#desperate raw way that my ears were buzzing and i felt like my head was gonna explode

[lovsome]

i need to vent about SH (tw !!!!!) for a sec in the tags bc i am feeling very overwhelmed sorry

[erwinsvow]

hii shea idk if someone has already made this type of request if that's the case please ignore me but i can't stop thinking about shy!reader absolutely cock drunk asking for the first time rafe to fuck her raw and the question caught him so off guard that he felt feral and dizzy, his composure slipping away just wanting to please his sweet girl<3

hi baby omg no i don't have any reqs like this here it is hope i did it justice <33

rafe was teasing you today.

after more than an hour of back and forth at whatever party you two had gone to for the evening—and only because rafe wanted to sell and your friends had already promised they'd be there—you were more than ready to go home.

except rafe hadn't taken you home yet. instead you'd been all around the house—on rafe's lap in the living room to start. leaning in to your boyfriend's ear, you know he can tell how desperate you're getting.

you don't do well with denial anymore—rafe had spoiled you too much for that.

"can't we go now?" the words are whispered to rafe, and you rest your head on his shoulder, blinking up at him while you wait for a response. one of his hands leaves the armstand of the sofa and grips your exposed thigh, skirt riding up a little too much.

"it's early. hold out a little longer. can you do that for me?"

you think your eyes are going to roll all the way back. the answer is yes, of course, you can do that for him. you would do anything for him. you just don't want.

following that, you accompanied rafe to the other side of the house where a whole swarm of people were chasing their next high. though you should really stand next to him, you just can't find it in you today, instead staying his back, peering out every now and then like shy children do.

it's all worth it, because moments later rafe takes you upstairs, murmuring something about how you're being a good girl for holding out. there's an empty bedroom that you think is the perfect place to spend the next hour.

rafe's talking to you—though you're so deliriously horny you can't really hear him. you nod and stare up, agreeing to whatever your boyfriend wants to do, just wishing he would hurry up and do something already, when the door opens.

you're not naked, though if they had barged in a few minutes later, you might have been. and normally you think your face would be burning, that you might die of embarrassment at someone catching you like this.

instead you're just mad.

it's the owner of the house—which makes sense, since your boyfriend has brought you up to the master. he's got a girl of his own on his arm, and you grind your teeth getting up with rafe, furious and impatient now.

"at least knock next time!" you yell when you shuffle through, ignoring splutters of it's my house!

you think rafe is going to ask you what you want to do next—but he doesn't. your boyfriend, like always, knows what you need before you can even know it sometimes. you follow rafe back to his truck, ready for, at the very least, some peace and quiet.

when you finally get up to rafe's room, the buzz of the party is wearing off a bit. your feet hurt from your heels and you can't believe you yelled at someone. lost in your own thoughts, you don't even process rafe sitting down next to you, until he takes your feet into his lap, undoing the strap of your shoes for you.

it's instant—one touch from him is enough to set your skin on fire.

"oh," you say, at the sudden realization you might finally be getting what you want. you stare at where rafe is holding your ankle in place, shoes on the ground now. "thank you."

"s'nothing, kid. get on the bed." eagerly, you comply.

in the vain hope that rafe was as impatient as you are—you thought he would just fuck you already. but it seems not, with the slow way he kisses up and down your neck, down to your tits and your stomach.

you find it a lot easier to ask him for things now—a new dress, dessert, money for your nails—but it seems impossible to ask him for this, so you opt for enjoying it and staying silent.

but even then—rafe always knows when something is wrong. you're practically vibrating from anticipation—you had wanted your boyfriend to fuck you hours ago on that stupid couch from that stupid house. it seems your body was only now realize how long you'd been clenching your thighs, biting your cheek and ignoring the tense knot in your stomach.

a few touches from rafe was enough to have you practically melting—staring up and still not saying anything.

"y'okay, kid?" he asks, and you really don't know how to answer. "s'okay. you're getting what you want."

you can do this. you're patient—you've always been patient.

"can you-please, just-" alright, maybe not. "can you please just fuck me raw, please, please, just fuck me-"

of course, rafe's not stupid. he could tell you've been on edge all night, he just hadn't known why. he stares down at you, all flushed, hot skin and heavy breaths, looking up at him. he knows whatever reaction he gives you will stay on your mind, and though he can try as hard as he wants, you are impossible to say no to.

"jesus. s'that really what you want?" you nod eagerly. "can't regret this later, baby. once we do that, it's-it's serious. what if i knock you up, huh?"

rafe watches you take in the words, facing twisting in understand.

"please knock me up."

[nanamis-baker]

"Not so Breakable, huh?"

Summary: You went on a mission without informing anyone, and well, Gojo is mad.

Content: 18+ mdni, Angry/Makeup sex, unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, Gojo's blindfold being used, choking, oral, and other stuff!

Word Count: 6.4k

a/n: I've been itching to write this for AGES, and now I finally had the time to do so! I can't wait for you to enjoy it! 🤍

Satoru's voice echoed through the room - not a shout, but a guttural roar. "How could you be so reckless?!" The words reverberated off the walls, shaking the very ground you were standing on. You stood toe-to-toe with him, nostrils flaring, your defiance burning in your eyes.

"Me? Reckless?" you shot back, mirroring his volume. "Satoru, it was my. mission!" Each word was punctuated with a jab of your finger towards him, desperate to break through his wall of anger. You waved your arms wildly towards your body, “Besides, I am not even hurt!”

You could feel the icy intensity of Satoru's eyes burning into you, even though his blindfold covered them. Not just anger, but a raw possession radiated from him. His rapid breath seemed to be laced with physical manifestation of his fury and worry, and a surge of curse energy crackled in the air between you.

He didn't respond to your words. Instead, he moved towards you. Each menacing step Satoru took sent a tremor through the room, causing you to step back. The floorboards groaned under his weight, the sound similar to terrified whimpers.

The air buzzed with emotions that transcended simple anger. It was raw, primal, and laced with something you couldn't quite define. His powerful frame loomed over you, blocking out the warm glow of the living room light, casting his shadow over you. You stepped back, your feet coming to a halt when you felt the cold wall brush against your back.

When he stopped just a hair's breadth away, your breath hitched. You could smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne and something else - something musky. You both stood frozen, locked in a silent battle of wills.

The tension in the air was so thick it felt like suffocation. He moved his arms, caging you between his muscular chest and the rough wall. You were trapped, not just by physical force, but by the intensity radiating from his very being.

"You went on a damn mission alone without even informing anyone!" His voice was a low growl against your ear, a storm brewing beneath the surface. It wasn’t just anger in his words - his words were laced with a raw, dominating edge that sent shivers erupting all over your body.

"A dsmn special grade mission, for God's sake!" he roared, the words a physical blow that vibrated through your chest.

This was impossible. Dealing with a special-grade cursed spirit solo was reckless, yes. You knew that. But Satoru was being overly protective. You were a grade-one sorcerer, trained to handle such threats. You weren't a fragile doll he could keep locked away.

Fury burned in your eyes, a mirror image of his own. You shook your head, defiance hardening your features until your jaw ached. Your fists clenched so tight your nails dug into your palms, drawing a bead of blood that you just ignored.

"The mission was an emergency," you spat, your voice barely above a whisper despite the roiling anger within you. "And I am not as breakable as you think  –"

"Cut the bullshit!" he snarled, cutting you off with brutality. His voice had dropped to a dangerous purr, sending a shiver down your spine that wasn't entirely from anger.

"I care only about the fact that you went ahead with it without even telling me," he continued, his voice low and dangerous. He was so close, you could feel his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

The air between you pulsed with a raw, electric current, drawing your bodies closer despite the anger simmering between you.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn't come. This was ridiculous. Satoru was being ridiculous. There was no way to escape his dominance, or was there?

Suddenly, in a move fueled by a mix of anger and a desperate need to assert yourself, you did something unexpected. You reached up and cupped the back of Satoru’s neck in your hands, tilting his head down to meet yours.

The kiss that followed wasn't a gentle one - a lover’s kiss. It was a clash of wills disguised as intimacy, fueled by your anger. Pouring your emotions into the kiss, you tried to communicate what he wasn’t willing to understand. You grabbed the front of his shirt, the fabric crumpling in your fist as you yanked him closer. Your lips met his in a battle for control, a fierce collision that sparked something electrifying within you.

There was a desperate need inside you - a simmering desire for something more that you were very familiar with.

Despite his initial shock, Satoru returned the kiss with equal fervour. His hands, previously braced against the wall, reached for you with a possessive hunger. One hand slid down your back, tracing the curve of your spine with a searing touch that made your head tilt up, deepening the kiss. The other hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, a silent demand for submission.

But you wouldn't submit. Not now, not entirely. You met his force with your own, pushing back against his kiss, your tongue a weapon mirroring the fierce need you felt deep in your core. A low growl rumbled from Satoru’s chest, a sound both primal and urgent.

The tension in the air changed and became something far more dangerous, fueled by your cursed energy and frustration. The kiss became a dance, a push and pull for control. Satoru deepened the kiss, stealing your breath away and weakening your resistance. You fought back, nipping at his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him. The taste of blood, metallic and sharp, ignited a new kind of heat between you, a heady mix of aggression and need.

The room faded away, replaced by the urgency of the moment. You were lost in the kiss, consumed by the raw emotions swirling between you. It was a fight, a dance, a desperate yearning all rolled into one. And as the kiss deepened, as both your anger and your desire reached a feverish pitch, you broke away, gasping for breath.

You looked at Satoru, taking in the rapid rise and fall of his chest against your fist. A beat of heavy silence stretched between you before Satoru spoke, his voice a husky rasp.

"Not so breakable, huh?" he murmured, repeating your words, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. It wasn't a question, but a statement accompanied by a hint of amusement. A slow smile spread across his face, causing the hair on your arms to rise up.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, caressing the shell. "How about we put that to a test?" he whispered, the words soft like the calm before the storm.

With that, he threw you over his shoulders effortlessly, his strength leaving you breathless. A gasp escaped your lips, both from the sudden movement and the unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Satoru’s hands caressed the back of your thighs, massaging the muscles as he made his way towards the bedroom. The touch almost felt like an apology as anticipation filled the air. 

Not even bothering to turn the lights on, he roughly tossed you onto the bed, with your back pressed against the cool sheets. His eyes were blindfolded, yet you could clearly picture the storm brewing in his cerulean eyes.

"Show me you mean it, then," you said breathlessly, your voice laced with challenge.

A slow smirk spread across Satoru's face, a hint of danger flickering in his voice as he replied, "Careful what you wish for, darling." Without wasting another moment, he was on top of you. The weight of his body was a powerful press that pushed you to the bed.

His hand gripped the back of your neck with a rough urgency before his lips met yours again, finishing what you started in the living room. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots, the soft fabric of his blindfold a frustrating caress against your fingertips. Your other hand reached for his back, nails digging into the hard muscles as they travelled down, pulling him impossibility close, the heat of his body mirroring the fire burning in your core. Your fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt, slipping inside his shirt before lifting it up. You craved to feel his skin against yours

But Satoru was quicker. He grabbed your hand by your wrist, long fingers curling around it before pinning it to the mattress beside your head, keeping your hand in place. His touch was electrifying, a mix of frustration and raw awareness.

"Take it off," you mumbled against his lips, the command laced with barely contained anger. Satoru pulled back a fraction, his lips hovering a tantalising distance from yours. A slow smile played on his lips, his voice a husky purr. "So eager, huh?"

He didn't wait for a reply. Instead, his lips trailed down your jaw, his lips peppering wet kisses along the bone. A searing kiss landed on the pulse point at your neck, the heat of his breath igniting a fire within you. You moaned - a sound that was desperate for more, much more.

Satoru chuckled at your frustration, the sound clinging to your skin. He rained kisses down your neck and chest, moving your shirt away to trace the length of your collarbone. His teeth brushed against it, before he sucked hard, his teeth sharp against your skin, leaving his mark.

He went on, his lips moving with a slow, deliberate purpose over the barrier of your clothes. Each kiss felt like a tease, a promise of what was to come. His free hand slipped under your shirt, the fabric bunching beneath his touch, a flimsy obstacle that only heightened your growing desire.

"These are getting in the way," he murmured against your skin, referring to your shirt. His hands, strong and sure, began a slow exploration beneath the fabric, sending sparks flying wherever they touched. You arched your back into him, a whimper escaping your lips as he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot.

The frustration was a delicious torture. You wanted him to rip the clothes away, to feel his bare skin against yours. But a strange pleasure arose from this slow, deliberate undressing. It was a battle of dominance, and for now, Satoru was the victor.

With a sigh that was half frustration, half surrender, you let your head fall back to the mattress. You knew you wouldn't win this fight, and in truth, a part of you didn't entirely want to.

Your shirt was bunched above your chest as Satoru worked off your bra, his fingers reaching behind your back to unclasp the material before sliding the straps off your shoulder. Cold air hit your bare chest as you felt a tightening sensation, your nipples pebbling up.

Satoru’s fingers danced over your buds, the touch feather- like, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips, a sound you couldn't quite control. He smirked at your desperation, “what is it, love?” He asked, “Want more than this?” as if to show what you could get, he pinched your nipple, causing a sharp gasp to leave your mouth.

“Fuck - Satoru I -” A strangled gasp escaped your lips as Satoru's lips brushed against your nipple, a whisper of heat that sent shivers down your spine. Then, teeth scraped against the sensitive peak, before he left a sharp bite on the skin. His tongue darted out - a wet caress soothing the sting. It was a delicious ache, a thrilling sensation that left you breathless.

He moved down your chest, savouring every inch of your body. Each nip, each suckle, left a raw ache in its wake, a desperate yearning blooming within you. You wanted more - more of this intense, bordering-on-painful pleasure that pushed you to the edge.

"Satoru," you gasped, your voice breathless - thick with desire and a hint of something darker. "Don't stop." The words were a plea, as you arched your back - an attempt to get more of this sensation - more of him.

“Don't worry, love” he said, before leaving a kiss right over his mark on your chest, “The night is still young.” Pain and pleasure clouded your senses, and by the time Satoru was done, your chest felt raw and so sensitive. 

The world narrowed down to Satoru; the feel of his lips against your skin as he left a hungry trail down your body, devouring every inch of your exposed flesh till he reached the waistband of your pants. You felt a tug at the fabric, your eyes widening as you realised his intentions.

"Wait!" you gasped, the word barely escaping your lips before there was a sharp rip. The sound echoed in the tense silence as Satoru tore your pants down the seam in a single, swift motion before removing the material and discarding it.

Heat flooded your face, a mix of fury and something else entirely. You opened your mouth to protest, but Satoru cut you off.

"Don't worry, love," he murmured against your thigh, before nipping at the skin of your inner thigh, "I'll get you something new. Hated them anyways."

Before you could even process his words, Satoru's strong hands parted your legs, settling between them. His hot breath brushed against your stomach as one of his hands wrapped around your thigh, keeping it open.

He didn't waste time. With a swift movement, he pushed your panties aside, his lips replacing the cool, wet fabric. The sudden shift in sensation was electrifying. A gasp ripped from your throat, a sound that mingled with a desperate moan. "Fuck, ‘Toru," you breathed, your voice thick with desire and a touch of surrender under his touch. Your hips instinctively bucked upward, seeking a deeper connection with his touch.

You could feel the smugness radiate from him. “Eager, are we?” He asked, before his tongue darted out and slowly traced the length of your slit, gathering your wetness, leaving a trail of saliva. Satoru then focused on your clit, sucking and licking, sometimes even biting it while his fingers teased your entrance, drawing agonising circles around it. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, a throaty moan leaving your chest. You knew Satoru was just getting started, but it already felt so intense - you could feel your orgasm building.

He continued this, but the pressure kept changing. Sometimes it was just a tender touch - a feather-light brush of his lips. The other times it was a hard, deliberate suck on your clit, his teeth nipping at your most sensitive spot. It was hot and cold, frustrating and maddening.

Your hands fisted the bed sheet by your head, the force enough to rip the expensive fabric.

Just as your core clenched, the first tremors of release building, Satoru's focus shifted. His mouth focused on your entrance as Satoru stiffened his tongue before plunging into you. His thumb tracing light, small circles over your clit, the touch a fleeting brush - never giving you what you wanted, but showing you what it could be. Testing you, testing how far you’d go before you broke. It was a constant reminder of what you craved just out of reach.

Your hands snaked down your body, a desperate attempt to claim the pleasure that danced just out of reach. Your fingers twitched towards your clit. But before you could find solace, Satoru's grip tightened on your wrist. He yanked your hand back, pinning it against your stomach. 

Satoru pulled back a little, blowing softly on your clit, the cool air a world away from the heat you felt, giving rise to goosebumps all over your skin. He left a soft kiss on your inner thigh as his finger continued their torturous dance over your heated skin.

Your toes curled and dug into his clothed back, urging him closer - to do something more, but Satoru wasn’t deterred. He kept teasing you, keeping you balanced on the knife’s edge.

Your senses were overloaded, the feathery touch of Satoru’s fingers on your skin so different from the firestorm building within. His silky hair brushed against your inner thigh, the ticklish sensation enhancing your pleasure. You arched your back, trying to escape the delicious agony, but Satoru kept you in place, his muscular arms tightening around your thigh.

"Satoru!" you gasped, your voice a desperate plea laced with a hint of something wilder. A single, sharp moan ripped through your throat, held back by a dam of rising pleasure that threatened to burst. You were close - so close.

Your hand, shaking with a strong need for release, reached out and tangled itself in his hair, your grip tight. You knew it would hurt - it had to. "What are you trying to do?" you hissed, the words laced with a breathless urgency.

Satoru pulled back, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, caressing it, “Patience love,” he said softly. “I am trying to show you something here.” with that, he left one final kiss on your clit before he started pulling away.

Your heels dug into his back, to prevent him from pulling back, but Satoru just pulled himself back, letting go of your hand before grabbing your ankles, pulling you down until you were teetering on the edge of the bed, your breath catching in your throat.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, your clit throbbing, so desperate for a release. But before you could do anything, your eyes darted to the man in front of you. Moonlight glinted off his face, highlighting the wet glossiness on his lips. His hair, a tangled mess mirroring the tangled emotions between you, obscured the blindfold that had slipped a little. Despite the anger, despite the unresolved words, a raw truth hung in the air. He looked beautiful, even when he was a mess.

Satoru reached for your shirt that was bunched up over your chest. He pulled it over your shoulder, the soft fabric scraping against your burning skin. With ease, he manoeuvred your arms behind your back, before he took the discarded fabric and wrapped it around your wrists, twisting the fabric with cruel efficiency, transforming it into a makeshift handcuff.

