s not an issue,” his tone remains calm, almost warm, as he speaks. “But look at you, y/n.”

His hand finally lands on your breast, gripping it firmly in his palm, squeezing as it slips through his fingers until he has hold of just your nipple. He pinches it, twisting slightly. You gasp softly, arching your back.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he declares.

You could squeal, you could cry, you could fucking die of happiness from his admission. You open your mouth to speak, to beg, but he lets go of your nipple and rests his hand on your knee. He releases his cock and shakes his head.

“Are you trying to ruin me?”

A look of confusion takes over your features at the question. Why would he think that? If anything, you should be asking him that.

“No,” you shake your head, pure innocence radiating from you at the accusation. “I would never.”

His lip twitches and a smirk appears for a split second before he regains his composure. He’s in his element now, enjoying teasing you. His hand on your knee slides down the inside of your thigh, eyes locked on yours. Your body responds immediately, hips jerking as he moves closer and closer to your center.

“You make me feel like I’m going to lose it—go insane,” he says as his hand reaches your pussy. “Do you feel it too?”

He uses his pointer and ring finger to spread your lips apart, stroking between your folds with his middle.

It’s impossible to concentrate on what he’s saying when you finally have him touching you again. You certainly know what he’s done to make you feel like you’re losing it…but what have you done to him?

Before you have a chance to respond, he removes his hand. Without a word, he turns and walks to the bathroom. You watch him, wanting to scream for him to come back to you, to keep touching you.

He walks straight to shower and turns it on. He doesn’t even wait for the water to warm up before stepping in.

He’s going to leave you like this?

Of course he is.

You could find the release button on the handcuffs and leave, but you won’t. This is what he wants from you, and this is what you want to give. Your obedience. So, you stay put, sliding your legs against each other to create some kind of friction between them in the meantime.

You’re not sure how long passes before the water turns off. It doesn’t seem like he wanted to intentionally drag out his time in the shower. Your eyes are on him as soon as he steps out. You watch as he grabs a towel and dries off. You chew on your bottom lip, wondering if he’s going to put on clothes and just sleep with you here next to him like this. Now that you would not be in to. Or would you?

He starts walking towards you, naked, toned, fucking chiseled as he dries his hair. His cock is still hard, and you can only imagine what kind of scenarios were playing out in his head as he showered to keep it that way.  He stops at your side once again, his fresh and clean aroma filling your senses.

He hooks a finger under your chin, tilts your head up, then leans down to kiss you. Just a quick peck. His hand slides around to the back of your neck, lightly stroking the nape before pulling you forward. He grips his cock with his other hand and you part your lips, eager to take him in your mouth.

“Is this what you want?” he asks as he stops pulling you forward, gently wagging his cock in front of you. Like he’s teasing his pet with a treat.

“Yes. Please,” you reply, damn near salivating.

“Please what?”

He pushes his hips forward to close the distance, rubbing the tip of his dick from one side of your chin to the other, stopping just beneath the middle of your bottom lip.

“Please fuck my face, Chan.” You say, looking up at him.  

He pats your cheek and nods. To your surprise he then steps up onto the bed and stands directly over you, feet on either side of you. Now this is a fucking view.

“Open.”

You drop your jaw. Your range of motion is severely limited, being cuffed to the bed and all, so he takes it from there. You swirl your tongue around the tip as he slowly slides it in while groaning, then side to side along the bottom as he goes in further. You’ve missed the taste of him is all you can think.

He stops about two-thirds of the way in and you use the opportunity to take a deep breath, exhaling through your nose. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, gazing down at you as if he’s trying to save the image of your mouth stuffed with his cock to memory.

He pushes forward a little more then withdraws, moving faster each time he repeats the process. You bob your head forward, as much as you can, to meet his thrusts. You focus on keeping your jaw and throat relaxed, meanwhile you’re unable to control the sounds coming from your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans, gripping your hair with one hand as he furiously fucks your face.

You don’t want to imagine how you look—deepthroating Chan, all the saliva that’s built up and spilling out of your mouth and around his dick. It doesn’t sound like a pretty sight, but he seems to enjoy it.

He starts grunting and groaning as he thrusts and suddenly pulls away from you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He releases your hair and steps back before getting on his knees, essentially straddling you, dick hovering just above your stomach. He rests his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. He must have just narrowly stopped himself from coming, is your guess.

“Chan,” you say his name softly.

He turns to look at you, raising a hand to wipe the dribble around your mouth.

“Hmmm?”

“Please touch me,” you try your best to sound like you’re not whining as you rub your legs together.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“Here?” he asks, wrapping his hand around your neck, squeezing it.

You moan in response.

He leans forward to capture your lips, kissing you deeply. His tongue invades your mouth, greedily lapping up the taste of himself on you. You kiss him back, your head slowly following his lead, tilting from left to right as he does the same.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging on it as he pulls away from you. His eyes lock with your for a moment, feeling like less of a mystery than ever before, but you could just be delusional at this point.

He slides back on your legs and rearranges himself until he’s lying flat on his stomach. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and gets comfortable.  

“Incredible,” he says while looking at your pussy.

“Yeah?” You ask, uncertain.

“Fuck yes,” he replies with a curt nod.

He moves his face directly between your legs and takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He nuzzles your pussy with his nose, circling the outside of your lips. You tug on the restraints around your wrists, cursing yourself once more for choosing this particular set up. You want to run your fingers through his damp curls, over his broad shoulders, down his back. But you can’t do any of that.

All you can do is watch. In fucking awe at his uninhibited actions.

He slides his nose up your slit, making it glisten with your slick. You can’t help but shake your legs and thrust your hips forward. He lowers his head again, as if to repeat the same move, but this time his tongue slips out and follows his nose. He laps at you playfully, eliciting moans and silent pleas from you.

When he finally takes you in his mouth completely you gasp. He wastes no time then, licking, sucking, slurping your most sensitive parts. He readjusts himself to slide three fingers inside of you, eyes locked on yours as he does.

“So fucking tight,” he breathes.

You rest your head against the headboard and resist the urge to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t look away.

“You like my fingers inside of you, y/n?”

“I do,” you nod.