A new wave of heat flooded in your core, accompanied by shock and a new challenge. "Oh really, Satoru?" you hissed, lifting your head to look at his face. “Did I intimidate you so much you had to tie me up?”

Satoru's grin promised both danger and exquisite pleasure. His hands moved to lift the blindfold, revealing eyes that encased a storm. The moonlight glinted off the sapphire irises, causing them to glow, but it was the rim around them, a ring of raw, unbridled desire, that stole your breath. It spoke of a hunger that mirrored your own, a hunger that was far greater than the anger simmering between you.

Somehow, in that single, electrifying moment, Satoru looked more dangerous and more tempting than ever before. His eyes invited you to fly too close to the sun- an invitation to a dance on the edge of control, and you were ready to take flight.

After the blindfold came off, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, “Oh love, you will not just be tied up.” With that, he lifted his blindfold over your head before lowering it down, covering your entire world in pitch darkness.

The sudden absence of light intensified the heat radiating from Satoru's body, his every breath a ragged whisper against your ear. You could feel him move away - the heat of his body disappearing, before he settled down on the bed beside you. 

His hands were on your thighs, pulling you so that you were straddling his lap, the strong muscles of his thigh hard against your sensitive skin. His hands were on your back, caressing the curve of your spine, his nails dug into your skin. A gasp escapes your lips - a mixture of pain and arousal - as wetness flooded between your legs. You were sure your back had the crescent shape of his nails branded into it. 

“You want to cum right?” he asked, as if he wasn’t painfully aware of your needs. 

You kept your mouth shut - not giving him the satisfaction he craved, but the tremble of your body against his - desperate for a release - gave away enough. “Ride me, darling.” he murmured, “Take whatever you need.” The words were a taunt - a challenge - one you were willing to take.

With that, he settled back, leaving you to do what you pleased; well, it wasn’t like you could do much. You settled yourself against the bulge of his pants, hissing as it rubbed against your throbbing core, the texture of his pants feeling oddly smooth. But you paid it no mind as you began rocking your hips back and forth, reigniting the flames in your core.

Your back arched, your head tilted back and you moved your hips against him, throaty, deep moans leaving your lips. Yet, something was different - weird even. You have done this countless times in the past, yet why was it so different this time? 

Your fingers itched again to toy with your clit - to get the friction you craved, but there was nothing you could do.

Frustration gnawed at your senses, reaching its peak when you could feel nothing, even as you increased your pace. Your thighs burned with exertion.

Satoru's hands were a constant presence on your back, tracing a lazy path over the length of your back. A sharp sting on your nipple jolted you; Satoru had pinched it - hard - you realised. “What is it, love?” Satoru asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “You seem to be having some trouble, hmm?”

You could see nothing, yet you could feel Satoru's eyes on you as a frustrated whimper escaped your lips. He was enjoying this - enjoying every damn second of your desperation.

“Satoru you-” just then it dawned on you. Why it felt as if you were riding nothing - why it had no texture, no form - because it was nothing, it was just emptiness.

Satoru was making you ride his infinity.

Your eyes widened behind the blindfold, a strangled cry erupting from your throat at the realisation. He was doing it on purpose - of course he was! Getting you worked up and needy, begging for him.

 The world was a frustrating blur of darkness and incomplete sensation. The phantom friction only amplified your desire, making you squirm against the sensation.

Satoru reached out, trailing his fingers down your folds, a slow, deliberate path that sent shivers down your bound arms. Every brush sent a wave of pleasure straight to your core, a promise of release dangerously close. But then, he'd withdraw, leaving you burning with a frustrated heat - Satoru's touch was a cruel tease, determined to push you over your limit.

"So close, aren't we, love?" he gently kissed your cheek, the touch as soft as a butterfly’s flutter. You could practically feel the smirk playing on his lips against your cheek.

"Satoru," you growled, the warning clear in your voice.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. "Feeling impatient, hm?" he cooed, his fingers brushing your inner thigh with a whispering touch, causing you to hiss and pull back slightly, but Satoru’s strong hands stopped you. 

“You should look at yourself right now,” he breathed against your neck, his words dripping with amusement as he described what you were unable to see. “Looking so pretty like this, riding nothing but air,” He sucked on your pulse, drawing a gasp out of you. “Making a mess all over me.” his fingers brushed against your core again, as if to prove his point.

Just after those words left his mouth, Satoru flipped you over so that you were on the bed with him on top. Without any warning, his fingers plunged into you and you groaned - finally, you could feel something - something tangible.

Satoru’s long fingers pumped inside you, his thumb drawing tight circles on your clit. Your wetness immediately coated his fingers. His fingers curled and twisted, the movement promising an intense release. Your breath came in short pants as Satoru quickened his pace, adding another finger inside you, stretching your walls. Your back arched to give him better access, encouraging him to go deeper.

“Fuck, Satoru, don’t hold back,” you panted, knowing he needed a little push. “Oh, not even planning to,” Satoru replied, twisting his fingers inside you, brushing against all your stops, the pressure delicious against your muscles. 

Your impending orgasm finally greeted you, igniting every cell in your body in its wake. You were screaming or crying - you didn’t know, as Satoru continued pumping his fingers into you, elongating your release.

But he didn’t stop once you were done. Satoru pumped his fingers inside you as he increased the pressure on your sensitive clit, bringing you so close to another intense orgasm. Your eyes rolled back into your head behind the blindfold. Your legs shook, your bound fists clenched behind your back as another wave of pleasure took over you, chants of Satoru’s name leaving your lips.

He went on, his fingers gliding in and out effortlessly. HIs long, slender fingers sent shivers down your spine with each deliberate stroke. Lost in a haze of pleasure, breathless whimpers and groans escaped your lips as your body arched for more. Undulated pleasure took hold, wave after wave washing over you. You felt yourself melting, boneless - a pile of blissful surrender under his touch.

By the time he was satisfied, you were a mess. Your core was so sensitive - like a live wire, a bundle of exposed nerves. Your throat ached as pleasure coursed inside your vein, making your skin burn. Satoru held you close against his warm body as you struggled to catch your breath, before he leaned down and whispered, “We aren’t done yet, love.”

“But Satoru -” you began, but Satoru placed a finger over your lips, silencing you. “Shh, you have got some more in you - I know it.”

With that, he moved away, the rustle of fabric greeting your ear. He was undressing, you realised. The situation felt weirdly ironic. Here you were sitting on the bed, completely bare for his eyes - at his mercy, yet you couldn’t even see him.

As if sensing your thoughts, Satoru said, “Don't worry, sweetheart,” his hands brushed against your ankles, “You'll get what you want soon.”

You parted your legs, giving Satoru the space he needed as he settled closer to you, the mattress shifting under his weight.You could feel his tip against your sensitive core, a hiss leaving your lips as you lifted your hips, trying to get more of him.

Satoru moaned at the sensation, a sound that resonated through you. He pressed a hand on your lower stomach, forcing your hips down before he reached back, undoing the bonds of your hand. 

A sigh of relief left your lips as you reached out, ignoring the stiffness of your muscles. Your hands found his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

Satoru's warmth enveloped you, his cologne a heavy presence in your senses. His tip brushed against your clit. Satoru used his cock to gather your wetness, before he found your entrance, plunging into you with a force that left you breathless.

Satoru’s pained hiss filled your ears as your walls clamped down around his sensitive length, eager for all of him. But before he completely settled inside you, Satoru stilled, moving inside you with short, shallow movement. He moved deliberately, each thrust a calculated tease designed to send you spiralling.

The frustration that had been simmering all night boiled over, coursing through your veins. You had enough of his teasing, and with a surge of newfound power, you wrapped your legs around his hips, hands gripping the back of his neck. In a smooth motion, you flipped the two of you, taking control, Satoru still nestled deep inside.

“What are you doing, love?” Satoru questioned, the sudden change in positions taking him by surprise. You moved over him, your walls squeezing around his length, causing Satoru to moan. “Taking what I need, honey” you answered breathlessly, using his own words against him. Your hands travelled up his chest, brushing against taut muscles, before moving over his shoulder and wrapping your hands around his throat. You squeezed his neck, the touch powered by the anger and frustration you felt all evening.

A moan ripped from Satoru’s chest, the sound vibrating against your hand as your hips pistoned against his. His hand tightened on your hip, providing stability to your thrusts. His other hand, a searing brand, traced a path up your side, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Reaching your blindfold, he paused, his fingers lingering on the cool fabric before he lowered it, the fabric hanging around your neck.

The darkness lifted, revealing Satoru. His eyes burned with a desire and need that mirrored the simmering anger in your gut. His hair was a mess of damp tendrils clinging to the flushed skin of his face. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, mirroring your own. His chest heaved with short, ragged breaths, evidence of the effect you had on him. Your gaze finally landed on his lips, where a smirk played. 

This fucker was enjoying this.

Your grip around his throat tightened, watching as his skin turned a deeper shade of pink. You quickened your pace over him, your head thrown back in a gasp as intense pleasure coursing through your body.

Satoru’s grip on your hips tightened further, controlling your movement, making you bounce on his cock. A gasp escaped your lips as his other hand found your throat and squeezed, a shocking contrast to the gentle brush of his thumb against your pulse point. For a moment, the world narrowed to his touch, the pressure building a delicious tension in your chest.

“So pretty, love.” His words were like fuel, feeding the growing fire of pleasure inside you. His eyes raked over your body, lingering on your chest - the reddened patches of skin, each one a map of his touch. The marks he left burned under his gaze, like flames dancing over your skin.

His hand left your throat and the pressure on your throat vanished, replaced by a gasp as you gulped in air, your pace becoming frantic. The room was filled by the sound of moans and skin slapping against skin. 

You felt your orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to crash over you. With a gasp, you arched your back, tightening around Satoru's hardness. A hiss escaped his lips as his grip on your hips tightened further. His nails dug in, drawing sharp, red lines across your skin, his desperate urgency that mirrored your own.

Satoru’s finger reached down, travelling between the valley of your chest, over your stomach before reaching your aching clit. His finger danced a maddeningly rhythm over your bud, each circle a deliberate tease. Anticipation coiled tighter with every caress, a pressure building in your core that threatened to explode. “Cum for me, love,” he murmured, a barely concealed tremor in his voice. When he flicked and pinched your clit, a gasp ripped from your lips.

The dam broke. Pleasure surged in a white-hot wave, crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls spasmed, clenching down on Satoru with a pulsing intensity. Your back arched so high you felt bone strain, your breath a ragged cry clawing its way out of your throat. You crawled at Satoru’s chest, leaving red, angry marks all over his glistering skin.

The aftershock of your release left you breathless, clinging to Satoru for support, your face buried in his chest. But before you could completely bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, Satoru shifted. With ease, he flipped you onto your hands and knees.

He shifted behind you, leaning down to press a kiss on your sweaty temple. His voice was a low rumble against your ear as your eyes met. "Enjoyed that, sweetheart?" He smirked, but the glint in his eyes held a different promise. He hovered at your entrance, the tip of him a torturous brush against your heated core.

"Because," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "it's my turn now." Without a warning, he plunged into you again, this time from behind, taking control over your body. 

You whimpered - it felt too much. But it also felt so good.

Satoru leaned down, his hands cupping your throat, pulling you towards him. He placed a kiss on your forehead, his hands digging into your lower back, urging you closer. A shudder wracked your body, the aftershocks of your release battling the building heat within you.  

"You're doing so well," he rasped out. "Just one more," his lips moved against your cheek, a hint of desperation lacing his voice. "Can you manage that, love?"

Exhaustion gnawed at your limbs, but the raw desire in his voice was impossible to resist. You could only nod, your body already betraying your mind as he surged back into you.

His hand reached for the blindfold hanging around your neck, grabbing it. You sucked in a breath, a thrill shooting through you, already knowing what was about to come. Satoru’s hand twisted around the blindfold, tightening it, cutting off your oxygen. Your blood rushed to your face as his other hand grabbed the front of your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp, tugging at your roots.

He used the blindfold and the grip on your hair to leverage your body, controlling your movements, moving you back and forth on his cock. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of overwhelming sensation and exhilaration. Your body moved instinctively against his, lost in the delicious friction he had created.

Satoru's grip on your hair intensified, pulling your head up. “Fuck love, you take me so well” he groaned. his movements became erratic, fueled by his own rising desire. His gasps filled the space between you, mirroring your own quickening breaths. You could feel the frantic beat of his heart echoing against your back

A surge of heat flared low in your abdomen, spreading outwards in a delicious wave. Your walls instinctively clenched around him, mirroring the tightening grip of his hand around the blindfold. You squeezed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by a tsunami of sensations - the press of his body, the unrestricted sounds of his pleasure, the exquisite friction building within you and the way he filled you.

Your orgasm finally took over you - over every muscle in your body, leaving a white - hot fire burning in its wake. It felt as if your senses had stopped working, the intensity of your release replacing everything. Your breath hitched in your throat, replaced by a guttural moan that tore from your lips.

Satoru hissed behind you, his movement becoming jerky as his length pulsed inside you, “So close -  love” he choked out, gasping, before you felt his warm cum filling you up. He shuddered, his body mirroring yours as his own orgasm greeted him.

Satoru continued pumping into you, pushing and burying his release deep inside you - where it belonged. He pulled out, using his cock to gather the cum and wetness leaking out of you, before pushing it back into you, stuffing you up completely.

He held you close, his ragged breaths mingling with yours. The world faded away, leaving only the press of his body and the aftershocks of pleasure reverberating through you. “See what you do to me?” he asked, still pulsing inside you, before pulling you in for a kiss.

Satoru's fingertips traced lazy circles over your bare back, his fingers cool against your heated skin. You nestled deeper into his chest, the crisp scent of fresh bed sheets and his bodywash calming your senses.

"You did so good today, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. You could hear the tenderness, the unmistakable pride lacing his words - You knew he wasn’t just talking about the events that took place moments before.

Confused, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. The question forming on your lips died in your throat as he pressed a finger against them, a playful glint in his sapphire eyes. "Let me finish, okay?" he asked, a soft smile playing on his lips while his eyes pleaded you to remain quiet - to let him say what he was thinking.

Your hand instinctively wrapped around his, a silent invitation for him to continue. His other hand brushed through your damp hair, still wet from the shower. "Taking on a special grade curse all alone? Without even a scratch?." His voice hushed with awe, "You're incredible, love."

A blush crept up your neck. You knew you were more than capable - you had trained hard to reach where you are today - but hearing it from Satoru sent warmth through you. You knew he wasn’t saying it just for the sake of it - he genuinely meant it. "It wasn't that big of a deal," you said, trying to deflect his praise, ignoring the warmth blooming in your chest.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. Then, his expression turned serious. "Seriously, though, next time something like that happens, just let me know, alright?” he asked, cupping your face, your eyes meeting his. “Even a quick text would do."

The playful glint returned to his eyes. "Besides," he added, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face, "it wouldn't be any fun if I don’t show up every now and then, saving your ass" 

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You playfully yanked his arm “It was just once!” you said, the laughter still bubbling out of you. 

But you knew he was right, knew he just wanted to be there for you, to offer his strength when you needed it most.  "Alright," you conceded, a smile gracing your lips. "Whenever something like this happens again, I will let you know."

He squeezed your hand, the warmth spreading through you. "Good," he said, before pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your temple.

Your eyelids felt heavy - the day’s fatigue finally caught up to you. You nestled in Satoru’s arm as sleep pulled you into its comforting embrace.

a/n: Ahhh, writing smut is always SO difficult but so fun lol. I hope you enjoyed this!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune!

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: yandere!Tom Riddle x gn!Reader

Synopsis: no one can take you away from Tom, not even Death itself

Warnings: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, non-sexual nudity, dark forces, mention of death and bodies, reader’s gender not specified

You felt weird. Your ears were filled with buzzing white noise, mind racing but also completely muddled up. You inhaled sharply, searing pain surged through all of your body at the feeling of your lungs expanding. It felt like your insides were set ablaze all at once. Rattling cough tore through your throat, filling your mouth with the some thick slime-like substance that you quickly spat out, gulping desperately on cold air in fast shallow breaths.

From what your overwhelmed senses could tell - you were laying down on some kind of flooring - which felt more like bare stone. You struggled to get yourself into sitting position, hard cobbles dug into your flesh painfully, causing you to shiver violently from both cold and discomfort.

You cracked your eyes open, blinking rapidly a few times to get the same sticky slimey stuff out of your eyes. It was very dark around- or was it your unstable state? Heavy steps could be heard, coming in your direction; your body tensed impossibly more, head snapping in direction of nearing man(?), hands roaming the ground underneath you, trying to find something - anything - to defend yourself with.

- Shhhhh, dearest, it’s just me. You’re safe, - a familiar voice spoke soothingly, your body relaxing at the dear sound of it.

- Tom? - you whispered, eyes flickering in all directions haphazardly, trying to distinguish male’s slim figure in thick darkness.

Tom fell to his knees next to you, muttering quiet ‘Lumos’, dim ray of light coming from the tip of his wand blinded you temporarily. You heard some soft shuffling before a thick woolen cloak was wrapped tightly around your shuddering frame.

You managed to crack your eyes open, finally being abele to look around. You peeked down at yourself - your body looked raw - as if you spent hours emerged in hot water - skin was a bringt pink color, extremely sensitive to the smallest of touches - just like an infant in first minutes of its life. You were completely bare, some weird slippery substance was covering every part of you, cooling your body down unpleasantly.

Your eyes wandered up to Tom. His face was gaunt - cheeks looked as hollow as ever; dark eyes you loved so much were unusually sunken, dark purplish circles you knew he got from sleepless nights were laying underneath them; his beautiful lips were chopped and pale, lacking their usual plushness; lush shiny waves of brown hair laying so elegantly on his forehead now looked bleak and brittle. Tom looked ill - as if he was struggling from protracted ailment. But even despite his miserable -you could’ve never thought of using this adjective for describing Tom Riddle- appearance, his eyes were sparkling maniacally, like diamonds in finest of the jewelry.

- Tom, what happened? I don’t understand… - you inquired quietly. Your throat felt way too tight, making your voice sound shaky and weak, and you struggled to get words out. You felt Tom wrapping his arms tightly around you, bringing you to his chest in a tight embrace.

- Everything’s all right now, my love. It’s okay, you are safe with me, - Tom muttered more to himself, rocking you from side to side gently.

You took a look at your surroundings - it looked like you were inside of a huge dark cave of some sorts, rough wet stones were forming walls and ceiling of the cavity, you could hear water dripping down the stalactites all around, hitting the rocks underneath with loud echoing sounds. What caught your attention were deep involute lines carved deeply into stone ground, forming an intricate designs all around you, slightest red glow was still visible emanating from them.

There were dead bodies laying all around. About a dozen of men and women, some of them you recognized as Tom’s devoted followers, were splayed around what seemed to be a transfiguration circle. There were no injuries nor blood on them visible. In fact, they looked fully normal if it wasn’t for their dull eyes and looks of absolute horror etched on their lifeless faces.

And then suddenly pictures flashed before your eyes - Tom’s face, still full of health and youthful beauty, covered in grime and blood, was gazing down at you, his eyes sparkling with shiny tears. What was that? Why was he crying? And then, like in some kind of drunken haze, you looked down at yourself - a huge crimson blotch was growing bigger and bigger on your robes, saturating soft cotton fabric in warm sticky blood. You looked back up at Tom - he was full on crying now, babbling “don’t leave me” and “please, don’t die” over and over again, trembling hands pressing down onto your chest, trying to stop the blood flow.

What was he talking about? Why would you die? You tried to say it, to console your silly boy, reassure that there’s no way you would leave him - but no sound came out of your throat, no matter how hard you tried. Your mouth filled with sickening metallic taste of your own blood, black clouding your vision rapidly.

And now you remembered. Those were your memories - your last ones - before you died.

But how was this all possible? Here you were, blood and flesh, warm and breathing and surely alive, in welcoming arms of your lover.

- Tom? What have you done?.. - horror mixed with shock slowly crept up your back, all the way to your chest and throat, making it even harder to breath than before.

- Nothing will ever hurt you again. I won’t let that happen, I promise, - Tom uttered next to your ear, his body shaking with soundless sobs as he held you even closer to himself,

- I will keep you safe, away from all dangers. You will know no worries nor fears. It will be just the two of us, in our perfect world we’ve always dreamed of. Forever.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback inspires writers on creating more content!💗

[solefae]

THE NEW DIVA. jimmy uso

SUMMARY ── jimmy can’t keep his eyes off the new diva

It was 2014 and Monday Night RAW was electric as always in the Allstate Arena near Chicago. Backstage, Zahra was buzzing with nerves in her debut match against AJ Lee later on. As the newest signee to WWE's roster of Divas, she was determined to show all the haters doubting the biracial beauty.

Of course, having the entire locker room behind her certainly helped calm the jitters. Well, almost the entire room - as Zahra stretched in the corner warming up, she couldn't help notice a certain blue chipper Samoan's lingering gaze from across the way.

Jimmy Uso had been in the company for a couple years now tearing it up alongside his brother Jey, and Zahra had admired him from afar since her FCW days. But this was the first time they were really interacting beyond friendly hellos in passing.

Her heart fluttered when he finally sauntered over, checking out her toned physique on display in her tiny wrestling gear unabashedly. "Aye girl you look ready to kill it out there. Mind if I spot ya?" Jimmy offered in that addictive baritone, already leading her over to the weights.

"Appreciate it, could always use an extra set of eyes. Especially from a pro like you," Zahra replied coyly, laying back on the bench to start pumping out reps under his watchful gaze. His large hands guided the bar smoothly, lingering a few extra beats each time she brought it down to brush her ample chest teasingly.

"Damn you strong too, know you gon hold that gold belt one day for sure ma. And definitely got them looks to match, bet all the fellas tryna holla," Jimmy flirted smoothly in return, leaning down to murmur the compliment lowly in her ear. Zahra shivered despite the sweltering heat coursing through her veins, equal parts nerves and want now.

"Maybe. But only got eyes for one man out here if he's interested too," she shot back playfully once he helped sit her up, unable to resist brushing her fingers along his bulging arm tantalizingly. The look Jimmy gave her in return had Zahra practically melting like putty in his strong hands already.

"Guess we'll have to continue this conversation after your match shawty. Break a leg out there - I'll be watchin extra close," he promised darkly, punctuating the offer with a lingering kiss to the back of her hand that had her head spinning the rest of prep. This match was about to be way more fun than anticipated now.

Sure enough, Zahra felt Jimmy's intense gaze burning into her the entire time in the ring against AJ. She flew around that canvas like the veteran she was training to be, putting on a clinic and thrillng the packed stadium. When she locked AJ into thesubmission for the clean pin, the roar was deafening as confetti rained down celebrating the new princess of WWE officially.

After a crushing hug from all her girls backstage in congratulations, Zahra began searching the crowded hallway eagerly for Jimmy, needing that follow up chat more than ever buzzing off her high. Spotting his towering frame leaned casually outside the showers, she sauntered over confidently, heart bursting.

"So you liked what you saw out there big boy?" Zahra purred brazenly, fisting her tiny hands in his open shirt to drag him into the empty locker room teasingly. Jimmy couldn't resist cupping her supple cheeks, eyes already lidded and dark like a starving man shown an endless buffet.

"Goddamn ma you know you take my breath away. Can't stop thinkin bout gettin my hands all over that sexy lil body," he groaned hungrily, backing her into the locker to hike her leg high around his muscular hips. Zahra whimpered helplessly feeling his thick manhood straining against her throbbing core through their thin barriers, lips locking desperately.

"Then take me already daddy, been wanting you forever," she urged breathlessly, tugging his jersey over his head eagerly. Their clothing disappeared in a flurry, lips and tongues mapping out every new inch of glistening skin fervently. Jimmy lifted her with ease, sinking home between her folds in one smooth glide that had them both crying out at the sensation.

"You feel so damn good n tight on this dick, fuck!" he grunted already, setting a blissful punishing pace in and out of her quivering heat. Zahra could only sob and beg shamelessly for more, hands clawing down his sculpted back as her first orgasm approached fast and mercilessly under his skilled ministrations.

Jimmy was determined to test her stamina after that electrifying showing, pounding into her greedy pussy relentlessly against the metallic lockers. Zahra came again and again, gushing around his thick member each time with increasing intensity until Jimmy finally spilled deep inside her with an animalistic growl of completion.

Collapsing in a sweaty euphoric tangle afterwards, neither could find it in themselves to regret giving into temptation so thoroughly. "Damn ma was worth the wait," Jimmy eventually mumbled against her hair softly, pressing sweet kisses along her heaving collarbones adoringly.

Zahra only smiled dreamily, tracing the lines of his handsome face tenderly as her heart swelled bursting with joy and belonging. "This is just the beginning for us. Who knows what we'll accomplish together," she whispered back confidently, knowing in her soul their story had only just begun unfolding...

taglist aka my loves! ⇩

@kumapassion @truefant4sy

@yeaiamme2 @cody-uso

@riverina69 @shantinextdoor

@christinabae @empressdede

(lemme know if you want to be added/removed!) 🤍✨

©solefae.

[crsjunkyard]

January Embers (Part 5)

The Sun Also Rises Series (ao3), Momentous Beginnings, A Study In Pink, January Embers (1), (2), (3), (4)

Ugh- this took so much longer than I wanted it to because my internet is out. But its okay because this is the longest chapter yet, weighing in at a whopping 6k. Also oopsies we're doing seven parts instead of six.

I will be indicating explicit sections to make them easily skippable, in this chapter the explicit sections are a bit more tame than in the coming sections. The start of an explicit section is indicated by a double line break like this: ******* *******

The conclusion of an explicit section is indicated by a triple line break ******* ******* *******

Length: 6k

Summary: How much longer can the two of you dance around each other before something gives?

******* *******

Viktor was in a frenzy.

The sound of running water drowned out the steady pounding in his ears. He stood there under the stream, long legs buckled- leaning heavily into the smooth shower wall. Cool porcelain against his back contrasted the steam swirling through the air, intensifying the buzz of pleasure already coursing through his veins.

He’d been dreaming about you, flashes of skin and heat and impossibly dark eyes.

You were on top of him, slowly circling your hips in a teasing motion- looking down with a predatory glint in your heated gaze.

Every time he would reach out- needing desperately to touch you, his hands would be batted away. After enough of these attempts, you pinned them above his head, leaning down so that warm breath ghosted over his sensitive neck.

“If you want to touch-” words punctuated by a tight squeeze on his immobile wrists. “You’re going to have to ask nicely,” you demanded, voice sultry and smooth- like silk spilling from your lips.

He woke alone, covered in a thin sheen of sweat- and dangerously close to coming in his pants. This wasn’t a time where he could focus on deep breaths for a few minutes and power through, he needed to get somewhere fast.

Quiet chopping sounds came from the kitchen, and Viktor decided to make a break for the bathroom, muttering a quick good morning to you on the way.

Now his head was thrown back, eyes closed tightly as he thrust into the snug canal of his closed fist. A visual loop of you running through his mind's eye. You in that pink dress- your naked body pressed against his bare chest- you fresh out of the shower wrapped in a skimpy towel- your hands stroking across the skin of his calf.

Switching to slow teasing strokes, he began to flick his wrist ever so slightly- thumb catching on his swollen head, spreading around the steady wetness that leaked from his cock in thick droplets.

He shoved a clenched fist between his teeth, trying to muffle the soft moans threatening to escape his throat. The last thing I need is for her to hear me.

The thought had the opposite effect he’d hoped for, and now he imagined that you could hear him. That you were listening in as he pleasured himself to the thought of you.

It was enough to make his vision go white, limbs locking up as intense waves of bliss washed over him. He came in thick spurts, not ceasing the steady stroking until he felt raw and used- enjoying the sharp edge of oversensitivity.

Viktor tried to regain his bearings, sticking his flushed face under the steady flow of water, breath still coming in heavy pants.

Something had shifted, it was almost imperceptible- but nonetheless, it was there. Ever since you’d wrapped around him from behind, placing that burning kiss to the side of his neck. There was a newfound tension in the air, a thick haze that settled around the two of you- charging your every interaction.

A breaking point was coming, Viktor felt it in his bones.

He finished washing up, lathering himself in lightly scented bubbles. A bit of the unbearable heat had abated, but he was still feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you wanted him, not anymore. Now the two of you were playing a dangerous game of chicken, toeing at a line that got fainter each day.

*******

Smack, smack, smack

Your knife came down in even strokes as you roughly chopped at a small pile of roasted nuts. Maybe you slammed it a bit harder than was necessary, but it wasn’t your fault, you had a lot of pent up frustration to work out.

Every time you looked at Viktor’s pretty face a sharp ache pierced through your body. It didn’t matter what he was doing, somehow, someway- you would get turned on.

He was writing in his journal, slender fingers tightly gripping the pen as words flowed onto the page- you couldn’t help but wonder, what would those talented digits feel like inside you?

That little flutter of his eyelids, followed by a pleased humm of enjoyment when he took his first bite of something you’d cooked- how many other noises could you pull from him if you had the chance? How sweetly would he whimper your name?

Smack, smack, smack

Sometimes- during research, his honeyed eyes would grow dark and stormy, full of intensity and passion. What you wouldn't give to be the subject of those passions, to be pinned underneath that fierce gaze- to be completely at his mercy.

But then again, you remembered all the times he’d come to help you in the kitchen- so eager to learn, so ready to take instruction. He was good too, so good at following every step you’d laid out for him. Would he like to be at your mercy? Would he want to be told how to please you- told what a good boy he was for you-

Smack, smack, thunk

You swore loudly as the sharp edge of your blade sliced through the meat of your palm.

******* ******* ********

Viktor had just pulled on his pants when he heard you yell, a loud and sharp curse followed by quiet muttering. He hurried from the bathroom to come check on you- still damp and without a shirt.

He saw you standing in front of the counter, holding a rag to the center of your palm- deep crimson slowly saturating the soft blue cloth. You looked at him, trying to give a casual shrug but wincing in pain as it jostled your hand.

Although you weren’t in quite enough pain to ignore the breathtaking sight of a freshly showered shirtless Viktor, easily distracted by the creamy expanse of lightly muscled skin.

Viktor watched your eyes glaze over as they roamed his exposed torso, tongue darting out to lick your lips, looking at him like a freshly baked lemon tart. You were unbelievable, absolutely incorrigible- it would be amusing if you weren’t about to drip blood all over the kitchen floor.

“You must be kidding- keep pressure on that,” he commanded, reaching into a corner cabinet to retrieve the medkit.

“Oh, since when do we have that,” you said in surprise.

“Since the fried mushroom incident,” he responded dryly, pulling out a bit of gauze and antiseptic.

“Ah- good call,” you clenched your teeth as he removed the cloth, gently cleaning the shallow cut with tender swipes. He wrapped it methodically, gauging your face for any lingering pain.

“There- good as new,” he cradled your injured palm gently, giving you a soft smile.

“Thank you, sorry about the blood,” you apologized sheepishly.

“Just be more careful, I don’t like to see you in pain,” he said earnestly, still cupping your hand.

It would never cease to amaze you, how easily he said those words. Those words that meant the world to you- that you would echo back a thousand and one times.

“I will,” you promised, eyes doing a brief sweep for blood before moving back towards the cutting board to finish breakfast.

“Ah- what do you think you’re doing?” he questioned, moving to stand between you and the countertop.

“Finishing breakfast,” you spoke slowly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I do not think so- solnishka, you just cut yourself,” he gave an exasperated eye roll, moving to pick up a clean knife. “I believe I am capable of finishing morning oats, you can guide me.”

Your knees went weak at his suggestion, Is he doing this on purpose?

Despite your lowered reasoning capacity, breakfast was finished quickly. Viktor was good with his hands, completing your work with easy knife strokes- adding the dried fruits and a few spoonful's extra than your recommended amount of honey to the softly cooked oats.

He filled two large bowls, looking up at you fondly before reaching into the cupboard and adding a heavy sprinkle of cinnamon to yours.

Is it possible to love someone so much it hurts? you wondered, feeling like your heart was in a vice.

The two of you settled comfortably across from each other at your small table.

“Thank you for breakfast, zoloste.”

You winced as soon as the endearment left your mouth, it sounded much less romantic than when you’d practiced it in the market.

Viktor watched your expression turn sour, stifling a laugh at the clumsy way your mouth formed the vowels, coming out stretched in all the wrong places.

“Ugh- don’t laugh at me I can’t take it,” you hung your head, palms over your eyes.

“No- no- no- I am sorry, I was merely surprised,” he soothed, reaching out to tilt up your chin. “How about we practice together, yes?”

You nodded, still wanting to learn how- and knowing you were being a touch dramatic.

“I will start slowly, so you can hear the particular inflections easily, then we will speed up so that you are comfortable using it conversationally.”

So long as it is only ever spoken for me, he wanted to add.

He was in full professor mode, working through things slowly- being patient when you became frustrated, but never sugarcoating what needed to be corrected. In no time the diminutive was rolling off your lips with practiced ease.

“Thanks for the lesson, zoloste, although I still think it sounds better when you say it.”

You loved watching his mouth move, seeing the unique way his lips would curl- stressing vowels, gliding over consonants. It was positively mesmerizing.

“What did I do to earn a look such as that?” he questioned coyly, somewhat confused by the appreciative way you were gazing at his lips.

“I just- I like it, your accent I mean,” you admitted through a mouthful of oats.

Oh, that was a surprise.

“Really? You- enjoy the way I talk?” he asked, a shadow of doubt tugging at his features.

“What? Is that hard to believe?” you were curious.

It was hard for him to believe, the way he spoke was just another signal to others that he was abnormal- that he was lesser- that he was to be avoided.

“Let me just say this, others are not always kind to those who are different- this is a familiar topic of discussion, no?”

His nonchalance was betrayed by the sadness in his eyes, a window to old wounds- wounds you wished desperately to heal with loving words and tender kisses.

“We’ve already established, I like you just the way you are, wouldn’t change a thing even if I could,” you said firmly, needing him to know the words were true.

“Really- because I recall a particularly heated moment where- and correct me if I am mistaken, you said Why are you like this, I can’t ever forgive you.”

He’s baiting me, I know he’s baiting me-

“Viktor, that doesn’t count,” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “It was after you’d said you didn’t like my gingersnaps!”

“Cookies should not be spicy, it isn’t right,” he shot you a sassy look, standing to clear off the table before disappearing into the kitchen.

******

Viktor sat at the foot of the bed, straightening his tie before neatly lacing his shoes.

“What’re you all dressed up for,” you questioned. Really he wasn’t dressed up- just dressed, but you were still in pajamas.

“Jayce and I have a meeting with Professor Heimerdinger.”

“I thought labs were meant to be shut down all week?” you asked in confusion.

“Yes- well, he insisted it was more of an informal meeting, that he just had something brief to discuss with us,” Viktor shrugged on the heavy winter coat hanging by the door before continuing. “He also wanted to take a look at our most recent notes- we have a rough idea on how to control the teleportation fluctuations, perhaps stabilizing a gateway from a chosen location.”

“Would be good for trade, I suppose that’s what it’s intended for,” you commented with narrowed eyes.

“Eh- there were a few concessions made on how the end result would be used, my stipulations being that they are used just as much to improve undercity infrastructure as they are to line the pockets of councilors,” he spoke the words proudly.

“That's great! Did you bring up the waste disposal idea- I think that would be a better place to start? I mean- pollution is the number one cause of all health problems for the entire city, no use tackling malnourishment if everybody is dying of smog inhalation.”

He loved listening to you talk about research, you were so uniquely practical yet able to think of the most unexpected solutions. She is going to make a brilliant addition- if it is what she wants.

“Yes, I believe that was at the top of the list,” he assured.

“Good luck, and tell them both I said hello,” you moved to wrap your arms around his neck- hugging him goodbye.

“Of course,” he responded, leaving a quick kiss on your forehead before heading out into the snow.

The door shut behind him, and suddenly the prospect of a bit of alone time in the apartment was all too appealing.

******* *******

Viktor made it halfway there before realizing he’d forgotten something important- the specific notes Professor Heimerdinger had wanted to take a look at.

They really were necessary, so he’d have to double back. He wasn’t fond of being late- but it couldn’t be avoided. Oh well, it’s winter shutdown anyways.

Walking back at as fast a pace as his leg would allow, he hurriedly threw open the door, intent on finding his notes quickly.

He froze- mouth going dry.

You were on the bed, freshly showered judging by the damp tangles of your hair- and completely nude.

One arm stretched above your head, tightly fisted into bunched sheets. Legs spread invitingly wide, fingers slowly sliding through your wet folds. Your eyes were shut tightly, and you let out the sweetest little groans of pleasure.