“Filling you up,” he continues, curling his fingers against your walls each time he withdraws. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Chan,” you say his name as a warning as your arch your back.

He stops talking and puts his mouth back to work. He keeps fucking you with his fingers while he sucks on your clit.

“I’m. Gonna. Come,” you manage to get out between panting.

He doesn’t acknowledge your statement; doesn’t make you ask for permission and you take that as a sign to let go. You rock your hips against his fingers and face as you come, biting your bottom lip to keep from being too loud but it doesn’t work. You don’t know what time it is or if anyone can hear.

Chan keeps at it until you start squirming your hips away from his touch.

He chuckles as he resurfaces, nose and mouth glistening. He takes his fingers out of you, spreading them apart and watching as your juices stretch between them. He reaches forward, offering them to you. You open your mouth to accept, circling your tongue around them clockwise, greedily cleaning each digit.

When he takes his fingers out, he sits up, positioning himself so the back of your thighs rest on the front of his, legs hanging on either side of him. His eyes dance across your body again, hands moving up to grip your breasts. He kneads them, pinching the nipple each time he gets to the top.

“Can I keep you here like this?” He asks teasingly, a playful glint in his eyes.

You don’t trust yourself to respond. You’d say yes, and you don’t know if he’s serious or not, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He says again to your silence.

“Fuck me,” you suggest.

He lets out a breath, trailing one hand down your torso, scratching at the fabric of your lingerie with his nails. His hands start moving you, turning you onto your side then once more until you’re on your stomach. The chain between the handcuffs become twisted, restricting your hand movements even further. He grips your hips and pulls you up until you’re on your knees. He holds you in this position, pressing himself against you and rocking his hips forward.

He leans down over you, his chest against your back and it’s so fucking warm. You close your eyes at the feeling of him covering you. His right hand releases your waist to prop a pillow up in front of you to lean against. It’s these little details that remind you and allow you to see how thoughtful he can be. Granted, it’s while he’s having his way with you, but on some level he’s still concerned with your comfort.

He kisses along your shoulder blades, to your neck and stops at your ear.

“Bite the pillow,” is his whispered command.

You shiver and hold onto the headboard for dear life. His right hand grips your shoulder while the other remains at your hip. You feel him shift around behind you until his dick is positioned right against your opening. He grips your shoulder as he enters you and a long, slow moan escapes your lips.

His hand on your shoulder moves to your neck, forcing you down towards the pillow.

“Bite,” he repeats.

You open your mouth and clamp your teeth around the pillow in front of you as Chan starts to relentlessly plow into you from behind.

The pillow serves its purpose, suppressing the loud sounds you’re making as he fucks you. He slams into you quick and fast at first, resting inside for a moment before pulling out and slamming right back in. Then he picks up the pace, thrusting in and out at his own rhythm, releasing your hip to slap your ass every so often before gripping it again to force you back against him.

Your face is contorted against the pillow, and you don’t even care that you’re drooling all over it with your mouth clamped around it.

“Can you come for me again?” He asks, reaching around with his hand to rub your clit between your legs.

The way Chan is making you feel is insurmountable. Pussy dripping, walls stretched with him inside of you. And it’s been so long. Too long. You give a nod and he pulls out all stops, the sound of your thighs smacking against each other echo throughout the room accompanied by your muffled moans.

Your pussy clenches around him as you come. You bend down even lower, arching your back and bouncing your hips against his as you do.

“Fuck yeah. Take it,” he groans. “Make it yours.”

Encouraged by his words you thrust back against him even harder, gripping onto the headboard for leverage. You lift your head and release the pillow from your mouth, tossing your hair back over your shoulder. Chan seizes the opportunity to grip your hair in his hands, forcing your head upwards as you keep fucking him.

He starts meeting your thrusts, one hand on your hip pulling you back against him with all his might. You feel him tense up behind you and he quickly withdraws. In an instant you feel his warm release coating your back. He groans with each spurt that pours out of him.

He smacks your ass once more for good measure before allowing you to collapse onto the bed—as much as you can with your hands still cuffed. He takes a foot off the bed and leans over to grab something before you feel him wiping his come off your back. He then grabs the key to the cuffs and unlocks each wrist. You twirl them around and stretch each finger once they’re free.

You didn’t know before how much you needed that. Needed him. You wonder, for a brief moment, if the closeness you shared will go away now. Will he stop talking to you and sharing things about his life now that he can just fuck you and call it a day again?

He splays out on the bed, laying on his back as he catches his breath.

“I lost,” he announces.

“Are you upset?” You ask, turning on your side to face him.

“Upset?” He repeats. “No…concerned? Maybe.”

You feel like you could ask him to explain that more and he would. But you don’t, you’re afraid of the answer. A part of you wants to remain in this delusion. Though the Fall semester is coming to an end, you still have the Spring semester to get through. You don’t want to acknowledge or even think about what the end of the school year will mean for the bonds you’ve built with Chan, Hyunjin, and the others.

Not right now.

You scooch over closer to him.

“Is this okay?” You ask—meaning, should I go back to my own bed?

He’s silent for a few seconds, but then his arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer.

“Do you want to take that off?” He asks, pulling at the strap of your lingerie.

“Are you tired of looking at it?”

“Nah,” he says. “You could wear that every fucking day and I wouldn’t get tired of seeing you in it. You look amazing.”

You’ve never heard so many compliments from him in one sitting. You snuggle up closer to him, hooking one leg over his. You stifle a yawn as your adrenaline levels return to normal, reminding you of the long weekend and even longer day you’ve had.

“Chan?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He chuckles loudly at that. The sound enters your ear against his chest and fills you with a foreign warmth. As much as you worry that his guard will go back up, you’re growing even more terrified of him bringing it down and letting you in.

On the 1st of December, Lee Know is crowned champion. He abstained—much to Allie’s chagrin. She swears she’ll never offer anal sex to him again since he wanted to be so stubborn.

The other members congratulate you with literal pats on the back and head as if you’ve accomplished something major. Chan seems to take it all in stride. He doesn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed that he lost in the slightest. He woke up the next morning and wrote his name on the board before you both headed to class together.

You, Charlotte, and Rhiannon have won your trips. Wherever you want to go. As you mull it over the next couple days, you decide to use it for winter break, knowing your parents won’t be home.

Lee Know also just so happens to be in charge of getting everything coordinated for you.

“You get to take one member,” he advises you, sitting next to you on the sofa as he absentmindedly scrolls through the TV channels.

“That I’m assigned to?”

“Any, really but…I guess it would be awkward if you took someone else.” He says with a smirk. “Is this your way of asking me to come with you?”

You arch an eyebrow before rolling your eyes. Though you’ve gotten even, you still haven’t forgiven him for teasing you.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then.” He shrugs. “Your loss. But I need to know the name of who you’re taking to book flights.”

“Hyunjin,” you say without missing a beat.

The thought of spending winter break on a warm, sunny beach sounds amazing. Did you just have an unforgettable night with Chan? Yes. But you want to enjoy your time on vacation and not be fraught with worry or second guessing everything you do. You know Hyunjin will put you at ease in every way possible.

“You might want to run that by him,” he replies. “I think he’s planning to go back to Seoul.”

You rack your brain for any conversation you’ve had with him recently where it was mentioned but can’t come up with any. The boy hates making plans so much he can’t even remember when he actually has them. He’s lucky he’s so fucking adorable.

“What if they both are? Can I go alone?”

“This trip is funded by our allowances,” he explains, “You have to go with one of us. Maybe choose different dates?”

You scrunch up your face at the thought. You had your heart set on this impromptu Christmas vacation.

“Talk to Hyunjin and Chan, then let me know.”

You nod and stand from the couch.

“Y/N?” He calls out to you as you start to walk away. You turn back around to face him. “Tread lightly.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Chan has never lost this competition before and I don’t know what’s going on between you two but…there’s only one way for this to end.”

“And how is that?”

“With you on your own,” he shrugs. “Chan, Hyunjin—none of us can have any contact with you after the school year is over. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. Especially Chan.”

You’re puzzled at his frankness. Lee Know cares? About anything? But also, you don’t think Chan is capable of hurting. He can be wounded, sure, and lash out. But hurt? Like, actually feel feelings? And because of you? No way.

But as you think back to the night you got him to break…maybe his façade is failing him. Maybe his walls are coming down. Well, fuck. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now you’re not sure if it’s such a good idea or not. You have no doubt he’ll do what he’s supposed to when this is all over—leave you. But what will you do? Can you move on from both him and Hyunjin without ever looking back?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tell him before turning back around and walking towards the stairs.

Yes, you will keep it in mind. In the furthest, deepest corner of your mind. Right now, you want to focus on enjoying the time you have left with both of them.

a/n: a lot to unpack there. hope you enjoyed! like, comment & reblog to show your support. i am working on the next chapter already, however next week i'm having all the carpet in my house replaced with wood flooring and am not sure how much time i'll have to write with all that chaos going on.

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog / @yjeonginlvr / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @bangtancultsposts / @jenniferlr / @hynxnelly / @kpop-kink / @okkkcausewhet /

[endless-ineffabilities]

So High School (1/2)

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : the one wherein the reader and Bucky navigate the initial stages of falling in love, and well, it feels a whole lot like high school <3

themes : friends to lovers, slight jealousy, Bucky and the reader are Avengers, everyone is alive!

word count : 2k ▪︎ masterlist

a/n : inspired by Taylor Swift's So High School - that song makes me so fuckin happy I can't even begin to explain it... This oneshot is all giddy and warm, kind of like when you have a crush, playfulness and jealousy abound 💙

You are almost certain that you left your beloved leather jacket back on the quinjet.

The mission made you exhausted, like they always do, and you remember taking your jacket off and settling in for a nap on the ride back to the Avengers compound.

"FRIDAY, is the quinjet still at base level?" you ask aloud to the compound's omnipresent AI overseer.

She chimes in straight away, "Yes, the quinjet is undergoing routine checks downstairs."

"Well," you say to yourself, "I could use the walk."

FRIDAY speaks again, unprompted, "There is one James Buchanan Barnes heading to your door right now."

Bucky? "Oh, right now?"

"Yes, he'll be knocking in 3... 2... 1..."

And sure enough, he does.

You open the door to his sheepish, easy smile. FRIDAY would definitely be picking up on your vitals, noting your clammy hands and jumping heartbeat.

You desperately hope that she would shut up about it, otherwise you might just literally throw hands with Tony.

"Hi," he greets. Just that - just 'hi' - and he has you blushing like a schoolgirl. Damn it.

"Hey," you reply. Glancing down, you realise that he has just what you're looking for.

The jacket. You mean your jacket. Mind out of the gutter, you kick yourself internally.

"I, uh, think you left this back at the - "

" - the quinjet."

"Right, and I, well - " he stammers, and you don't understand why, when you're clearly the nervous one here.

"You're... here to give it back to me," you help him out, smiling.

"Yeah," he nods, smiling back at you. Leaning against your doorframe, he stays right in place, and you suddenly feel conscious by the way he's just looking at you.

"Uhm, Bucky?" you break the silence after a while, anxiously laughing.

"Yeah, doll?"

"My jacket?" you hold out your hand expectantly.

"Oh, here," he quickly hands it over to you, and you thank him. But he stays, rubbing the back of his neck, brows furrowed in thought. "Listen, I was wondering if - "

"There you two are!" Sam's booming voice startles you, and you spot him walking down the hall. "Debriefing time, kids, come on."

"Oh, right," you groan, tossing your jacket somewhere behind you. Shutting your door, you turn to Bucky, "Sorry, Buck, can it wait?"

"Can what wait?" Sam butts in, ears like a bat. He nudges Bucky with his shoulder, and you swear you see Bucky glare at him, while blushing all the while.

"Nothing," he mumbles and the three of you make your way towards the elevators. When Sam becomes distracted by some new panelling Tony installed recently, you catch Bucky's eye, and shrug as if to say - you can tell me later.

He simply nods. When the doors open, you feel his hand on the small of your back, guiding you in. Just for the briefest of moments, but it lingers in your mind.

So much so, that Tony tosses a pencil at you during debriefing when you're spaced out and didn't answer his question.

"Daydreaming, princess?" Tony smirks.