Viktor stood there silently, too shocked by the sight before him to know what to do. Obviously he couldn’t keep standing here, watching while you were unaware- but gods was he just to clear his throat and say, Excuse me- sorry for the interruption, I forgot my notebook.

Then you said it- softly, but loud enough that he could not mistake it for anything else.

“Mmm- Viktor please,” slowly sliding a wet finger inside yourself.

The words caused him to let out a strangled groan, feeling all the blood in his body rush southward. Alerted by the sound, your eyes shot open, legs snapping closed in panic.

“Viktor,” you squeaked out, in a decidedly less pleased voice than from moments ago.

“I forgot my notes,” the words rushed shakily from his lips as he stood there- still stuck in place.

To say you were mortified would be an understatement, of all the ways you’d imagined Viktor finally seeing you spread out across the covers- this wasn’t one of them. Oh gods, how long was he there, did he hear what I said?

“You said my name,” he blurted, amber eyes wide in astonishment. Okay, he definitely heard what I said.

“Uh- well I- uhm,” you stuttered, the weight of his gaze scrambling all coherency.

“Why did you say my name?” The question came out before he could stop himself.

Viktor knew why, he was no fool- but some hungry and wanting desire within him needed to hear you say the words aloud. Some piece of him that still clung on to that last shred of insecurity, that maybe there was a chance he’d been reading things all wrong.

“Really, Viktor?” you snapped, finding your voice again. “You’re supposed to be a genius, I’m sure you can figure it out for yourself,” you shot him a skeptical look.

He simply shrugged, waiting to see if you would confirm his hopeful suspicions.

“I was thinking about you, okay?” you mumbled quietly.

Hearing you say it aloud punched the air from his lungs, he wanted nothing more than to cross the short distance separating you. Perhaps settle in the space between your legs that had earlier been spread so enticingly.

“You were thinking about me? While you- err, while you were-”

“Yes!” you shouted. “Okay? YES, would you like me to say it again?”

“I would not be opposed to hearing…” his cheeky remark was cut off as you forcefully threw a pillow his way, looking even more enchanting as you scowled up at him.

“I am sorry for interrupting your, eh- private moment. I will grab my notes and leave you to continue.”

You watched him go, belatedly realizing you’d never bothered to cover up during the entire interaction. Did that really just happen?

As panic subsided, you couldn't help but replay the dark quirk of his lips, that devilishly sneaky little comment- the way his eyes shamelessly wandered your exposed form. You liked the thought of being the only one he looked at like that- of being the only one who would get the absolute pleasure of taking him apart.

Meanwhile, Viktor walked to his meeting in a daze. Wondering how he could ever look at the bed again without seeing you, gloriously naked- legs spread in invitation.

******* ******* *******

Jayce waited in the Professor's office, becoming more worried as the minutes ticked by. It was not like Viktor to be late, and unheard of for him to be late for a meeting with someone such as Heimerdinger.

Finally he arrived- looking a bit ruffled, explaining that he’d had to go back for a particular set of notes.

Jayce couldn't put his finger on it, but something had changed in his partner. It was always the eyes that gave Viktor away. Talented as he may be at controlling his body language or carefully schooling his expressions- Viktor’s eyes held a certain gleam that couldn't be stifled.

“Not a problem, I appreciate you going back for them,” the Professor thanked, setting the journal down on his desk.

“Now, down to business,” he looked up at the young researchers excitedly. “I have some good new for you boys, in light of the recent Hextech breakthroughs the council has decided to fund a new lab- much larger than the one you’re occupying now.”

The boys looked at each other in surprise, Jayce reacting first- reaching to wrap an excited arm around Viktor’s shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze.

“That’s amazing news!” Jayce began babbling. “Where is the new lab? Oh and when are we moving? I wonder how much we’ll be able to do with more space?”

“Are there strings attached?” Viktor asked bluntly, he wasn’t Jayce- he couldn’t afford to have a trusting nature, not when there was so much at stake.

Heimerdinger looked at Viktor appraisingly, as if he was seeing him for the first time. “No, my boy, the conditions outlined in our previous meeting still stand, all of the conditions,” he said meaningfully.

“Then, that is indeed excellent news,” a small smile graced Viktor’s lips.

“-And of course with the new lab comes attached living quarters, should you choose to use them- they are quite spacious” the Professor added offhandedly.

Viktor’s mind immediately went to you. Things had just settled down, the both of you were happy in your little apartment. But he could finally give you more, a proper home the two of you could grow into- build a life together. Would you want to move? If you didn’t he would stay put, simple as that.

Jayce watched Viktor closely, easily guessing that it was you on his mind- he was probably overthinking things. Jayce knew you would be thrilled, knew that you’d be happy to accompany them. But- wait, surely somebody must know by now that you were tagging along- spending most of your time in a private high priority academy research lab was a fairly obvious tip off?

He really needed to have a private discussion with Viktor after this meeting.

“Oh and before I forget, you boys have been invited to the academy's private winter cocktail party- it seems there are more than a few individuals eager to see the faces behind the revolution of Hextech.”

Oh, that would be interesting. Viktor had never attended, even in all his years working closely with the professor- and Jayce wouldn't have been either as the guest list was fairly exclusive.

“Thank you Professor, we look forward to seeing you there,” Jayce said warmly.

“You as well my boy, and each of you are more than welcome to bring a guest of your own,” he happily offered, once again sliding his gaze to Viktor meaningfully.

“Well I think that concludes our business- thank you for dropping by on such short notice,” both men moved to leave, halfway out the door before the professor spoke up. “Viktor, if I could have a quick word?”

Jayce sent Viktor a look that screamed, we will be talking about this later, before shutting the door behind him.

Viktor stood there, waiting to hear what the Professor had to say.

“Have you had a chance to think about my proposal? I know the news I’ve just delivered may need to be discussed before you come to a decision?”

“Yes, but before I ask her I’ll need to discuss it with Jayce- just to make certain,” Viktor responded.

“Very well, that sounds like a good idea- but I’d like an answer by the end of winter shutdown.” Heimerdinger knew it would not do well to put off a conversation as important as this one.

“You’ll have one,” he assured, leaving the office with a bit of nervous energy buzzing through his mind.

He half expected to see Jayce waiting by the door to grill him for information, and upon rounding the corner his suspicions were confirmed.

“What was that about,” he immediately began an onslaught of questioning.

“There is much we must discuss,” he admitted. “I need to pick up a few things at the library, walk with me?”

*******

Viktor walked into the library with a newfound sense of purpose. His conversation with Jayce had gone wonderfully- and all that was left was to talk to you. But he had a few things to take care of first.

He was a scientist at heart- and when taking a risk, nothing was more important than minimizing the unknown. After today, Viktor realized there was a glaring gap in his education that was becoming increasingly pressing.

Sure, he had a rudimentary knowledge of anatomy, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted more than anything to reduce you to a pile of desperation and quivering nerves- to show you in the most intimate of ways how deep his love ran.

There was no shortage of things he’d wished to do after seeing you spread across the bed this morning, an endless flood of ideas that became more indecent by the minute. But he lacked experience and all its accompanying knowledge- although it wasn’t something he necessarily felt embarrassed about.

In his mind- this was right, this was how things were meant to be. How could he ever want anyone who wasn’t you?

So here he was, darting from aisle to aisle in the public library- an arm full of texts regarding female pleasure. Not even the judgmental look from the desk clerk could dampen his spirits, simply smiling and wishing her a pleasant evening on his way out.

*******

You were perched on the couch reading when Viktor finally got home- and your eyes zeroed in on his slower than usual pace. It had been a rather strenuous day, and although he looked nothing short of happy- you knew his leg must be bothering him.

“Come sit- and pants off, you can tell me about your meeting while I work.”

He complied easily, this had become somewhat of a routine whenever you noticed him walking stiffly. Stripping out of his trousers, he sat next to you on the sofa- allowing you to pull his leg into your lap.

“Jayce and I have been invited to the private academy cocktail party,” he started, watching you begin above the juncture of his knee.

“Oh, that’s a big deal- you guys will have the chance to meet a lot of important figures there- really start cementing the future of Hextech,” you responded, knowing how important networking would start to become as their research grew.

“I would like you to accompany me,” he asked, feeling your hands pause in their movements.

“Really? Is that allowed?” you questioned, and he could see a glimpse of excitement in your eyes.

“Yes, it is allowed” he chuckled. “And I really would have a dreadful time without you there, so I hope you’ll come,” and how could you say anything but yes when he batted those long lashes at you so sweetly.

“Of course I’ll go, I love a good party,” you said happily, finishing up at his ankle with firm swirls of your thumbs.

Gods he loved it when you touched him, you offered your touch so freely- it was intoxicating. The gentle massages- the soft way you would cling to him in your sleep- every time he left, no matter how long he would be gone, you pulled him into a snug farewell embrace.

“Excellent,” he beamed radiantly. “Caitlin will be by tomorrow with some dresses.”

“You knew I’d say yes, huh?” you raise a teasing brow at him.

“I may have had a small inkling,” he confirmed, oozing self-satisfaction.

Should he broach earlier's incident? Perhaps not since you seemed perfectly at ease, not interested in bringing it up yourself. It didn’t matter, he had studying to do after all.

“I’m gonna go make cream horns,” you informed him, ruffling his hair on your way to the kitchen.

Viktor settled comfortably on the couch, getting to work on the pile of books tucked in his satchel, it would be an informative evening.

*******

Jayce had shown up much too early that morning to drag Viktor off for a suit fitting, apparently the boys didn’t have anything up to par for the party either.

Now you nervously paced the fence bordering the Kiramman estate, waiting for Cait to come out and meet you- two boxes of cream horns stacked precariously in your grip.

This was a daunting prospect, how many gowns could she possibly have? You’d asked Jayce that question this morning, after he’d said Cait was expecting you at her place midday, and he had merely laughed- giving you a short good luck.

“Good, you made it!” you looked up to see her unlatching the gate, smiling in amusement at the boxes you toted.

“Of course, it’s kind of hard to miss,” you joked, nodding toward the massive building.

“Here let me help you,” she reached for a box, signaling for you to follow. “You know, you really don’t have to do this,” Cait held up the pastries meaningfully.

“And you didn’t have to help me with finding a dress, or replacing all my clothing,” you countered with a smile.

“Alright fair enough,” she shrugged. “Thanks though, these are really good.”

“I did some chocolate ones this time as well, let me know what you think,” you asked her eagerly.

Entering into a spacious foyer, she led you up the sprawling staircase and down a maze of halls, before finally turning a finely adorned handle. The room you entered was filled with mirrors, a few mannequins styled in lavish gowns- and closet doors lining either wall.

Cait kicked off her shoes before unceremoniously taking a large bite of the chocolate cream filled horn, letting out a loud noise of enjoyment.

“Ugh- are you sure you’re in love with that scrawny scientist, because damn these are good,” she flirted playfully.

You smacked a palm to your forehead, groaning in frustration. “Does everyone know? It seems like everyone has talked about this besides Viktor and I.”

“The two of you have all the subtlety of Jayce holding a neon sign,” she teased, covering the pastries before moving to open one of the closet doors.

“Yeah well subtle was never really my strong suit,” you grumbled, eyeing the rows of dresses nervously. Caitlin watched your trepidation with unmasked amusement.

“It may surprise you to hear, but I’m actually a hopeless romantic- so how could I pass up the opportunity to find you the perfect dress to confess your undying love in,” she swooned dramatically, making you let out a light snort. “Besides, I have to go to this stupid gala every year, at least now I’ll actually have people I like to talk to.”

You caught a glimpse of something under her confident façade, something sad. It must have been lonely- all these years stuck at parties, surrounded by very few friends and too many expectations.

“What should I expect?” you asked, watching her flit from closet to closet grabbing different gowns.

“Don’t worry, people are going to judge you no matter what- so you might as well be yourself,” she responded bluntly, something you’d always appreciated about her.

“That bad, huh?”

“They’re vicious and cruel, not much else to do besides gossip and grab for power when you’re already at the top,” she said the words conversationally, pulling out different pairs of shoes from various cupboards.

“I’m glad to be going then, I don’t think the boys really understand what they’ve started- what they’re research means,” you paused, trying to find the right words to express your concern. “I have this sinking feeling that… to people at the gala, they’re just tools to be controlled- or assets to be appraised,” the thought was enough to spark venom in your veins.

“Good, you get it then. The boys think this is just a party- too blinded by their love of the research to understand the political nuances, Jayce more so than Viktor. Tomorrow night will be about standing our ground, cementing our places to the others as part of their inner circle.”

She finally finished moving about the room, turning to you with a serious gaze.

“Jayce is their shiny new icon, Viktor is sliding under the radar- he’s easily overlooked when Jayce fits their golden boy archetype so perfectly,” you felt the disdain dripping from her every word.

“I think Viktor will have made a few waves by now, after insisting that the new Hextech developments be used to improve undercity infrastructure,” you countered, feeling the information was important to share.

“Even better,” she hissed sarcastically. “Instead of a nonentity he’s become a threat, then people will certainly be trying to drive a wedge between them- probably thinking Jayce might be more easily swayed by the limelight.”

“We won’t let that happen,” you responded fiercely, gripping her hand in your own.

“They’re lucky to have us,” she gave you a rueful smile. “Now, I already know which dress you’re going to wear- but let's try a few on anyways for fun.”

*******

“This is ridiculous, it’s too many pieces,” Jayce grumbled from the changing room.

“You’re the one who was so very excited by the invitation, this is all part of the high-society charm,” Viktor shot back, waiting outside the stall for Jayce.

“Yeah well I thought the academy uniform was restricting, but this takes the cake,” rustling fabric and frustrated grunts sounded through the curtain barrier.

“Restricting you from what exactly?” Viktor questioned in an amused tone.

“You know, this and that- ugh, I just want to be comfortable,” he finally surfaced, coming out with a grumpy expression on his tanned face. “How did you get yours on so fast?”

“Ah see, you look great,” Viktor encouraged, stepping aside to give Jayce a view in the full length mirror. And he had to admit, they did look pretty good- they made a good team.

Jayce studied himself- surprised by the way his crisp black suit accented the strong angles of his form- bringing out the darkness in his features and the deepness of his eyes.

He was in even more awe at the sight of Viktor. Perfectly tailored lines of midnight blue fabric contrasted his creamy skin, bringing out the golden hue of his amber eyes. He looked positively lethal- tall and lithe posture commanding the kind of strength forged in the fires of pain and strife.

They didn’t look like two lost boys who’d risked everything on a gamble, they looked ready to change the world without asking permission, they looked powerful.

“We look great,” he put an arm around Viktor’s shoulder, trying to pour all the love and appreciation and respect he had for his partner into a single look.

“I want to tell you,” Viktor cleared his throat. “I need you to know- because I do not say it as much as I should, that I am proud of us- and very proud of you,” he finished thickly, arm reaching up to gently cup the back of Jayce’s neck.

Jayce pulled Viktor close, hugging him tightly and most definitely not wiping wetness from his eyes.

“Before we return home, would you mind helping me pick something up?” he asked Jayce, an eager gleam in his eyes.

*******

“When are you gonna talk to her?” Jayce questioned enthusiastically, sitting across from Viktor on the apartment’s worn recliner.

“Tomorrow, after the gala,” Viktor looked towards the bed longingly. “I’m going to ask her.”

“Ugh- finally, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Jayce groaned in relief.

“I think you are being a bit over dramatic, no?” Viktor quirked a sharp brow.

“Absolutely not- not after the day she wore that pink dress, and I had to watch a puddle of drool slowly gather below your open mouth,” he laughed at the audible snap of Viktor's jaw, a sure signal that he’d won the argument.

“Can I borrow those diagrams, the ones for the stabilization beacon- I wanted to go over them again to try and nail down those frequency cycles,” Jayce asked.

“Of course, they should be right next to you- in my bag,” Viktor said without thinking, gesturing to the other side of the chair. It wasn’t until Jayce began opening the bag that Viktor realized his mistake.

Opening his mouth to stop him, it didn’t take long for Viktor to find out he’d been too late.

Jayce let out a sound of surprise before sending Viktor a grin that was positively dripping with glee, his brows climbing higher as he sifted through the stack of books.

“Doing a little light reading are we?” Jayce asked, a sneaky smirk resting high on his cheeks.

“Ah- I err- well you see,” Viktor found himself quite flustered by the unexpected turn in conversation. This was not a topic of discussion the two of them had ever engaged in, and he was unsure of how to respond.

“You know- you don’t need all that,” Jayce said gently, snapping the bag shut and returning it to the floor.

“I wish to be prepared, it is important that she know- how much I care for her,” Viktor admitted, feeling vulnerability prick at his skin.

Jayce had never really been sure about his friends romantic experiences. Viktor was a complex man, the more he opened up the more Jayce realized- he really had no idea what Viktor had been through. It wasn’t surprising to hear Viktor was a virgin- but it would be equally unsurprising for Jayce to find out he’d slept his way through half the high council. He was a man capable of great extremes.

Knowing this was an important milestone in their friendship, Jayce put aside the dozen or so jokes waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“You already have the important stuff, the love and the trust- now you just gotta,” he gesticulated in a confusing manner.

“Y’know, learn together- what you like or what feels good,” Jayce trailed off shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed under Viktor's intense gaze.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are surprisingly wise?” Viktor couldn’t fight the upward tug of his lips.

“You know- I actually have heard that before,” Jayce laughed, leaning forward in the chair. “Now- if you really wanted to learn something, I could give you a few tips?” he offered, a bit of cockiness invading his tone.

“I’m listening,” Viktor responded, scooting closer in rapt attention.

*******

[midnight-motorist]

If Holding You Will Heal You, I Never Wanna Let You Go (Tumblr Ver.)

//HUGE TW FOR SELF-HARM, PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACKS, TRANSPHOBIA, AND MANIPULATION//

I’m a sad and lonely tranny with mommy issues who loves Michael Afton; and the other day I was feeling the spicy sads, so I wrote this poorly disguised vent :>

The reader pays a visit to their gaslighting mother after ghosting her for a couple years, thinking she’s had a change of heart. Things go downhill very quickly, and that is where our story begins.

As if in a dream, or more accurately a nightmare, I drifted away from the harsh words driving needles into my ears and my mind. They sounded oddly muffled, like they were lost in the distance and smothered by a fog that looked and felt almost like static. It gushed into my brain and filled it to the brim, roiling and scratching at the inside of my skull like sentient monochrome sandpaper; spilling out through my eyes as streaks of hot moisture, the grating static rubbing my eyes and cheeks raw.

Soon the angry voices were lost to the fog and physical distance as I somehow made it to my car. With silence there came an unbearable pressure and a terrible buzzing sensation, as if billions of insect legs were skittering across my flesh from the inside. All I wanted to do was climb out of my own skin and run free; anything to lose this feeling that plagued me, that hunted me like a bloodhound on the scent of a crippled rabbit. The entire drive was an incoherent blur, and my body was home before my thoughts had time to catch up.

As I climbed the front stairs in a daze, regretting with each step my choice to visit my mother again, the itching buzz of the insect legs in the skin of my chest, feet, and hands incrementally began to turn to what felt like innumerable silver needles sinking through my skin. Memories began to flood in; all of them terrible, all of them painful.

I stumbled into the bathroom as I began to hyperventilate, desperation pushing my hand into the back of the smallest drawer. My fingers closed around the cold metal of the pocket knife, my heart already calming and arms already burning in response to the familiar weight of the blade in my hand. I flicked it across an empty spot on my arm, and I immediately felt the panic begin to drain from my head and flow down my arm with the thin stream of blood. The relief was instantaneous and just what I needed, so I opened a few more new exits for the black tangle of emotional sickness to escape through. I set the knife down, attention zeroing in strangely on the fact that I’d have to clean up the blood before Michael got home.

The chilliness of the wall helped focus my mind a bit as I leaned against it and slid down to sit on the floor. The reality of my situation finally sunk in, and the pain rose within me once again, more manageable this time thanks to my (admittedly unhealthy) coping mechanism. Why the hell did I ever even think going back there could be anything but a disaster? Goddamn my bleeding heart. That manipulative, bigoted, bane-of-my-existence excuse for a mother knew full well why I’d cut contact with her, and I thought I knew that as well, but no; I had let compassion sway my judgement.

My heart had jumped at the chance to make amends, and I had dared to hope she’d had a change of heart. I had wanted it, ached for it. But it was only another attempt to manipulate me and make me feel like a monster for simply wanting to live freely the way I felt was right for me. Just because I was her child now instead of her daughter didn’t mean she had to treat me like something stuck to her shoe.

Weren’t mothers supposed to love you? Weren’t they supposed to hold you and comfort you when life raked you through the mud? Wasn’t that something people did when they truly cared for one another? I put my head in my hands as gut-wrenching sobs wracked my body.

So lost in my grief was I that I didn’t hear the bedroom door open, nor the footsteps that paused for a moment before speeding up and heading to the bathroom. I only noticed something was different a few seconds before the door creaked open and Michael stuck his head in. The first thing he saw was the knife dripping red on the counter. Our eyes met, and I saw the shock and pained understanding blooming behind his eyes as he took in my tear-streaked face and bloodied arms.

“Oh, love, what happened to you?”

“God, Michael; I- I’m so sorry. I should never have done this. I never should’ve risked reminding you of what you went through.”

My voice shook and cracked like a building’s foundation in an earthquake. I buried my face in my arms, hating that I did something like this knowing he could find out. He didn’t need any more upheaval in his life, and being forcibly reminded of his old self-harm problem was the last thing I wanted for him.

I was still thinking in circles when I felt a pair of soft, warm arms wrap around me, and heard an equally soft and warm voice murmuring sweet, comforting assurances in my ear.

“Don’t worry about me; you’re the one bleeding. Let me take care of you for a change.”

He helped clean the blood from my arms, then led me to our bed, arm around my shoulder hugging me to his side. We curled up together in the nest of fluffy blankets and I buried my head against his chest, shuddering as I relaxed to the feeling of one hand rubbing circles up and down my back and the other running softly through my hair, sending warm tingles sparking across everywhere he touched. His whispers of comfort had me pressing nearer to him until I physically couldn’t get any closer. My hitching breaths slowed and evened out as his words and movements chased away my pain bit by bit.

We laid in a bubble of perfect peace, completely wrapped up in each other; limbs tangled until you couldn’t see where one of us ended and the other began, breaths mingling as they fell into tandem. I felt all of my dark thoughts fleeing before the angelic light that emanated from the dearest person in my life. He buried his face in my hair, nuzzling closer to me and pressing kisses gentle as the brush of butterfly wings to the top of my head. Pure bliss swelled in my heart, and I found myself smiling and thanking my lucky stars for sending someone so truly and completely good into my life.

He was the light of my life, and we understood each other on such a deep level that there was rarely any need to talk about how we felt; we communicated our emotions almost entirely through actions. Words often failed humanity anyway. How could mere words ever describe the true, deep kind of adoration. Not fluttery stomachs or passionate lust; it’s a love that aches . It sinks into your bones and consumes your entire being; shining outwards in a soft halo of light only the object of your affection can see. It makes you kinder, less rough around the edges; you want to do everything in your power to make your love happy, and their pain brings you to your knees in sympathy.

Slowly, I felt my eyes grow heavy; the safety of his embrace lulling my mind and body. Nothing could hurt me when he held me in his arms. As I drifted into sleep, I wondered briefly if this was how he felt when I held him. I need to do it even more often, then. If it helps him feel this loved, I never wanna let him go.

[hyogonokitsune]

longing -- suna rintarou x reader

college!au, tw alcohol use, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of angst, some smut at the end because I can’t fucking help myself 🥴 (oral -- m and f receiving, choking, creampie, cockwarming hnnff)

11,600 words

--

“Hey, ‘Samu, I gotta go lie down.” You had to practically yell to hear yourself over the music blaring from the speakers. Osamu was less than two feet from you, but you might as well have been yelling from a mile away.

“Huh?”

“I said I gotta go—fuck! Where’s your room?” You had to speak directly into his ear to make yourself understood; Osamu leaned in close to respond to you.

You hadn’t had that much to drink, but the atmosphere of the party was wearing you down. The insanely loud music and the crush of so many sweaty bodies were starting to give you a headache, and you were in desperate need of a quiet place to recharge. Most of the people were crowded into the living areas of the house, so you decided to escape to your friend’s upstairs bedroom to catch your breath.

You shut his door behind you, muffling the sounds of the party downstairs, and laid down on the bed, closing your eyes. Even here, you could feel the bass pounding in your head.

The door opened then, but when you lifted your head to look, it wasn’t Osamu standing in the room. You groaned; you definitely were not in the mood to deal with a random guy.

“Can I help you?” you asked in a hard voice, sitting up to look at him better.

“Can I help you?” he replied, utterly deadpan. He walked over to the desk in the corner and plugged his phone into a charger, his back facing you. “You’re in my room.”

“What? This is Osamu’s room.”

“’Samu’s room is the last door on the left. This is the last one on the right.” He turned around to look at you, his expression indifferent.

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake, quickly hopping off his bed. “I’m so sorry! I must have misheard him. I just needed to get away from there,” you explained, gesturing towards the door.

He smirked at you. “Too much to drink?”

“No, there are just too many people down there, felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

His expression softened at your words. “Yeah, that’s why I came up here, too.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” you said, moving towards the door.

“You’re Osamu and Atsumu’s friend, right?” he said, stopping you. “They said one of their old friends was gonna come over tonight.”

Your hand dropped from the doorknob as you nodded, telling him your name.

“I’m Suna,” he said.

“Oh! You went to high school with them, right? They’ve told me about you.”

“Nothing good, I bet,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a grin.

“Almost all good things,” you responded truthfully.

“’Almost’”, he repeated, a low laugh escaping him. Suna watched you for a moment, looking as if he was thinking about something. “You can hang out here, if you want,” he said, motioning for you to sit back on the bed as he pulled out his desk chair. “As long as you don’t puke on anything.”

“I told you, I didn’t drink that much!” you huffed, but you sat down all the same. You had wanted to get away from all the noisy people downstairs, but this guy seemed laidback enough that he wouldn’t make your headache worse; besides, you were interested in talking to someone who had known the twins in high school.

Suna put on a playlist from his phone, setting the volume just loud enough to block out the house music blasting from downstairs. “You’ve known them a while, yeah?”

You nodded. “Since we were kids, but I didn’t go to Inarizaki with them.”

“Good call.”

“They’re not that bad!” you laughed. “Don’t tell them this, but I actually missed seeing them every day, so it’s nice that we ended up going to the same university.”

“Maybe I will tell them that, then they’ll spend more time harassing you instead of me.”

“Don’t you dare.”

You both laughed then, before falling into an easy silence. You shifted to get more comfortable on his bed, crossing your legs underneath you.

“Do you not like parties?” you asked.

“They’re alright,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not too crazy about having ten thousand strangers in my house, though.”

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head. “Yeah, what’s fun about having random drunk people sweating all over you? I’d rather just hang out with a few friends, ya know?”

He snorted. “Hopefully it’ll be more like that in the future, but Atsumu really wanted to throw a big party for the start of the semester.”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes. “He just wanted to introduce himself to as many girls as possible.”

“Yeah, that was his not-so-secret motive.”

There was another pause. Suna scrolled through his phone, searching for something.

“You wanna see some embarrassing photos of the twins?”

“Yes, absolutely I do.”

He grinned, unplugging his phone to come sit next to you on the bed. He leaned in close, tilting his screen so you could see it. “Oh, here’s a good one,” he said, trying to suppress a smile as he showed you a picture of Osamu lying face down on the ground. “He tripped when we were jogging, completely ate shit.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the image, especially with Atsumu in the foreground holding up a peace sign over his brother’s body.

Most of the photos were of the two of them fighting; having grown up with the twins, it was a little comforting to see that they acted the same around their new friends as they always had with you. You felt somewhat nostalgic at the thought.

Suna paused on a closeup photo of Atsumu, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to swat the camera away. “Ah, this was after he got rejected by a girl and he swore he wasn’t crying.”

“Oh my god, I totally remember that day!” you said, laughing hard. “’Samu called me, begging me to talk some sense into ’Tsumu because he kept whining about being turned down.”

“Seriously? God, knowing that makes this so much better,” Suna said, a crooked grin on his face.

“Please don’t tell him I told you that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

He showed you nearly three years’ worth of pictures, pausing at the memorable ones to tell you the stories behind them. It was easy talking to him; you felt able to laugh naturally and relax around him despite being strangers, something that you weren’t able to do with most people you just met.

You didn’t realize how long you and Suna had been talking until you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket; seeing that it was a call from Osamu, you answered it.

“Y/n, did you leave?”

You were surprised by the panicky note in his voice. “No, I told you I was going upstairs.”

“Yeah? Well where the fuck are ya, ’cause I’m standing in my room and you’re not in here.”

“I’m in Suna’s room—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you heard footsteps stomp across the hall and the door flew open.

“What the hell are ya doing in here?” Osamu asked, still holding his phone up to his cheek.

“We’re fucking, obviously,” Suna deadpanned. You giggled, but Osamu didn’t look amused.

“I got the rooms mixed up, ’Samu,” you explained, getting up off the bed. “Suna’s just been telling me about your time in high school.”

“Oh, great,” Osamu said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s late, you want me to walk ya back to your dorm?”

“Can you even walk, or are you too drunk?”

“It’s Atsumu you should be worried about. He fell asleep on the couch downstairs.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you laughed. You made your way over to Osamu, turning at the door to address Suna. “It was nice talking to you, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He was scrolling through his phone again, only giving you a brief disinterested glance. “Yeah, see you.”

 --

 You poked your head into Osamu’s room, only to find that it was empty. It was a little disappointing; you had been hoping to hang out with him for a bit, since you hadn’t had time to see much of him that week, but if he wasn’t around there was nothing to be done about it. The book you had borrowed from him a few weeks ago was already in your hand, so you placed it on his desk and turned to leave.

Stepping back into the hallway, you noticed that the door across from Osamu’s was open. You casually glanced inside as you walked past, catching Suna’s eye from where he sat in front of his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he parroted as he took his headphones off his ears.

“I came by to return a book that Osamu lent me, but I guess he’s not around.”

“I think he’s meeting with a professor.”

“Ah.” You fell silent, and Suna turned his attention back to his laptop. “What are you reading?” you asked.

He looked up again, his expression a little sheepish. “You’re gonna think it’s boring.”

“Try me.”

He sighed. “It’s an article analyzing the influence of Shakespeare’s histories on English nationalism.”

Your face brightened as you spoke. “That was published last week, right? I bookmarked that so I could read it when I got the chance.”

Suna looked surprised at your response, his eyes widening slightly. “It’s pretty interesting so far.”

“I have to say, though, you didn’t strike me as the type to be into that kind of stuff,” you said, just a hint of a teasing tone in your voice.

His expression was blank again as he responded, “Well, I am a literature major.”

“So am I!” you said, smiling at him as you walked into his room and leaned against his desk. “I don’t think we have any classes together, though.”

“It’s a big school.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You paused, thinking of a way to keep the conversation going. “What’s your favorite Shakespeare play?”

Suna glanced up at the ceiling, bottom lip rolling between his teeth as he thought. “I guess I’d say Hamlet. There’s just so much shit going on.”

“Ah, so you love the drama of it all,” you laughed. “I think it’s a tie between Hamlet and Macbeth for me. The twist at the end is just—” you cut yourself off to do a chef’s kiss, prompting Suna to laugh a little.

“‘Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripped’, such a raw line.”

“Yes, exactly!” You were beaming at him, happy to learn that you shared a common interest. Over the course of the last few weeks since you first met Suna, you hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know him, despite him being your best friends’ roommate. He usually kept to himself, and on the few occasions when he joined you and the twins to play video games or get dinner together, he didn’t talk much. He seemed like a naturally reserved person, and as you remembered this, you felt a small pang of guilt for disturbing him.

“Well, I’ll let you finish that article,” you said, getting off his desk and making for the door.

His voice stopped you before you could leave. “You can hang out here until Osamu gets back, if you want.” You turned to face him, a little surprised.

“You sure? I don’t wanna bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” he said. “I can finish this whenever.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was a rare invitation coming from him. Your heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“Have you ever seen ‘Scotland, PA’?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“It’s an adaptation of Macbeth that takes place in a fast food restaurant.”

“Yeah?” he snorted, a grin appearing on his face. “You wanna watch it?” Before you could answer, he was unplugging his headphones and bringing his laptop over to you.

“Sure, if you want to,” you told him, feeling like you were really lucking out.

Suna sat on the floor at the foot of his bed, patting the spot at his side as he started searching for the movie. You sat down next to him, careful to leave a space between you.

When you watched movies with Atsumu and Osamu, their incessant talking usually got on your nerves pretty quickly, but you found that you didn’t mind listening to Suna’s comments. Watching the film together seemed to make any lingering awkwardness between you two disappear, and before long you were laughing and leaning into each other.

“Oh, I hate this part!” you groaned when you reached a certain scene, turning to press your face into Suna’s shoulder.

“Jesus, that’s fucked up,” he chuckled, grimacing as Duncan’s character fell face-first into a deep fryer.  

“Then why are you laughing!” you said, lifting your head, but you couldn’t keep your own laughter from bubbling up in your chest. Suna gave you a crooked grin, your reaction only making him laugh harder.

“Oi, Sunarin! You got a girl in there or something?” Osamu’s voice floated in through the open door, his head appearing a moment later. His eyes widened when he spotted you. “What the hell are ya doin’ here?”

“Hello to you, too, ’Samu,” you said dryly. “I came here to return your book, but you were too busy to see me, I guess.”

“Took ya long enough,” he grumbled, but he grinned at you all the same. “I’m starving, you wanna grab something to eat?”

“Yeah, later,” you said, turning to look at Suna. “There’s still a bit left in this movie, you wanna finish it now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a little surprised that you’d postpone hanging out with your friend to finish the movie with him.

“Ugh, fiiiine,” Osamu groaned, rolling his eyes at you, “guess I’ll go shower, then. But don’t take too long, I’m so fuckin’ hungry.”

 --

 “Maaaan, I can’t wait until this semester’s over,” Atsumu sighed. “I feel like it’s draggin’ by.”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to go home for break.”

The two of you were standing on a patch of grass outside the gym, passing a volleyball back and forth. It was chilly, your breath coming out in silvery puffs, but after spending most of your time inside studying for the past week, you had both wanted to get some fresh air.

“I just know I’m gonna fail my bio final.”

“You’ll be fine, ’Tsumu,” you chuckled as you bumped the ball back to him. “You’ve been studying more in the last few days than I’ve seen you do in your entire life.”

“Hey, I studied in high school!” he huffed, his face contorting in mock annoyance as he set the ball. “Just ask Suna!”

The mention of his roommate’s name made your stomach flutter, causing you to mess up the course of the ball.

Atsumu quickly stepped to the side to get under it, giving you a nice, high set in return. “Jeez, you’ve really let your skills slip, huh?” he teased, grinning at you.

“Shut up, piss head.” Your cheeks were already pink from the cold, but you felt them heating up.

“Why don’t you play anymore anyway? I’m pretty sure there’s a women’s club on campus.”

You shrugged as you responded. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’m good enough to play for a college team.”

“Bullshit.”

You heaved a sigh. “Fine. I just think it’d be weird to play on a new team. I liked my old team, ya know? All my good memories are of them, I don’t think it would be fun to have to learn a whole new dynamic with new people. I’d feel like I was… I don’t know, like I was cheating on them or something.”

Atsumu looked at you like you’d just told him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “That’s still bullshit.”

“Well I don’t expect you to understand, you freak. You wouldn’t care who your teammates are, as long as you get to play volleyball.” You gave him a smile as you passed him the ball. “I still have fun playing with you and ’Samu, though.”

“You better. If that ever changed, I’d have to rethink this whole friendship.”

You both laughed, but a part of you wondered how serious he really was.

“Fuck, okay my fingers are actually starting to go numb. Can we go inside now?” you asked, shoving your bright red hands into your jacket pockets.

“Yeah, you wanna grab some dinner?”

“Definitely.”

The two of you set off for the campus dining hall, huddled close together for warmth. The sun was just beginning to set, making the bare trees cast long, spindly shadows on the path in front of you. You quickened your pace, shivering a little.

The dining hall was just beginning to fill up; you and Atsumu managed to grab a table near the back of the room before all the spots were taken. You wrapped your freezing hands around your bowl of soup, savoring the warmth. Atsumu wasted no time digging into his own meal.

“You might wanna wipe that rice off your face, ’Tsumu,” you told him in a low voice, “that girl over there is checking you out.”

“Huh?” he asked, his mouth full. His eyes glanced over to the direction where you were tilting your head. “Eh, whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face. “You still hooking up with that girl from your stats class?”

“Yeah, I actually really like her,” he said, swallowing a massive bite of food. “She’s sweet, and funny. And she’s really good at—”

“Stop,” you said, holding up a hand. “I really don’t wanna know.”