"Leave her alone, Tony," Steve comes to your rescue, ever the considerate leader. "She's tired, just like the rest of us."

"Yeah, sure," Tony shrugs. "Or maybe Bionic Man over there is distracting her with all the staring he does."

"Shut up, Tony," Natasha protests, catching your surprised look.

"I'm not staring," you hear Bucky say.

"Oh, man, you stare all the time. At everything," Sam counters. "Especially at her."

"No. I don't."

"Yes, you do. Doesn't he, Steve?" Sam laughs, twisting around to share the joke with Steve, who just fondly shakes his head, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

Your mouth feels dry, face flushed from the suggestive bickering partially at your expense, and when you ask, "Alright, alright, what was your question, Tony?"

Tony cheekily smirks, and says, "Quick, Barnes, look away."

"Oh, god," you tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling.

It's a collective, "Tony!" that followed, likely from Steve and Nat. Possibly Bruce, too.

Tony asks you again, something about the safety measures in place for the civilians left behind.

When you answer his question, you can't help but feel a certain pair of blue eyes looking at you.

But that means nothing, right? Bucky's just listening to whatever you have to say. The mission had been important, after all.

Five minutes later, in the middle of Bruce's explanation, you feel it again.

So you look to the side, only slightly, catching Bucky quickly turning to draw his attention back at Bruce.

Oh.

"What are you smirking at me for?" you approach Natasha, while tightening your hand wraps. Some of the Avengers have convened for routine combat practice. You've been looking forward to it, mostly being cooped up in the two weeks after the recent mission.

Natasha sports her signature knowing look when she says, "You're paired with Barnes today, milochka moya."

"Bucky? And?" you clear your throat, and you clock Bucky and Sam entering the gym in your periphery. Is it just you or did your voice just crack? No, it couldn't have.

There's no reason to be nervous, no reason at all.

Sure, he'll get all sweaty and he'll have to get his hands on you and he'll get close... very close... pressed against...

"I see I've lost you already," Natasha is quick to note. "And we haven't even started yet."

Wanda joins you, greeting with, "Did you know you'll be paired with Barnes today?"

Oh my god. You exclaim, "Why is everyone making a big deal out of it?"

"Because," is all Wanda responds with.

"Thanks, Wanda," you nod sarcastically. "Thank you both. Can we just get this over with?"

"Guys?" you call out loudly, addressing everyone in the room.

"Yes, everyone. It is best if we start," Vision says, him being the supervisor for training today. Leave it to an all-knowing entity to be well-versed in every fighting art in existence.

He reads off the combat pairings for the day, and their assigned fighting style.

Clint and Nat, krav maga.

Wanda and Sam, aikido. Though to be fair, she doesn't really need to use her fists should it come to that. Wanda's powers were beyond your comprehension. This is mostly just a fun little exercise for her.

And finally, Vision says your name followed by Bucky's, with the fighting style of jiu-jitsu.

That damned close-contact sport. You're well-trained in it, thanks to your job, but it involves a lot of straddling and the opponent heavily breathing down on your face. It wasn't exactly your first choice out there in the field.

But here? Well, it seems like you don't really have a choice.

Well, you do. And would you really choose otherwise?

Close contact with Bucky?

"Hey, doll," he walks right over, all prepped and ready. Clad in a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants. One look at him and you know you're not likely to survive this training session.

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" you cheekily say, as you to walk over to your designated area of the room with him right on your tail.

He smiles, mumbling something which sounded like, " - let you do anything you want to me."

"I'm sorry?" you blurt out, occupying yourself with the control panel for the instructional hologram.

"Nothing," he bites his lip. Oh, he just knows you heard him.

"Okay, so - " The hologram starts right up, showing faceless figures go through a standard combat routine. Ankle sweep. Closed guard. Arm bar. Back and forth until someone taps out. Then all over again.

"Fun," you remark, moving to circle him on the mat. "Give it your best shot, Barnes."

He makes the first move, trying to sweep your leg with his own and failing. You're too quick for that. As long as you don't get sidetracked by that shit-eating smirk on his face, you'll be just fine.

He rushes at you again, but you jump out of the way. You manage you hook your leg around his torso, and use your whole weight to force him down on the mat.

You end up with one knee pressed to his chest, your forearm applying the slighest pressure on his throat. It's an easy position to counter, and he should be propelling you off of him already. Maneuvering your arm out of the way. Something. Anything.

But the man just stares.

You'll be damned, but Sam was right.

"Bucky, come on," you snap.

Instead of a countermove, he hits you with something more disarming. "You look good up there," he says.

"What?"

"I like the view," he only adds, speeding up the rush of warmth to your face.

Your body goes slack, and your pressure on his neck eases. You struggle to think of something nonchalant, something blasé to say in turn, when he takes advantage of the moment and flips the two of you over.

He ends up on top of you, legs caging you in, hands gripping your wrists by the sides of the face.

"Shit," you curse when you realise what just happened. "Well played."

"Thanks," he responds. "I meant it though, you do look pretty. Like always."

"Another trick, Buck?" You attempt to play it cool. Maybe you can play off the obvious flush on your face as physical exertion. Not whatever this is. Not because of him.

He only smiles, getting back on his feet and extending a hand out to you.

"Not a trick," he says, as you both get ready for the next round.

"I'd say I'm flattered, if you weren't trying to beat me in hand-to-hand combat."

"Doll, I think it's safe to say that you won already," he says, his gaze softening.

What is he on about? "Uhh, no, that was barely anything. We're supposed to keep going."

His brows furrow, though his smile stays in place, albeit a bit strained. "That's not what I meant," he exhales, reaching forward to attempt a restricting hold.

His expression turns serious then, steely gaze boring into you, analyzing your every move. He lunges at you, and you block him. But he tries again and again, each move more precise and forceful.

He steps back to take a breath, and you use the opportunity to sweep his ankle, but he sees it coming. In a flash, he pulls your arm and twists you around so that your back is pressed to his chest. You wrangle against him, making him fall on his back, but he keeps his hold on you.

His metal arm encases your torso with your arms pinned to your sides, and his legs wrap around yours. Air rushes out of you in shaky pants, and you move your head to the side, the only part of you still mobile.