He smirked at you. “I was gonna say helping me study. Jeez, what were you thinking about?”

You bit your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile.

“What about you? You been seeing anyone?”

“You know damn well the only guys I hang out with are you and ’Samu.”

“And Suna,” he added. You took a big gulp of your soup so you wouldn’t have to say anything in response. He was right, though; lately you had been spending more time with Suna, even without the twins around. “I’m kinda surprised at Suna, actually,” Atsumu continued.

“What, that he’s hanging out with me?”

“No, that he’s not hanging out with any other girls.”

Your brow furrowed a little. You had assumed that Suna got around; he was handsome, after all, and he had that mysterious, reticent personality that most girls went crazy for.

“I mean, back in high school he was kinda known for just having a ton of hookups. I figured he’d keep that up in college. I don’t know, maybe he’s too busy now,” Atsumu mused.

You mulled it over in your head. It seemed to you like Suna had more free time now than he would have had in high school; almost every time you stopped by their house, he was either in his room reading or listening to music, or else playing games with the twins. You were pretty sure he could have fit in a hookup or two if he wanted.

“Maybe he just wants to focus on his classes,” you offered, but it didn’t sound realistic even as you said it.

Atsumu snorted. “Yeah, like he’s gonna trade pussy for his GPA.”

“Charming, ’Tsumu,” you sighed. “It’s not really any of our business what Suna gets up to, though.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little weird for him.” Atsumu’s arm stretched out to steal some food from your tray. “Maybe he’s met someone he really likes.”

His words made your stomach turn over, but you weren’t entirely sure why.

 --

 A few days into the spring semester, both Atsumu and Osamu came down with nasty colds. By the time the weekend rolled around, they were completely incapacitated, unable to do anything but huddle up together on the couch, sniffling sadly.

You had taken pity on your friends, so on Saturday night (after receiving several dramatic texts from Atsumu that he was dying), you decided to go over to their house to cook them dinner. The twins were curled up on the couch watching a movie, wrapped in thick blankets with used tissues scattered around the coffee table in front of them. From where you stood in the kitchen prepping ingredients, you had a clear view of them over the counter; the sight of them looking so sorry for themselves reminded you of all the times you had gone over their house to keep them company when they got sick as kids. You smiled to yourself, thinking of those fond memories.

“Y/n,” Atsumu whined from the living room, his blanket pulled up over the top of his head. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, baby. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him tighten the blanket around himself, a dopey grin on his face. “Y/n called me ‘baby’,” he said happily.

“Simp,” Osamu muttered under his breath.

Atsumu stuck a leg out from under his blanket to kick his brother. “Don’t be jealous, you scrub!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at them; their usual bickering sounded especially cute when their voices were so congested.

“Even when you’re sick you guys can’t shut up.” Suna had come downstairs, rubbing his eyes as he walked into the kitchen.

“Sunarin! Are you finally gonna hang out with us?” Atsumu asked excitedly.

“Absolutely not. I don’t wanna catch whatever weird disease you guys have—”

“You make us sound so disgusting,” Osamu grumbled.

“I just came down to get food,” Suna continued, grabbing a Cup Noodle from the cupboard.

“Oh no you’re not,” you said, snatching it out of his hands. “I’m making dinner for you guys.”

Suna’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but he didn’t object. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, watching as you dried the vegetables.

“Suna, could you chop up the mushrooms for me?” you asked. “Oh, but wash your hands first, please!”

Without saying a word, he did as you asked. You could hear Atsumu snickering from the couch.

“Talk about a simp. Y/n actually got Sunarin to help out in the kitchen,” he said, smirking. Suna balled up the paper towel he was using to dry his hands and chucked it at Atsumu’s head.

“You’ve got snot dripping down your face, dude.”

“Shut up!” Atsumu cried, sniffling as he burrowed deeper into his blanket.

With Suna’s help, prepping the ingredients went twice as fast. You expected him to leave the kitchen once it was done, but to your surprise he stayed, leaning against the counter again to watch you as you cooked. Occasionally he asked you a question about what you were doing.

“The chicken takes a little longer to cook than the veggies, so I’m adding that to the broth first,” you explained. “The order you add things affects the flavor, too.”

“How many times have I offered to teach ya to cook, Sunarin?” Osamu called from the other room. “Guess ya only wanna learn when Y/n’s doin’ the teaching.”

Suna glared at him over his shoulder before turning his attention back to what you were doing. “I didn’t really have to know how before.”

“It’s never too late to learn,” you reassured him.

“Nothin’ sexier than a man who knows how to cook!” Osamu yelled, grinning. Suna ignored him, but you noticed the tips of his ears turning pink.

When the food was nearly done, you asked Osamu to clear a space on the coffee table. With Suna’s help, you carried over the meal you had cooked together, setting down the steaming bowls of soup, rice, and vegetables in front of the twins.

“My nose is all stuffed up, but this still smells so good,” Atsumu said, eyes closed as he sniffed the air.

“Yeah, your cooking’s always the best, Y/n,” Osamu agreed as he reached out with both hands for a bowl of soup.

“Oh, I picked up your favorite tea on the way over here, too,” you said, going back to the kitchen.

“What?! You really are the best!” Atsumu wailed. You walked back into the living room, carrying two mugs in each hand. “What did we ever do to deserve you?”

“It’s a mystery to me,” you replied, but the smile on your face was gentle as you handed the twins their tea. You passed the third mug to Suna, and the look he gave you was nothing short of tender as you sat next to him on the floor. The sight of it made your heart pound in your chest.

When you had all finished eating, you and Suna carried the dishes back to the kitchen while the twins dozed on the couch. After packing up the leftovers, you started washing the dishes and cooking pots, with Suna drying and putting them away.

“Thanks for making dinner for us,” he said quietly, not making eye contact with you.

“Of course,” you said, offering him a smile. “I don’t mind doing it.”

“You must really like those two idiots, if you’re willing to do so much for them.”

You looked over the counter into the living room where the twins were passed out on the couch. Osamu was curled up on his side, his head leaning against the armrest and blanket tucked up tight around him; Atsumu had his head thrown back, mouth hanging open as he snored softly. The sight of them sleeping so peacefully made a feeling of warmth spread throughout your chest.

“I’ve known them since we were three,” you told Suna, gaze still pointed towards the twins. “They’re like brothers to me.” You paused for a moment, thinking, before turning your attention back to the dishes in the sink. “I think it’s normal to want to do things for the people you care about.”

You caught Suna’s eye as you looked up to pass him a freshly-washed plate. He was staring at you intently, brows slightly furrowed, but you couldn’t quite name the expression on his face.  

 --

 It came as no surprise when, a few days after taking care of the twins, you came down with a bad cold of your own. You managed to suffer through your classes and had just returned to your room to sleep for the rest of the day when, less than five minutes after changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed, there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open,” you called out, thinking it was one of the girls from your floor coming to check on you.

When Suna stepped into your room, you nearly fell in your haste to jump out of bed.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to come in?” he asked as you disentangled yourself from the blankets.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting it to be you,” you told him. You grabbed a hoodie from your closet and quickly pulled it on over your tank top, attempting to hide the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Oh,” was all he said. The two of you stood there staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, before you noticed the bag he was holding in his hand.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at it.

Suna blinked as if he had suddenly remembered why he was there. “The guys told me you weren’t feeling well,” he said, setting the bag down on your desk and pulling a container out of it, “so I thought I’d bring you some soup.” His voice got softer at the end, and you noticed a slight blush on his cheeks as he held it out to you.

He must have made it and immediately brought it over to your dorm, because the container was still hot to the touch. You struggled to keep your lower lip from shaking at the sheer thoughtfulness of it. “That’s really sweet, Suna. Thank you.”

“It’s probably not nearly as good as yours, but…” his voice trailed off. He scratched at the back of his head, the blush deepening on his face. “I tried to do what you showed me the other night.”

“Do you wanna have some with me?” you asked, but you were already taking down two bowls from the shelf above your desk and pouring out a serving for each of you, before putting the rest in your mini fridge. You ate a spoonful, eyes closing as you savored the taste. “Mmm, this is really good, Sunarin!” you smiled at him.

“It’s not bad,” he said, grinning a little bit.

“It’s really good for your first try!” you pressed on. “You know, if you want more practice, you can cook for me anytime.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’d be a pretty sweet deal for you. But what would I get out of it?”

“Duh, you’d get to spend more time with me.”

“Oh, then pass.”

“Suna!” You pretended to pout, earning a genuine laugh from him. It felt good to joke around with him again, after not being in contact with him at all over the winter break.  

“Do you wanna hang out for a bit?” he asked when you had finished eating, setting his empty bowl on your desk. “Or were you just planning on sleeping for the rest of the day?”

You were a little taken aback at his question, since he had gone out of his way to avoid Atsumu and Osamu when they were sick. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch whatever I have?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “If I was gonna catch it, I would have caught it from Thing 1 and Thing 2 already.” His expression faltered a little. “We don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“No, I do!” you said, a little too quickly in your eagerness to not let this chance slip through your fingers. “I just don’t want to get you sick, that’s all.”

“I’ll be fine.” Suna rolled his eyes, smiling. “You wanna watch a movie? I’ll let you choose, since you’re sick.”

“Oh, how magnanimous of you,” you teased as you carried your laptop over to your bed. You sat down, propped up against the pillows, and shifted to the side so Suna could sit next to you. “Can we watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’?”

“Sure.”

“I feel like you’d kin Miranda Priestly.”

“I will leave this room, right now,” he threatened, beginning to stand up.

“No, no! I was only joking!” you laughed, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down. He rubbed at his face, but you could see his slight smile hidden behind his hand.

The movie was almost over before Suna realized that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. When he first felt your head lean against him, the pounding of his heart had prevented him from daring to look at your face, but after several of his comments had gone ignored, he finally peered down at you, surprised to see your eyes closed. When the credits rolled, he had intended to get up and let you rest, but when he tried to move, your body shifted to turn towards him, an arm reaching out to wrap around his torso.

“Rin,” you murmured in your sleep, and the sound of your voice saying his name caused all of his resolve to disappear.

With you sleeping so peacefully, your warm body pressed up against his, Suna couldn’t bring himself to risk accidentally waking you up. The sun had already set, making your room dark and cozy, and so he figured he could wait there for a little bit until you woke up from your nap. Lifting one of his arms to put it around your shoulders, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, sunlight was streaming in through the window. He blinked blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His movements prompted you to wake up, your gaze slowly focusing to find yourself leaning on his chest like a pillow.

“Guess we were both more tired than we thought,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Mmph,” you mumbled, noticing a damp spot on his shirt from where you had drooled on him. God, how embarrassing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, shifting to look down at you.

“A little better,” you said. Sitting up properly, you rubbed at your face, attempting to hide your blush from him. “Sorry that I fell asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling a little before his face shifted into a more teasing expression. “Did you know that you mumble in your sleep?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands even more. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“It’s kinda cute.”

“Please don’t make fun of me this early in the morning.”

Suna pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Ugh… I’ve got class at 9:45. I gotta go home to shower and get ready before then.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. You lowered your hands from your face just in time to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach as his shirt lifted up; the sight of it made your cheeks burn anew, your head turning quickly so he wouldn’t notice you staring.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Y/n,” he said, putting on his coat.

“Thanks again for coming over,” you said, forcing yourself to look him in the eye.

He grinned a little sheepishly as he made his way to the door. “Well, ya know… you gotta do things for the people you care about.”  

 --

 Stepping out into the brisk early springtime air, you spotted a familiar head of dark hair a few yards in front of you.

“Hey, Sunarin!” you called out, waving at him when he turned around. He stopped walking to allow you to catch up with him. “Are you done with class for the day?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got practice.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

He didn’t respond, but the slight shrug of his shoulders as he took off again told you that he wasn’t bothered by your company. You walked side by side, your hands brushing against each other’s occasionally, each brief contact setting off butterflies in your stomach. If it had any effect on Suna, he didn’t let it show.

“Have you thought about what classes you’re gonna take next semester?” you asked.

“Not really,” he said. “Why, you gonna start stalking me?” he added, lips quirking up into a grin.

“Just making conversation,” you grumbled, turning your face so he wouldn’t see your blush.

“Y/n!”

You looked up in the direction the voice came from to see a guy from one of your classes making his way over to you. You greeted him politely, and he launched into a conversation about the latest paper you had been assigned, falling into step beside you.

“Are you doing anything now? You wanna go get dinner with me?” he asked eventually.

“Oh, I can’t, actually,” you told him. “I have plans with a friend tonight.”

His face fell a little, but he quickly bounced back. “That’s alright, some other time maybe.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what you’re doing for spring break yet?”

“I’m not really sure, I’ll probably just stay on campus,” you said.

“Oh, me too!” he said, grinning at you. “Maybe we could get together then.”

You had reached a branch in the path, and he turned right to continue towards the dining hall.

“See ya around!” he said with a wave.

You waved back, noticing that Suna’s eyes lingered on the other guy’s back as he walked away.

“That dude likes you,” he said in a deadpan voice.

“Huh?”

“He was trying to ask you out, dumbass.”

“What? No he wasn’t. I don’t think he’d do that in front of you.”

“Well, if he asks you again you should say yes.” Suna was smirking at you, but his voice was devoid of any emotion.

His words pricked at your heart, making your chest feel tight. The idea of him encouraging you to go out with someone else was a little upsetting. You turned your head away from him.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said absentmindedly. In truth, you had no interest in going out with that other guy, but Suna’s comment had left you unsure of what to say.

His brows creased a bit. Turning back to look at him, you saw that his gaze was significantly colder than it had been before. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he cut you off before you could.

“I’m gonna be late for practice,” he said flatly, walking off quickly and leaving you to stand alone on the path.

 --

 After that day, things between you and Suna were different. He was suddenly making himself even more scarce than usual, and during the few times when you managed to see him, he was quieter than before. You couldn’t think of what would make him act so coldly towards you, and the possible explanations you came up with in your mind only made you feel worse.

You were waiting outside the gym one evening for Atsumu and Suna to get out of practice. When you saw them walking out the door you went over to greet them, handing over the bag of pork buns you had picked up at the convenience store.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Atsumu said, gratefully accepting the food you offered him; Suna, however, stepped away before you could pass it to him.

“Sorry, I’ve got stuff to do,” he said cryptically before turning from you.

“We were planning on playing Smash later, are you gonna be around?” you asked.

“Probably not,” was all he said, waving one hand over his shoulder as he walked away.

Stung, you turned to Atsumu. “Suna’s been avoiding me, right? I haven’t been imagining that?”

Mouth full of pork bun, he shook his head. Swallowing thickly, he said, “Nope, he’s definitely been MIA lately. I don’t know why, though.” Seeing the way you bit your lower lip in worry, he was quick to speak again. “I’m sure it’s got nothin’ to do with you! Sunarin’s probably just busy.”

“Do you think he’s seeing someone?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“Nah, if he was I’d know about it. He’s never brought anyone back to the house.” He crammed half a pork bun into his mouth, struggling to chew it. “Honestly, he might just be a little homesick.”

“What?” It was hard to imagine someone like Suna being homesick; considering he spent so much time on his own, you didn’t think of him as the type of person to miss anyone.

“I mean, he told me he’s goin’ home for spring break to spend time with his sister,” Atsumu explained. “He must really miss her.”

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the news. A part of you had hoped that Suna’s avoidance of you actually was due to his busy schedule, and you had been looking forward to your spring break as the perfect opportunity to get some quality time with him. The fact that he wasn’t going to be there confirmed your doubts, proving, in your mind at least, that he really didn’t want to be around you anymore.

“You got any more of these?” Atsumu’s voice brought you out of your own thoughts.

“Yeah, here,” you said, giving him the bag of pork buns intended for Suna.

He continued chattering the whole walk back to the house, but you hardly processed a word. You were too busy wondering about what you could have possibly done to make Suna no longer want to be your friend.

--

 It had been several weeks since you had spent any time with Suna, aside from the brief moments when you saw each other at the house when you were visiting the twins, but he always gave an excuse as to why he couldn’t hang around. You knew he was a private person, but his sudden avoidance of you hurt twice as much after he had seemed to be getting more comfortable around you. Several times you had texted him to ask if he wanted to get food with you or watch a movie together, but he either claimed he was too busy with classes, or ignored you altogether. Eventually, you gave up trying to contact him.

But that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering when you did see him in person. You found yourself living for the moments when you would be sitting in the living room with Osamu or Atsumu, and Suna would come downstairs, giving you a quick nod before rushing out the door; or when you would be hanging out in Osamu’s room and Suna would walk down the hallway, locking eyes with you for half a second before going into his own room and shutting the door behind him. Each time you hoped he would stop and actually say something to you, and each time you were left disappointed.

So it came as a surprise when, one day when you and Osamu were in his kitchen making onigiri together, Suna came downstairs and actually lingered for a bit, even after spotting you. Not wanting to scare him off, you bit your tongue as he sat on the counter, watching you form the rice balls with your hands.

“Those look good,” he said; you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or Osamu.

“Here,” Osamu said, putting some on a plate and passing it to his friend. “You headin’ out soon?”

Suna nodded, his mouth full of rice. “Yeah, I’ve gotta meet with my advisor.”

“We’re going out to eat later, you should come. You haven’t hung out with us in a while.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been kinda flakey lately,” he said, his tone apologetic.

You couldn’t help yourself. Looking him in the eye, you spoke. “We’ve missed you, Rintarou. It’s not as fun without you around.”

“Gee, thanks,” Osamu muttered, but you hardly heard him. For the first time in weeks, Suna was looking directly at you, his gaze almost soft.

“Can’t imagine how rough it must be for you to have to spend time with these two goons,” he said, grinning.

“I’m standing right here, man,” Osamu said, his voice sounding only slightly annoyed.

You laughed, and to your amazement Suna returned it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, hopeful that this awkward tension between you two was finally over.

“Text me when you guys are leaving, okay?” he said, hopping down off the counter and making for the front door. “I’ll meet you there.”

You couldn’t keep the giddy smile off your face even after he left. The thought of spending time with him again was almost too much for you.

“I wish you guys would just fuckin’ kiss already,” Osamu griped, his hands still deftly forming perfectly-shaped onigiri.

“Huh?!” you spluttered, nearly choking as his words sank in. “Who?”

“You and Sunarin, you clown. Do ya have any idea how painful it’s been watchin’ you two idiots for the past few months? Jesus, even ’Tsumu noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“That you guys like each other!”

“I don’t—wha—,” you fumbled over your words, not entirely sure what to say. “Suna doesn’t like me!”

“Uh huh, yeah, okay. Y/n, the man made you a whole-ass pot of soup when you were sick. I’ve known him for years and he won’t even let me borrow his phone charger.”

“If he likes me, then why has he spent the last two months completely ignoring me?”

“Because Rintarou has the emotional intelligence of a fuckin’ cantaloupe.” Osamu finally turned to look at you, his hands resting on his hips. “Look, he’s never actually liked someone before—not for real, anyway—so I don’t think he knows what to do about you. He’s never gonna fess up and tell you how he feels, so his next best option is to just avoid you entirely. But he’s been missing you, real bad. I can tell.”

“So I’m supposed to be the one to tell him?”

Osamu smirked at you. “So you actually like him?”

You paused for a moment, sucking in a breath. “Yeah, I like him.”

It was the first time you had admitted it even to yourself. A wave of relief immediately washed over you, as if you had been holding onto a secret that you no longer had to hide.

Ignoring the blush you felt creeping onto your face, you forced yourself to look at your friend.

“But isn’t that weird for you? I mean, we’re your best friends, would you really be okay with it if we started dating?”

Osamu glanced up as he thought about it, taking in a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “It’d be a little weird at first, but I’d get used to it. But it doesn’t matter how I feel about it.” He looked back down at you. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“’Samu,” you wailed, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

“So, you gonna tell him or what?”

“I don’t know… what if he doesn’t feel that way about me?”

“He definitely does.”

“Well, maybe it’s just not a good idea for us to date… I mean, neither of us has ever been in a real relationship before, what if we just crash and burn?”

Osamu took in another deep breath, looking as if he was preparing himself for something unpleasant. “Look, you know I’m not a sappy guy, and I feel gross even saying this, but honestly, you and Rintarou are two of the most compatible people I’ve ever met. Even I can see how cute you guys are together. You’d be stupid not to date him.”

“Seriously, ’Samu, you’re actually gonna make me cry.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning back to make more onigiri. “Just hurry up and confess already, I miss hangin’ out with my friends.”

 --

 You waited until Atsumu and Osamu were out of the house; that way, if things didn’t go well, you could quietly slip away to collect your dignity without having to answer any questions from them first.

You stood in Suna’s doorway, heart pounding furiously in your chest as you steeled yourself for what you were about to do. He was sitting on his bed with his headphones on, looking at something on his laptop, but when you knocked on the door frame he glanced up, noticing you for the first time.  

“Hey, Rintarou,” you said, your voice a little shaky. “Can we talk?”

He took his headphones off and shut his laptop, setting it to the side and scooting forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you stepped into his room and sat down next to him. He was looking at you intently, a small crease between his brows. You glanced down at your lap, fingers twisting nervously, before looking at his face again. If you weren’t honest with him now, you never would be.

“I like you,” you said bluntly, “more than just a friend.” Suna’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” you continued, really struggling now to hold his gaze. “I just… I had to tell you. And I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, that’s not what I want. Your friendship means a lot to me and I don’t want to lose that, so even if you don’t—”

“Y/n.”

Your words caught in your throat, afraid of what he was about to say.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was impossibly soft, the question sounding so delicate as it fell past his lips.

You could have sworn your heart stopped beating for a moment. You nodded your head. “Yes.”    

Suna’s hand reached up to cup your cheek before he leaned in, agonizingly slowly, to press his mouth to yours. His lips were so soft, his touch incredibly gentle. Placing both hands on the back of his neck, you melted into him, sighing as his other arm wrapped around your waist to pull you in closer. You could feel him grinning against your lips just before he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I like you, too,” he said softly.

Returning his smile, you leaned in to fit your mouth to his again, relishing the way it felt to be held by him, to have him kiss you so tenderly. It took all of your willpower to pull away from him.

“Rin, I have to go,” you whispered against his lips.

“What?” His expression was puzzled as you abruptly stood up.

“I have class in ten minutes,” you explained, making your way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna drop that on me and then dip?”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, grinning. “Yup.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but the smile was still on his face even as you left.

 --

 The first few weeks after you and Suna started dating passed by in a blur. The heartache you had felt when he kept his distance from you had been replaced by a constant feeling of joy at the knowledge that you were together now. You still got butterflies every time you saw him, your heart melting each time you pressed a kiss into his cheek and saw a blush creep onto his face.

The only complaint you had was that after three weeks, you and Suna still hadn’t slept together. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried, but there was always something that prevented you from actually succeeding: he was too exhausted after finishing volleyball practice; you both had term papers to work on; someone on your floor burnt popcorn in the microwave, setting off the fire alarm. The closest you two came to doing anything was one night when you thought you had the house to yourselves. You and Suna were making out on his bed, and he was just about to take off your shirt when Atsumu suddenly burst into the room to ask if they were all out of laundry detergent. He had quickly left, smirking, after realizing what he was interrupting, but you were too embarrassed to continue after he closed the door.

At this point, it had been over a year since you last had sex, and you were starting to go a little crazy. You were pretty sure Suna knew it, too, based on the smirks he gave you when he happened to catch the way you would stare at him periodically. After the length of time it took for you two to finally admit your feelings for each other, it was incredibly frustrating that the universe seemed to be keeping you apart again.

The end of the semester rolled around, and the twins decided to throw another big party before finals week. You managed to convince Suna to not hide in his room the entire time, and to your amazement he seemed to be having a good time, laughing in the corner with some friends from the volleyball team.

You were sitting on the couch next to Osamu, slowly sipping the beer in your hand. He was talking to you about your plans for the summer, but you couldn’t stop your attention from drifting over to your boyfriend every once in a while, grinning at him each time you happened to catch his eye.

“Our parents are renting that beach house for two weeks in July, you wanna come with us again?” Osamu asked, drawing your gaze back to his face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that sounds fun,” you said, a little distracted.

“Your boyfriend can come, too, of course,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” you groaned, trying to hide your blushing face by downing the rest of your drink.

“Bet you’re gonna miss him, yeah? Three months is a long time to be apart from your lover.”

“I swear to god, ’Samu, if you don’t shut the fuck up…” you grumbled, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face at your friend’s teasing.

Osamu’s attention was stolen then by someone asking him to go do shots, so you got up and walked to the kitchen by yourself to throw out your empty beer bottle. After you tossed it in the bin, you felt warm hands encircle your waist and a familiar voice whispered into your ear.

“It’s getting kinda crowded down here, you wanna go upstairs?” Suna’s warm breath tickled your ear, making you shiver in his arms. Turning around to face him, you gave him a quick kiss before taking him by the hand and leading the way to the stairs.

Closing his bedroom door muffled the sounds of the party, and you were able to breathe easier now that you were alone with him. Suna scrolled through his phone briefly before finding the playlist he was searching for, setting his phone down once the music started playing.

“Hey,” you said, grinning as you recognized the song, “this is the same playlist that you put on the night we met.”

He took a few steps towards you, arms snaking around your waist to pull you in close. “I know,” he said simply before leaning down to kiss you. You allowed him to deepen it, lips parting for his tongue, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt.

Without breaking away, Suna guided you to his bed, gently laying you down and crawling on top of you, his knee coming up to press between your legs. You moaned into his mouth, feeling him grin against you. Breathing hard, you pulled his shirt over his head, leaning back so that you could look at him. You had known he was fit from all the times your body had been pressed against his, but seeing his muscular form with your own eyes was different. You squirmed under him, feeling your arousal growing between your thighs.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Y/n,” he whispered, leaning down to press kisses into your neck.

“I know,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” He pulled your shirt off of you, warm hands burning into your skin. “Do you know what I’m gonna do next?” he teased in a low voice, mouth moving down over your collarbones as his hands came up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples through your bra.

“Rin,” you whined when he pulled down the fabric to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand coming to rest between your thighs, groaning against your skin when he felt the wetness seeping through your shorts.

“Yeah, baby?” He was kissing a line down your stomach, goosebumps rising in his wake. He tugged off your shorts and panties together as you sat up to unhook your bra, tossing it onto the floor without taking your eyes off his face. Your hands immediately moved to the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning them as you planted sloppy kisses across his chest. He wriggled out of them and threw them to the side, before wrapping a hand around each of your legs and spreading them apart. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, lips gliding over the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me, baby. I know how badly you want this.”

You whimpered, fingers running through his hair and gripping tightly. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, making you shiver again. A loud moan escaped you when he finally pressed his tongue against your pussy, running slowly over your folds and circling around your clit before moving back down. He repeated the motion, making your breath come out in short pants as your fingers tangled themselves further in his hair.

“God, you taste so sweet,” he moaned against you. His hands pressed down on your hipbones, pinning you in place as you started trembling around him, small whimpers leaving your mouth the closer you came to your release. You drew your legs up, the heel of one of your feet resting on his back as your spine arched, pressing into his mouth.

“Fuck, Rin, I’m so close,” you gasped out. He hummed, hands reaching up to trace his fingertips along your sides. You started moving your hips and he stilled, holding his tongue out for you to grind against. Within seconds you were cumming, legs shaking and nails digging almost painfully into his scalp. He kept his mouth open to allow you to ride out your high, gaze trained on your face.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he murmured, moving to plant a row of kisses up your throat and over your jaw. “So fucking cute.” His lips fitted against yours as he grinded into you, the friction against your clit making you gasp.

“Rin,” you whispered, pulling away to look in his eyes, “lie down.”

He rolled off of you, reaching out with both hands to pull you on top of him. You kissed him once, teasingly, before sitting up and gazing down at him. With one finger, you traced a line from his throat down over his chest and stomach, coming to rest where the skin dipped down between his hipbones, smiling to yourself at the way he shivered from your touch. Hooking your fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers, you gently tugged them off of him, watching the way his thick cock sprang out to slap against his abs. Heart pounding excitedly, you dragged your nails over the top of his thigh, pleased when his muscles tensed beneath you.

“Don’t tease me, baby,” he groaned, fingers digging into your arm. “I’ve had to wait so long for this.”

You would have been content to make him wait even longer, wanting to hear him begging you to touch him, but the pleading look in his eyes softened your resolve. “I know,” you purred, leaning down to run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, grinning to yourself when you heard his sharp inhale. You swirled your tongue around the tip, letting your spit run down his length, before wrapping your lips around his cock.

Soft moans and pants reached your ears as you slowly took all of him into your mouth. When the head of his cock hit the back of your throat you paused, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from the stretch of your jaw. You slid your tongue along his cock as you hummed lightly, eliciting a loud groan from him. Your hand came to grip his cock as you started bobbing your head up and down, moving in tandem with your mouth. Suna tilted his head to watch you, his chest rising and falling heavily. Keeping your eyes on his face, your mouth left his cock with a wet pop and moved down to suck on his balls, your hand continuing to jerk him off.

“F-fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow. His fingers entwined themselves in your hair, gripping firmly, but you had reached the limit of your patience. You crawled back on top of him, thighs planted on either side of his hips, and used your hand to drag his cock along the folds of your cunt.

“I wanna feel you, Rin,” you said breathlessly as his hands gripped your hips. “Wanna feel you inside me.”

Pressing his tip into you, you slowly sank down onto him, loving the way his mouth fell open as you took him completely inside you. The stretch made you gasp, head falling forward to rest against the crook of his neck. You kissed the skin just below his ear as you started grinding your hips against him, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. The sensation on your clit made you moan into his skin.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered.

“Feels good,” you whimpered, your pace quickening. “S-so good.”

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight…”

The knot in your stomach was rapidly tightening. A few more motions were all it took for you to be cumming again; you pressed your lips against Suna’s, tongue reaching into his mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

When your hips stilled, he lifted you off of him and flipped you over onto your back, nipping at the skin of your neck as he repositioned himself between your legs. With a groan, he sank into you again, hips snapping against you urgently. Your body already felt worn out, but the sensation of him fucking you so deeply had you clawing at his back, desperately trying to pull him closer to you. He lifted your trembling legs onto his shoulders, the new angle of his cock thrusting into you making you cry out.

“Is that your spot, baby?” he crooned, repeatedly hitting the place that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there, Rin, p-please don’t stop!” you babbled. One of your hands reached out to grab his and bring it to your neck, eyes pleading with him.

His fingers tightened around your throat. “Fuck, you look so cute taking my cock like that. You gonna cum again, pretty girl? Gonna cum all over my cock for me?”

His grip on your throat was making you lightheaded, the friction against your clit sending pleasant vibrations throughout your entire body. The spot his cock was hitting inside your pussy had you hurtling towards the edge again, eyes rolling back as you incoherently begged him not to stop.

“Rin, I-I’m cumming—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you practically sobbed as your pussy clenched around him again. He released his hold on your throat, moving his hand up to lift your jaw and kiss you deeply, relishing when you moaned into his mouth. Your lips parted and he rested his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes, continuing to pound into you as you came. His breath stuttered as his thrusts grew more erratic, his face flushed as his cock throbbed inside you, hot cum filling your cunt.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again, slower than before. He pulled out and laid down beside you, breathing hard. You reached up to brush the loose strands of hair out of his face, fingers running over his cheekbones.

“Why did we wait so long to do this,” you asked, making him laugh.

“We’re so fucking stupid,” he said with a grin.

You exhaled happily, moving closer to him and nestling your head against his chest. His arm reached out to wrap around you and press his palm into your spine to pull you closer. He was warm, but your uncovered body shivered against the chill in the air, goosebumps rising along your skin.

“Here, cutie,” he said, shifting so that he could pull the comforter over you. “Comfy?”

“Hmm,” you hummed, closing your eyes and pressing a kiss into his collarbone.

With Rin’s arm around you and his steady heartbeat in your ear, you fell asleep almost instantly, feeling more content than you had in a long time.

 --

 You woke up before Suna. He had moved in his sleep, now lying on his back with one arm outstretched underneath your head. You watched him for a moment, smiling at the calm expression on his face, before climbing out of bed slowly, careful not to disturb him. Putting on your panties and one of Suna’s oversized t-shirts, you slipped out the door to walk to the bathroom down the hall.

Osamu and Atsumu’s doors were still closed, a fact that you were grateful for when you reached the bathroom and saw your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, your neck littered with little love bites, damning indicators of what you had been up to the night before. Splashing your face with water, you tried to scrub off the smeared remnants of yesterday’s makeup. Satisfied when you no longer looked like you spent the night in a club, you crept back into your boyfriend’s room.

“Hey,” Suna mumbled when you stepped back through the doorway, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his eyes with the other hand.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you shut the door.

“Take those clothes off and come back to bed.”

You giggled, shrugging out of your clothes and stepping towards his outstretched arms. He pulled you into a tight embrace, peppering your face with kisses. He settled you down on your side next to him, pulling your thigh up to rest on his hip.

“Rin!” you squealed when you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

“I just wanna be inside you, baby,” he murmured. His touch had already made you wet, allowing his cock to slide into you easily. You sighed as his hips pressed up against yours.

His lips met with yours, his kiss achingly sweet. “I don’t ever want you to leave this bed,” he breathed out. You smiled against his lips, fingers running through his soft hair. He shifted his hips then, and the sensation was too much for you.

“O-oh,” you whimpered as your pussy tightened around him.

“Are you cumming?” he asked, the corner of his lips quirking up into a grin.

“Sh-shut up.”

He didn’t say anything else, simply tightening his arms around you and kissing you again. The two of you lay like that for a while, slipping into a peaceful state of half-sleep, until the sound of a distant door being flung open pulled you back.

“Fuck,” Suna mumbled under his breath. Not a second later, a loud knock sounded from the other side of his door.

“Sunariiiiin,” Atsumu’s voiced whined from the hallway. “Are you guys up yet?”

“Is that door locked?” Suna whispered to you. Commending yourself for your earlier foresight, you nodded. “Good.”

“Suna! Y/n!” He pounded on the door. “I know you guys can hear me, come on!”

“I gotta get my own place,” Suna grumbled, his eyes still closed. You giggled, and when the knocking on the door stopped you snuggled in closer to him, ready to go back to sleep.

Until your phone started ringing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, reaching out to grab it from the nightstand. “What do you want, Atsumu?”

“Aha! I knew you were awake!” He sounded very pleased with himself for succeeding in getting you to talk to him. “Can you make me pancakes?”

There was a pause as his question sank in. Holding your phone to your head and staring at Suna, you pulled away from him and sat up, eliciting a low groan from him. “You want me to make you pancakes?” you repeated in an incredulous voice. Suna cracked open his eyes, his face scrunching up as he heard Atsumu’s request.

“Yeah!”

“Get Osamu to do it.”

“He doesn’t make them as good as you!”

You could practically hear him pouting on the other end of the line. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you heaved a sigh. “Give me a minute.”

“Thankyouthankyouthanky—” You ended the call before he finished. Climbing out of bed, you pulled on your clothes again.

“Are you actually gonna do it?” Suna asked.

“He’s just gonna keep harassing us until I do it anyway,” you said. “Besides, it’s almost ten o’clock, we might as well get up.”

Suna rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, groaning loudly. Grinning, you tossed a clean pair of boxers and a shirt at him.

Atsumu looked way too happy when you finally appeared downstairs. He and Osamu were sitting at the kitchen counter together; they nudged a steaming mug towards you when you walked in.

“We made you coffee,” he said, his grin wide across his face.

“Uh huh,” you grumbled.

“Where’s mine?” Suna asked as he trailed in behind you.

“Make your own, dick,” Osamu told him, smirking as he sipped his own drink.

Suna rolled his eyes, going to pour himself a cup from the coffeemaker.

Trying to hide your laughter from him, you gathered up the ingredients and set to work. When all the pancakes were done cooking you passed half of them across the counter to the twins.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hummed, closing his eyes as he took a bite. “So good.”

“I gotta teach you how to make these yourself, ’Tsumu,” you said, taking a bite of your own breakfast.

“Yeah, that way you clowns can let us sleep in for once,” Suna added.

“Don’t pretend, Y/n,” Atsumu said, “you know you love seeing my cute little face first thing in the morning.”

“I prefer seeing ’Samu’s, actually,” you teased. Osamu stuck his tongue out at his twin, laughing at his crumpled expression.

When you all finished eating, Atsumu and Osamu jumped up to wash the dishes for you. Holding your mug of coffee with both hands, you leaned into Suna’s side.

Looking over his shoulder at you two, Osamu grinned. “So, how was your night?”

“Fine,” you said in a casual tone.

“And that’s all you’re gonna get out of us,” Suna finished.

Osamu rolled his eyes, turning back to the dishes in the sink. “As if I’d want any details.”