And he's right there, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek. The tension is almost too much to bear, because you feel all of him - the solid planes of his torso, the coarseness of his facial hair growing out - and for the love of all things sacred, you hope you don't accidentally wriggle your ass against his crotch.

Bucky wishes so too. He would never be able to live that down, especially if one of the others would come around and notice.

"Do you yield?" His voice is rough, commanding against your ear. Even though it's nothing more than an assertive whisper, a shiver runs through your body.

"Y-yes," you muster, "I yield."

He keeps his hold on you a moment longer, and before you can ask him if something's wrong, and why he's not letting you go yet, he releases you.

And it doesn't bring you relief, surprisingly. Almost as if you just want to go right back into his embrace.

As you two get back on your feet, Vision's sudden appearance almost makes you keel over, startling the living daylights out of you.

"That was good," Vision comments.

"What the - Vis!" you place a hand on your chest to calm down. "Maybe announce yourself when you show up please!"

"But I've been standing here for approximately 37 seconds," he expertly says.

"Okay, well - "

"You both did not notice me," he goes on, matter-of factly. "Perhaps it might have something to do with your sheer focus on one another - "

"Okay, Vision, thank you," you attempt to intervene, to no avail.

" - which is good. In combat, you do need to stay hypervigilant. Although, might I comment, that the sudden increase in arousal hormones is not really conducive to battle - "

"Vision!" you and Bucky exclaim in unison.

Thankfully, Wanda notices and comes to your rescue, "O-kay, Vis, why don't you come and check mine and Sam's progress, hmm?"

"Of course," Vision complies immediately and they walk away hand in hand. Must have something to do with his undying penchant for Wanda.

Wanda throws you an apologetic shrug, before her eyes get drawn downward to something else near you, and she has to bite her lip to hold back a giggle.

You feel Bucky's hand take hold of your waist, ever so gentle, and everything else is quickly forgotten.

"You okay?" he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

He stands close, and you catch a hint of his scent, sandalwood and mint, layered beneath a musk that can only be undeniably Bucky.

You hum in affirmation. Shaking you head, you respond with, "Vision was just being... Vision. Can never keep his observations to himself." His thumb moves, caressing lightly at your waist, the movement seemingly instinctive for him.

"Yeah, well," he smiles to himself, before reaching up and tucking back a stray lock of hair from your face, "the thing about that droid is... he doesn't lie."

He steps back, rolling his shoulders, getting ready for another bout of combat. As if he didn't have you subdued already.

"He wasn't lying about me, at least," he smirks, before getting into a stance and putting his arms up.

Feeling brave, because there's no way you're going to come out of this interaction as the only one flustered, you respond with, "He wasn't lying about me, neither."

Bucky doesn't expect that, used to being the suave and cockier one out of this dynamic. His fighting stance loosens, and he barely croaks, "What?"

Gotcha.

It doesn't take long for you to sweep him off his feet.

When you're left straddling him once more, you hit him back with, "I like the view."

He bites his lip, and then laughs, flushed and impressed.

Still on the ground, staring up at you, he decisively ends the match, the final blow too much for you to bear. Because he settles for saying, "Still doesn't beat my view, beautiful."

After more than an hour of fidgeting around your room, clothes strewn everywhere and music blasted to calm you down, you were finally ready.

Bucky had asked you what you were doing for the weekend, and you said you didn't have anything in mind, but asked him if he wanted to watch a movie in the common lounge with you.

He eagerly agreed, before you two were interrupted by Sam mentioning something about new upgrades to Red Wing.

So you didn't get to clarify what the nature of the plan was. Likely it was just another hangout. It wouldn't be the first time you and Bucky watched a movie together, went on excursions on your motorbikes, or headed out to grab some sushi.

Save for Natasha and Wanda, he's the one you spend the most time with.

And none of those times ever was a date.

But you feel nervous as you walk down the hallway. You've been nervous all the while you spent getting ready, unable to choose the right top, and eventually settling for a V-neck cobalt blue shirt that he once said he liked on you.

You're nervous because tonight could be it. You've taken it upon yourself to finally ask him.

Ask him what exactly? Whether he likes you as someone more than a friend? Whether there is a reason to all that staring that he does?

Whether he wants to kiss you as badly as you want to kiss him?

So, something along those lines.

He's standing right around the entrance to the common lounge, and you immediately think at how sweet it is that he's waiting for you.

Until he broke the news.

"Doll, I - " Bucky says, right after you come into view. "Oh, wow, you look great."

Smiling widely, you look down like it was nothing, like you didn't just spend the last hour worrying. "Thanks, Buck."

"Uhh, I have something to tell you, actually. You remember Yori? The man from - "

"Of course I remember him," you nod, now confused at what he's getting onto.

"Yeah," he hesitates, not sure he wants to speak further. All he wants is to spend the night curled up in the lounge with you, but all that is gone when he continues, "he kind of set me up on a date."

"A date?" your stomach sinks.

"With Leah. You know Leah? The girl who works at the restaurant that we go to sometimes with Yori?"

"Yeah," you shrug and look away, hoping your expression doesn't give away too much, "I know who she is. So you have a date, huh?"

"Tonight," he confirms. "I didn't... didn't even ask her, really. But last night at dinner, Yori asked and she heard and said yes - "

"She's really lovely. This is good, Buck."

"Yes, but we made plans, and I didn't want to - "

"No, don't worry about it." you put your palms up, as if to show him that you take the situation lightly. It was no problem, after all. He has to go on this date. You can watch movies together any time.

"Doll," he sighs. "I was actually thinking that, since we had plans already, you could come with me? I'm sure she would understand - "

"Bucky," you laugh dryly, "I am not crashing your date."

"But - "

"No buts," you have to affirm. "You have a date, so it has to be just you and her."

He purses his lips, nodding. He tries to gauge your expression, whether you're pissed at him or anything, but he's only met with a reassuring smile.

"What time is your date?" you ask.

"In about 40 minutes," he replies, giving you a good once-over again, taking you in fully. You really looked good, and he wants nothing more than to just stare at you the whole damn night. If only he wasn't so polite. If only he had the guts to just turn Leah down.

His face falls when you say, "I guess you better go," with a hint of enthusiasm, not knowing that it's your attempt at putting on a brave face.

"What will you do?" he asks.

"I don't know," you shrug. "I'm sure I'll find something. The others are mostly around so - "

"Hey!" Steve rounds up the corner, still clad in his riding jacket, having returned from outdoors.

"Going somewhere, you two?" Steve asks, his signature congenial smile in place.

"Not me," you respond, smiling back. "But Bucky here has a date actually."

"A date?" Steve says, taken aback. Did Bucky not tell him about this? He looks between the two of you, trying to put things into place, "Do you mean - ?" He trails off, gesturing at you.

"No!" A nervous laugh bubbles out of you. Of course, not with you. You wish.

"Really?" Steve makes a face, like the thought of Bucky going on a date with someone else was ridiculous, but he quickly collects himself. It's none of his business, for now. But he'll surely grill his bestfriend on it later.

"Don't you have to leave, Buck?" you turn to him. "You don't want to keep Leah waiting."

"Yeah, I suppose I should. I'll, uh, talk to you later, okay?" He says, taking a few measured steps back. Not wanting to turn away, and have you out of his sight.

"Sure," you smile, but it's weak and you know it is. Watching him walk away, you can no longer hide the disappointment you feel.

Bucky is still within earshot when you turn to Steve and innocently ask, "Are you busy, Steve? Care to watch a movie in the lounge?" Steve of course agrees, and lets his arm drape around you.

Bucky knows that you and Steve are just friends. Steve has gotten a hint of how he feels about you, and far be it from him to take his friend's girl.

But it doesn't quell that sinking feeling, when he looks back. He sees you smiling up at Steve, as the two of you disappear into the lounge.

It's going to be a long night.

[endereies]

One More Day - Matt Sturniolo

contains: Mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of depression and anxiety, happy ending, heavy angst - sorry not sorry

author's notes: i really enjoyed writing this, especially with sad music like take care or duster playing. that shit hits.

word count: 3954

Dealing with mental health wasn’t a new situation in your relationship with Matt. He has had anxiety problems since he was 11 and has always been open about it, whether that was to his family or to his fans. However, that was a skill that you lacked.

Matt was always talking to you whenever he felt anxious in a situation, finding that his concerns seemed to lessen when he was around you. He had often silently latched on to your hand in a public environment as he focused on the warmth between your palms.

He confided in you after a stressful day of filming and taking pictures addressing how he particularly felt in each moment.

And you would always accept these small rants of anxious build up because you didn’t want him to feel the same way that you did.

You had internally struggled with your own anxiety for a few years, more recently symptoms of depression.

You never told Matt about any of this, not that you didn’t trust him with the information, you just didn’t want to overbear him when he had his own anxiety to manage.

You blamed yourself for selfish thoughts whenever he felt anxious at the same times as you, often relying on the same hand holding that he did to simultaneously calm you both down.

Over these years of having anxiety, you learnt what your tells were when feeling anxiety build up inside and tried to hide them whenever you could. And when you couldn’t? You’d hide in your room and cancel plans until that overbearing feeling went away.

-

This type of day had grown to be typical for you, one that consisted of a growing pit in your stomach caused by emotions you no longer felt in control of. You were left in your bed scratching at your wrists, the actions only growing harder the more you couldn’t satisfy the ‘itch’ that tore through under your skin. One left behind from previous nights.

As much as anxiety wasn’t a new feeling to you, your self-harm methods were. Of course, you had known about it, and how bad it was to deal with. The addiction of the lines that changed colour the more the razor dug into the flesh, or the harshness of reality that stepped in and out of your mind. It wasn’t enough to deter you and last night you gave in once more. Wanting to feel something else consistently other than that pit that sunk more every day.

The feeling was addictive, but it grew harder to hide from people, especially Matt. The constant handholding or affection made you paranoid and so you pulled back from him. You didn’t want him to find out.

The more you pulled back, however, the more that Matt grew concerned.

You had overheard him talking to Chris and Nick about how he thought you were starting to fall out of love with him, but to you those accusations couldn’t be further from the truth. To you Matt was a break from that feeling, making you smile subconsciously on days when all you wanted to do was turn off from everything. It was selfish the amount of time you craved with him, selfish the amount of things you wouldn’t tell him, selfish the number of times you cancelled plans made in advance over something you desperately needed to control.

But as much as you loved him, and had tried to privately talk to professionals, this feeling grew way more than you had ever wanted, and it had begun to wear you and others down.

-

“Are you cancelling again, y/n? We’ve had this day planned for a week now.” Matt voice was tainted with disappointment, and it took me a while before I got the courage to respond to him.

“I’m sorry Matt, something just came up and it’s urgent.” My breathe shook after I had finished, hating the more lies I had created the last month.

“Can I at least come over tomorrow..?” As much as I didn’t want to, I felt like I needed to see him, in a hope that I would feel somewhat better.

“Yeah, course..” And with that I hung up the phone, before either of us got another chance to speak.

That night I got to writing, the mood from earlier spilling over my brain and into my tears that were evident on the paper. The words were messy but said all I needed them to. I just hoped that whoever read it, understood all I was ever silently saying to them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough.

-

After a rough night’s sleep and a few hours in bed I dragged myself out of it and towards the shower. I sighed once my skin made contact with the water trying to relax my arm under the sting of the water pressure.

 I made sure not to spend more time than I had to in the shower, needing enough time to get dressed and get something to eat before Matt arrived.

The outfit didn’t seem like much, but it did hide a lot more. I grabbed an old hoodie and tossed it over a plain black t-shirt. The sweatpants I threw on matched my shirt and hung loosely on my hips.

Dishes has started to stack up in my sink, but I wasn’t prepared to wash them all and I was thankful that Matt never minded, as long as we were able to talk with one another. The food I picked out was just a small bowl of cereal that I have had for several days now but it was one of the only foods I was okay with eating. I felt too tired to finish the bowl and simply abandoned it next to the identical unfinished bowl over by the sink.

It wasn’t long before I heard a knock at my front door, and I instantly knew it was Matt. I gathered my mind and opened the door for him with a smile on my face.

“Hey baby, how was the ride over?” I shut the door behind him after he enters to lean on the door to take off his shoes.

“Traffic was okay, I’m just glad I get to see you again” As much as I know he meant well, his words stung a bit and made my heart drop slightly. Luckily, his back was still facing me, and he couldn’t see it happen.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you yesterday” Matt’s body faces mine once he pushes his shoes to the side and walks towards me with a meek smile displayed on his face.

“y/n, it’s okay, things come up. I get it.” He put his arm around my waist and rubs my waist lightly, just caressing the skin underneath, I pull away as quick as the touch begin and I feel his touch linger onto my skin, making my guilt apparent.

I wander around the kitchen for a moment, thinking of an excuse for leaving Matt until my eyes fall onto a selection of sodas and drinks.

“Want anything to eat or drink at all..?” my fingers trace the glass bottles slowly before landing onto the cans and picking a Pepsi.

“I’ll have a Pepsi with you, baby.” I smile as I hand him a Pepsi with my free arm and taking it back once I realise, I wasn’t watching how far my sleeve went up. I was grateful that he wasn’t paying any attention.

-

It had been an hour since Matt arrived and we had settled on watching a film, one that Matt had picked out several times before, but we never got bored of it. My duvet covers were shifted around to place both Matt and I underneath for comfort, but I took it as an opportunity for Matt to get close to me without being consumed with paranoia.

His fingers tangled in my hair and gently rubbing my scalp nearly nulled me to sleep. I felt safe enough to relax my body for the first time in over a week and my body ached after being tense for so long.

The feeling of his fingers stroking my hair brought me back to my childhood, one where I felt safely vulnerable in front of my mother who allowed me to watch cartoons while she braided my hair. Moments like these took away from the stress of those previous weeks.

“Do you want me to brush your hair, pretty girl?” I look up at him and weakly nod, feeling a little tired from him stroking my hair.

I have always loved when he plays with my hair and it became a token of affection after long days, and often I would return the favour whenever he asked.

He nods at me with a slight hum for a response before his body shifts under the covers. I sit up and lean off of his chest so that he can leave the bed. I take his place in the bed soon after just so that I can retain the warmth he left behind.

I notice him walking over to my desk and resting his wrists against the top of my chair as support while he scans it for my brush. I don’t pay any attention to it until he moves a drawer, not being able to locate it.

“Baby? It might be in the spare room; I was tidying there in there a while ago.” I try not to mumble within the tiredness I felt and offer him a small smile which he reciprocates.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a second then, want to pause the film?” I only nod in response, looking on the pillows for the remote to pause the show and once it does, Matt disappears to the hallway.

Matt’s Pov:

The spare room door was already open, and I simply pushed it open to glance into the room, the door was immediately put to a halt when it hit a box behind it. Luckily, I had enough of a gap to go through but I was met with more boxes and random items everywhere. This was so unusual for me to see in y/n’s house; she was persistent over how the house had looked and presented itself.

I stand among the clutter before focusing on what I entered the room for, yet once again it wasn’t obvious to me.

The boxes seemed to be filled with clothes and the items were old art projects I had seen her buy for fun, so I crossed those areas off as places to look.

I had been in this room before, yet it seemed so unrecognisable from the other places in the house I had been so used to over the years of knowing y/n. But the large white bookcase was still a standout against the dark blue walls. They didn’t seem as scattered as the rest of the room and so finding the brush became an easier task. Bright blue stood out against the white and I walked towards it to grab it, but I noticed a small stack of papers laid next to it. All folded sporadically with names scribbled all over them. It shouldn’t have peaked my interest but I had never known y/n to journal or write to people, so curiosity got the better of me. The top where names of family members, ones that even I knew well, but once I got through family members, I saw my name in a section next to Nick’s and Chris’s.

It stayed shut in my hand for me moment, my eyes not even deterring to place the pile back onto the shelf. The handwriting seemed rushed and scribbled and it only made me question these actions more. I shouldn’t have looked at the paper and I had already felt guilty for it, before it even happened.

I shouldn’t have opened it.

I started to read the letter to myself, and I sat on the spare bed on the small section that wasn’t already covered with the boxes and my heart sank.

Matt, I am so sorry for doing this, to you or anyone else. I’m still not sure about what I might do but I know that you’d want closure if I did. It’ll make itself clear. And I hope the main point you get from this is that this was never your fault.

I’ve just been feeling so shitty for weeks, maybe months at this point and honestly? I don’t see myself getting any fucking better.

Everything is stressing me out every day and it’s limiting everything I do, I can’t go outside often without someone there to ease my anxiety, nor can I even walk freely in my own home without any fear of being watched by people, and I’m rotting.

You were actually the only help I really had, not that you ever knew it.

I wanted us to last a bit longer than this, our three-year anniversary is in a few months but I’ll be lucky to not do this all by September.

I’ve planned a few things for you, love. I’ve saved all my money aside and sold things you would have trouble doing yourself. I didn’t want that burden on you. I wore several hoodies for you to have and slowly given things to you that I know you adore. That necklace you got me a year ago? The one of the gold star with the thin chain? I saved it for you, you were the wish I got from the stars I lay under in my childhood and I never want you to forget that.

I know this is selfish and I’ve done every way to rid of this feeling, good and bad. I’ve talked to people, talked to people who have gone through similar things and even talked to you about what helps you. I even started to harm myself. ‘Stupid’, I know. It only made me hide from you. Everything, from you.

My love, I’m sorry for this last burden on you, but after today you can rest happily without the castaway feeling I’ve shone on you the past few months.

I love you forever, y/n.

Y/n’ Pov:

“Shit, shit, shit” the words come out stuttered and repeat as I fling the covers from over my waist, realizing my errors.

Matt was taking a longer time than usual and when I looked at my phone, I realised it had nearly been ten minutes. I started to be confused and wondered what could’ve delayed him for so long. I mentally scan the spare room while I shift so that I can sit on the edge of the bed. I remember the boxes that were scattered and the things that were a mess compared to the other sections of my house. Was that a call for his curiosity? That’s when it hit me. The notes that I had left on the bookshelf was obvious and open for anyone to see. I started to panic.

I instantly flung the rest of the duvet off of me and slide off the mattress, muttering cuss words under my breath. I approached the spare room with a heavy chest and opened the door to meet Matt who was sat down on the bed with one hand holding his hair and the other gripping onto a slip of paper that I immediately recognised. His tears had dampened the paper similar to how mine did whilst writing, filled with heartbreak and torment.

It takes him a second to calm down enough and acknowledge that I had ran into the room, both of us with lingering heavy chests.

“Wha-” His voice escaped his lips in a raspy stutter.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked more firmly, some sort of emotion, thick in his voice. Though I couldn’t pull apart whether it was anger or betrayal, could’ve been both.

I tried to response but all that I was able to communicate were small stutters. My palms became sweaty, and the anxious feeling grew in my stomach on the brink of physical pain.

“y/n, tell me this isn’t what I fucking think it is.” His tone remained harsh and cold, but his tears made it sound brittle.

I didn’t want to say anything in fear of how Matt would react, but my silence answered his question for him.

“You have this all planned, don’t you?” His voice was unwavering making me shrink back into the corner by the door I entered prior.

“Don’t you.” I jolt when his voice becomes flat, making the only distinguishable teller of his emotions the tears that continued to fall past his cheeks.

My head nods in response, the small action making Matt take another shaky breath and face me dead on. He sucks in a harsh breath before facing me and speaking again.

“What’s going on.. wha- wh-..” His voice trails off with a break in his voice, making me internally wince.

“It’s nothing I just..needed an expel of stress..” My voice is monotonous but its shaking through the lies that we both know aren’t true. I just needed time to gather what I wanted to say to him.

“This is more than nothing, talk to me y/n.” When he stands up, I suddenly feel like a rabbit under a predatory stare and with my back against the wall, I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. He notices a fearful expression in my eyes and creates distance between us, giving me a chance to step forward which I reluctantly took.

I was conflicted between the fear of how he felt towards me and the comfort I found in him, it was tearing me up inside and he could tell my thoughts were scattered. His own thoughts followed.

“Why didn’t you tell me a- any of this.” His words were swallowed harshly, and more tears threatened to spill over and I felt so guilty.

“You have your own shit to deal with. I couldn’t bore you with mine.” I look off to the side with a flat expression overtaken with so many emotions that I had started to shut down.

“Bore me? Baby this is your wellbeing we are talking about. Y-“ He takes a moment to regain his composure again “You could never bore me, especially with something as serious as this” He looks down at the paper, now slightly crumbled from the tight grip Matt had and the tears that fell.

“Is all of this true y/n, I mean the..self-harm”

I take a deep breath and exhale quickly when I nod my head and say yes with a whimper. My palm subconsciously rubs the fabric over my wrist, and I start to shake my hands with the raw shame of what I had done.

“I need you to know something, okay?” I meet his gaze which was full of compassion and for the first time in this conversation, I felt a little safer.

“I’m not mad at you”.

And with that my body practically collapses onto his and I hold his body tight. My arms wrapped around his waist and gripped the fabric while I choked out sobs into his chest. His own hands lay on my back, one holding the paper and the other rubbing the bottom of my neck back and forth. My heart simply broke with the pure kindness Matt still showed for me.

He broke down above me, hearing small sniffles when he lay his head on top of mine. He held most of my weight with his body and he lowered me on the ground and sat next to me, letting my legs rest under the pressure.

“I’d never, ever be mad at you for this, I just wish you came to me to talk about this. Any of it” Some words were mistakenly for others through the tears that ran down his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, i-“

“Hey hey.. look at me.” My eyes try and focus on Matt, but they stutter and shut tight, releasing the tears that blocked my vision. My throat starts to feel tighter and restricts my breathing slightly.

“Don’t apologise, jus- just talk to me.. what’s happened baby”.

I use a free hand to wipe my face and the breathes that I take in are shaky but are enough to relax my body.

“My anxiety just keeps flaring up, to the point where it’s almost constant and in any situation. Its why I’m cancelling so much on you. I keep feeling so guilty whenever I mess up and so after everything built up, I started to- to self-harm and I just kept getting worse. I didn’t want to bother you when you had your own anxiety to cope with” words spill from my mouth in some sort of word vomit, but it was the only way to say what I needed without feeling so overwhelmed.

I had started to scratch at my wrists gently and I didn’t notice until Matt took my hand in his and caressed the skin lightly, his touch allowing me to ground myself.

“Is this why you shut people out?”

“Yeah..it’s why I’ve been cancelling and distant.” I lay my head down onto his, seeking comfort from his touch.

“What can I do?” Calmness starts to rise through his words, getting rid of most the emotion that tore us down a few moments prior.

“What?”

“I want to help you, you don’t deserve this, baby.” The grip on my palm moves to my arm and shoulder and rubs it while pulling me slightly closer.

“You being here is enough. I was so scared to tell anyone about this, I was so paranoid that they would shut me out. But-“ my eyes welled up again but this time it wasn’t for anxiety. I wasn’t shaking anymore, and my throat eased up the pressure, finally letting me take my first stable breath.

“I’ll never leave, I’m always here to listen and talk when you, literally anything you want.”

My hand raises to hug him tighter, but my shirt gets caught on the skin of my scars and makes me wince and pull back.

“Hey, you alright y/n?” he sits up and hold my hand that pulled away from him and grabs the end of the fabric.

“Mhm just pulled some skin I- I’m fine.”

He looks between the hand he holds and my own gaze asking for permission but before he does anything, I pull the shirt back up towards my elbow. I hear a faint gasp from Matt followed by a shaky exhale, realizing the real damage caused by my mental health.

“Let’s bandage this up, yeah?” he stands up beside me and holds his hand before me to help me up, which I oblige.

-

I look at my arm again and my mind clears from my issues. The severity of my actions caused by my own hands. The person I once admired simply was torn through the skin and it was hard for me to look away. I only did when Matt placed his hand on my chin and made me face him, seeing how long I was staring for.

“M’sorry..” a tight-lipped smile crosses his face before he pulls me in for a hug and rubs my back in a soothing way. Falling into a quiet atmosphere.

“I love you, Matt”.

“I love you more, kid.”

We stay in silence for a bit, only breaking it to sniffle from our tears or to adjust ourselves onto one another.

I was finally feeling the peace I craved for months, and I was happy it was with Matt.

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