“My night was great, thanks for asking,” Atsumu chimed in.

“Yeah? Was that before or after you puked in the backyard?”

“’Samu!”

You couldn’t help the relaxed smile that found its way onto your face, happy to get to listen to them teasing each other like always. With one hand resting on the counter, Suna’s other reached around your waist to tug you closer, fitting your body against his. Standing there laughing with your friends, with his arm around you, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

--

➣epilogue

--

➣masterlist

[navegandoaciegas]

A long way

Kinktober 7/31: creampie

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: trucker!bucky, hitchhiking, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, hair pulling, one slap on the face, oral sex, alcohol consumption, degradading praise kink.

Summary: A broody and rough truck driver stops for you when no one else does. What happens when you spend a few days together?

A/N: day 7 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober. Thank you @buckycuddlebuddy for inspiring this and helping me out, ily baby!

You suppose he’s a nice guy under all the brooding, frowning, glaring; there must be some gentleness buried underneath all the roughness, some kindness hiding behind his steely eyes.

He’s got a hard exterior for sure, with his burly body and intricate tattoos, but he’s the only one who’s pulled over for you, all soaked, crying and alone on the side of the road, while other drivers sped past you, hitting potholes and splashing even more water and mud over you.

You have to admit, you would have done the same, because who the hell stops for hitchhikers in the middle of a thunderstorm? Bucky the trucker, apparently. At the same time, who in their right mind hitchhikes in the 21st century? Someone desperate enough. You.

The 70s and the Santa Rosa murders haven’t taught either of you much, it seems.

So either he’s a serial killer, or a sullen good samaritan.

“I’m gonna pull over in a couple miles, I need to rest a little.” he announces, voice flat, tightly gripping the steering wheel of his truck.

You have a feeling he doesn’t particularly like you. Nothing specific about you, just that you’re in his space, in his clothes, breathing his same air, and he can’t sulk on his own like he’s probably used to.

“It’s okay for me.” you mumble, fidgeting with the sleeves of his thick, grey sweatshirt. It wasn’t a question, but what else were you supposed to say?

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

Despite his murderous looks and apparent annoyance, you trust your gut feeling.

The guy could split your skull in half like a pistachio, but he doesn’t seem like he’ll actually go through with it, unless you change the frequency of that radio channel he’s listening to, or move around the pictures on his dashboard. Both of which you don’t intend on doing.

You observe his side profile, the delicate slope on his nose, chiselled jawline, high cheekbones, buzz cut chestnut hair, the tattoos snaking from his arm to the side of his neck, ending just below his ear.

He’s hot and menacing, and the idea that he could bang you like a screen door in a hurricane and kill you with his bare hands makes a shiver go down your spine and straight to your core.

You squirm in your seat, clenching your thighs, cursing you and your horny brain for the dirty images you’ve conveyed.

“You alright there, sugar?” he asks, and you think you see a little smirk dancing on his plush lips, “You seem a little bothered.”

The endearing name and the teasing are a new development, one that you don’t mind.

“Never been better.” you grumble, shooting him a glare of your own.

10 hours in his truck, and his mannerism is rubbing off on you already.

-

It’s a long way from Oregon to Florida when you have no money on you and you depend on a trucker’s route, a trucker you’ve been bickering and flirting with for hours.

45 hours later, you find yourself at a truck stop a long way from home, your feet propped against the dashboard, the seat reclined slightly.

It’s not the best setting, you’ll be honest with yourself.

Take out containers are littered around you, and Bucky keeps digging in the fries propped on your lap. You smile lazily at him, tipsy but still conscious on your second beer.

45 hours together is a long time when you spend it with the same person, in a small space. He’s still brooding, just looser. And drunker.

“So I said, fuck you and that two faced bitch, and spilled a wine bottle on his suit.” you hiccup, a hysterical laugh bubbling in your throat, “Red fuckin’ wine.”

Well, maybe you’re not as sober as you thought.

“No way.” he deadpans, taking a sip out of his beer. “Is that why you looked like a drowned rat hitchhiking in the middle of the night?”

“Mean, but yes. That cheating asshole. I hope his dick falls off. Not like he knew how to use it anyways.”

That seems to catch his attention.

“He didn’t?” he hums thoughtfully, with all the seriousness a drunk man can muster.

“He never got me off. Had to lock myself in the bathroom and do it myself.” you slur, “Never ate my pussy either.”

“God, suga’, that sounds tragic.”

Your lips twist in a disgusted expression, but you giggle when a thought stikes you.

“What about you? When was the last time you got any?”

He winces when he thinks about it, the frown on his forehead permanently etched there.

“A while ago.”

It’s silent for a moment, and maybe it’s the sexual tension that’s been building for a while, or the heat in his steely eyes, but you feel yourself grow warmer.

Your itch to touch him, taste him, feel him inside you. On your tongue, in your cunt, everywhere.

“Tragic.” you mumble, eyes boring into his.

It’s a rebound, or maybe it’s just that he’s hot and you’re both adults who can do whatever the hell you want.

It doesn’t make sense, the way you jump on him, slanting your mouth against his like you’ve never done before. The way his lips mold against yours, his tongue moves in sync with you, his hands on your body leave you feeling scorched. Your clothes and his sweater are discarded somewhere.

He tastes like beer, and tobacco, and his beard grazes against your skin, making you feel ticklish and giddy.

You’re drunk, and not on alcohol.

His touch is bruising, possessive, controlling. His teeth bite on your skin, he pulls on your hair, kneads the flesh of your ass, rolls and pinches your nipples.

Rough, just like him, and if the slick leaking out of you is any indication, you like that a lot.

“I’ll fuck you all the way to Florida babygirl, fuck you so good you never want to leave this fuckin’ truck.”

It’s embarrassing the way you’re panting, debauched already. Heat is pooling in your lower belly, and you want nothing more than for him to go feral on you.

“God, Bucky, I need you so much, need you inside me.” you whine, palming his cock through his denim jeans, feeling how hard and throbbing he is for you.

“Fuck.” he groans, quickly undoing your belt, freeing his cock.

It springs out of his briefs, standing against his stomach. He’s thick, and leaking with pre cum.

You bite your lips, shooting him a mischievous smile as you lower your face to his groin, ready to suck him off.

“No, I want to be inside you now.”

He grabs underneath your arms and lifts you up, maneuvering so that you’re straddling his lap.

You’re tipsy, about to let a man you barely know raw you in his truck, surrounded by containers of junk food.

It’s trashy, maybe, but who cares. Fuck trashy, and fuck your ex too.

You feel like all your breath has been knocked out of you when he pushes inside you, his cock stretching you out almost painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” you whimper, steadying yourself on his broad chest, nails mapping out the outline of his tattoos.

“God baby, you’re so tight, I can feel that pretty pussy of yours squeezing me.” he moans, hands tightly gripping your hips, “Why don’t you show me how good you can ride my cock, yes?”

You grind yourself on his groin, rolling your hips in circular motion, feeling his cock hit all the sweet spots inside you. He suckles on your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

Your pussy flutters around him, clamping down hard each time a wave of pleasure hits you.

“Look how good you’re doing, taking my cock so well like the little dumb slut you are baby.” he grunts, and his words shoot straight to your cunt, “Pretty cockdrunk whore, aren’t ya?”

You feel lightheaded.

Bouncing your ass up and down his cock, you feel yourself get closer.

“Fuck Buck- I’m-”

He cuts you off, swallowing your moans as you cum.

Your body shakes, your head spins and every nerve ending on your body is on fire, but he doesn’t give you time to come down from your high.

You slump against his bare chest, and he starts pounding inside you, holding your waist.

He pummels into your abused cunt, pulling one orgasm after the other out of you, until you’re sobbing. His sweaty skin slaps against yours, his balls against your ass. It’s so lewd it’s driving you crazy.

Tears and drool stream down your face.

“Look at you, messy girl, so eager for my cock. I can’t wait to fill you out with my cum baby, watch it drip out of your cunt.” he groans, balls getting tighter, thrusts messier. You feel him swell inside you. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Being filled with my cum to the brim.”

You’re lost in your own pleasure, and don’t answer until he slaps your face. Hard.

“Yes, please Bucky, I want you to fill my pussy, fuck-”

He bites down on your shoulder as he cums, painting your walls with his hot load as your pussy milks him dry.

“You did so good.” he hums, holding you close to his body as he comes down from his high, “Think you can give me one more?”

You nod, and lie on your back on the seats.

He watches entranced as his cum drips out of your cunt, and pushes it back inside with his fingers, smiling at the small noises you make.

He surprises you, latching his mouth around your swollen, overstimulated clit, sucking hard. He delves in your folds, circling his tongue on your bud, slurping up your juices and his, enjoying your taste mixing in with his as he keeps pumping his thick fingers inside you.

You’ve never felt this amount of pleasure before, and when you cum, your vision blacks out for several seconds, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or just the best orgasm of your life.

You clamp down on his fingers, your release gushing on his mouth as the pressure in your cunt finally snaps.

He looks up at you, face covered in your slick.

“Don’t think I’m done with you baby.” he smirks, “I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy.”

You grin, and pull him down on you, ready to start all over again.

It’s a long way to Florida, and you’re not sure you ever want to reach your destination, after all.

—-

Not proofread bc i like living on edge like that. Please leave some feedback!

You can add yourself to my taglist on my pinned post 💓

[gureishi]

blue sky, falling star

Here is the first fic I wrote for the @mysme-rbb​! It’s pretty different from anything I’ve written before, and I’m really excited to share it. I had such a wonderful time collaborating with AlyValery, who made this beautiful artwork. Check out her post here.

one

Zen falls in love with her first. For him, it is like leaping into cool, clear water.

There is something about her, from the first time he speaks to her (and she is just words on a screen then, voiceless and non-corporeal): something about her reels him in, makes his heart eel fizzy. It is only when she’s in his home, though—sitting so calmly on his couch, hands clasped neatly in her lap—that he realizes just how deep underwater he has fallen.

“Sorry,” he says to her—and for what? For his small, underground apartment, when she deserves a palace? For bringing her here, or for the danger he didn’t know she was in, or for the strange thickness he feels in the space between them?

She shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls into her eyes. She brushes it away with careful fingers and Zen feels that his heart is trying to fight its way out of his chest.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor right now,” she says—and in spite of it all, she speaks with a certainty that makes his head spin. For his whole life, he has been searching for the sort of sureness that seems to radiate off her. He feels dizzy as he sits beside her—leaving space between them, still (because she feels untouchable to him—because she is too wonderful for this world).

“That’s me,” he says, giving her his best attempt at his usual sparkling smile. He wonders if she can sense how nervous she makes him.

“It’s okay,” she says, patting the space beside her. “You can sit next to me, silly.” She knows: he sees it written in the resplendent smile on her face. Zen feels his cheeks flush. It’s never been like this before: he has worked so hard to learn how to smile, and change the timbre of his voice, and angle his head just right so the light bounces off his jaw. He is not used to being caught off guard. Ah, but he finds it impossible to pretend when she’s around: he is rubbed raw, like she has stripped him of his skin, leaving him utterly exposed.

“If you want me to, babe,” he says—but he knows that his voice is stiff and he can feel the way his body tingles as he shifts closer to her.

“Hey,” she says. She peeks up at him from underneath her lashes and there is a determined look in her eyes. A moment passes in which the world outside the window could burn to the ground and Zen wouldn’t see. She takes his hand.

And this is it: this is the moment. Oh god, he thinks. I’m done for.

She’s smiling up at him, tilting her head to the side to draw his attention to their intertwined fingers—as though he needed a reminder.

“Is this okay?” she asks him. He realizes he’s staring at her—is afraid, for a moment, that he looks like a fool, that she’ll toss her head and laugh that heart-stirring laugh and take her hand back. She doesn’t, of course.

He squeezes her hand. Finds he can breathe underwater.

Zen always knows what to say. But here, on his too-small couch, in his too-small apartment, he doesn’t have the words—doesn’t know how to tell her that his heart, and his head, and his whole life belong to her; ah, but the sparkle in her eyes tells him that she already knows. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course it is.”

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two

Yoosung can’t sleep. It’s something about the way the stars are shining outside his window: too close, like he could stick out his hand and pull them from the sky. He’s never wanted to believe the adage that lost loved ones look down on us from the stars—it’s too sad, he thinks, to leave behind your friends on earth and exist forever in the night sky, all alone. He doesn’t want to end up stationed in the sky for living people to gaze at as they philosophize about life; he wants to be right here, where it’s warm and he’s real and he can hold the people he loves in his arms.

The people he loves.

Normally, he’d give up on sleep—throw a blanket over his shoulders and open his game, where there would be friends waiting for him: strangers who know him just well enough to ask how he’s doing but not well enough to really listen to the answer. He used to think this sort of relationship was safe—natural—ideal.

But he doesn’t think that way anymore.

He calls her, instead.

She answers right away, and she can’t have been sleeping, because her voice sounds too clear.

“You’re still awake?” he laughs, and she giggles. He wishes she were beside him, head on his shoulder as he looks out through the smudged glass window.

“So are you,” she says.

Yoosung tells her about the stars. He tells her that the stars he sees are really in the past—that they’re long gone—that the past and present live together in the sky. A voice in the back of his mind tells him that he’s being dramatic again—that he’s wasting her time, her precious sleep, with these thoughts.

But she doesn’t think so.

“I’m looking out my window now too,” she tells him. “I wonder if the stars will carry my message to you.”

Yoosung finds that he’s smiling. He tucks his knees up to his chest, wiggles closer to the window—puts a palm on the glass, thinks again that perhaps he could catch a star in his hand if he just reached far enough.

“What’s your message for me?” he asks. His heart races.

“I’m going to tell the stars,” she says. She whispers something, and he hears her exhale, like she’s blowing on a dandelion—scattering her words into the night sky.

“Not fair!” he says. “I wanted to hear the message, too!”

“You will,” she tells him. “Just wait.”

So he waits, hand on the glass, listening to the sound of her breathing through the phone. He counts her breaths: one, two, three… He wonders how it would feel to fall asleep to this beautiful sound; he hopes, with all his heart, that one day he will find out.

One of the stars seems to glimmer brighter, catching his eye. It’s getting bigger, he thinks—moving closer to him. And perhaps it’s his imagination (too active, he’s been told) or just a projection made by his desperate heart, but he feels a warmth wash over him—like stepping outside and lifting his face to the sky on a bright summer day.

“Did you get it?” she whispers. His heart feels shimmery, like she’s taken it in both her hands and sworn to keep it safe.

“Yes,” he whispers back. “I feel it.”

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three

Jaehee is never afraid—but today, she is terrified.

The key digs into her palm and she clutches it—too tight—in her sweaty, shaky hand. She can’t remember the last time she felt this way—like her stomach is tied in a knot. As a child, perhaps, squeezing her pencil, waiting for a test to start—never as an adult; never like this.

Oh, and she is every bit as beautiful as Jaehee had imagined. When she was just a voice over the phone, Jaehee felt so much safer to say what she felt (even if what she said was such a tiny bit of what she really meant). But now she has a body, and a face, and these perfect, confident eyes, and Jaehee is certain she is going to lose her nerve.

Do it, she tells herself. Do it now.

“Will you be my partner?” she asks—and her voice sounds so much quieter than it did in her imagination. And in spite of everything that’s been said, Jaehee half-expects her to shake her head, declining the offer with a perfect, polite smile. Why would she uproot her whole life, after all, for a woman she’s known for just a few days?

Jaehee hardly dares even think beyond this: about the question she’s really asking; about the answer she really wants.

“Yes,” she says. Ah, and she says it with such conviction: like she’s simply been waiting to be asked. Jaehee feels like a thousand tiny little fires have ignited inside her chest. She holds out the key with a trembling hand. This is it, she thinks: the moment to tell the truth. And by my partner, of course, I mean…

She opens her mouth but the words are stuck in her throat. She hates herself for it: she is strong, she thinks. She can go to work with clear eyes after a sleepless night; she can defend herself with her bare hands. But this—the you are my everything, the I want you, the please be mine—it is impossible.

The key is gone—she has slipped it from Jaehee’s hand with remarkable deftness—and she is moving closer, closer, and Jaehee is frozen in place as soft arms encircle her. She smells like the first buds of spring.

“I mean—” Jaehee tries to say, feeling that the world has turned sideways.

“I know,” she whispers. And there is an intimacy in her tone of voice that Jaehee has never heard before: the ballroom around them dissolves, and they could be in bed together, or on a plane carrying them thousands of miles away, or in a void consisting of nothing but their voices and breaths and bodies and hearts. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she shifts in Jaehee’s arms, and Jaehee realizes what she’s going to do right before she does it. She tilts her head and—and—with almost unbearable tenderness, brushes her lips against the corner of Jaehee’s jaw.

The sideways world rights itself. The air hums. The stars fall from the heavens.

“Friends don’t kiss each other like that,” she whispers, and her breath on Jaehee’s ear sends sparks shooting down her spine. “Right?”

Jaehee gathers her breath, the fragmented shards of her courage.

“No,” she murmurs. “They don’t.”

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four

It is a cool April day, and the trees seem to sing a song of impending summer.

She gets home late that night. Her mother, who is seated beside her in the car, is telling her a story she can’t quite follow—some friend of the family got some score on some test, and apparently this means that her mother is now disappointed in her. She sighs heavily; her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she leaves it alone, reluctant to get in more trouble than she seems to be in already.

The car pulls into the driveway.

“You need to make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay?” her mother says—and her voice sounds far away, like it’s coming from underwater.

“I still have a lot of studying to do,” she says, feeling stubborn. And it’s true that she has studying to do, but it is true, too, that it is almost midnight—the right time to start over again tonight, if she wants to.

And she does: oh, to slip back into that world where she is beloved and everyone’s salvation is at her fingertips.

Her mother looks back, halfway to the door; she’s still sitting in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, one hand unconsciously cupping the phone inside her pocket.

“Are you coming inside?” her mother asks. She opens the passenger side door; the night air is biting on her bare arms.

“Yeah,” she tells her. “Yeah, just a minute.”

And her mother is walking ahead; tugging open the front door (too forcefully), keys jangling in her hand (too loud). She pauses in the garden; tilts her face up to see the sky.

Her muscles feel stiff and sore from nights of poring over books, eyes aching as she tries to make out the letters that swim around on the page. She feels like she’s been running a marathon barefoot, gasping as she struggles to keep up.

In another universe, though, she is already at the finish line. In another universe, she has the power to mend broken hearts, soothe fears, save lives.

Are you out there? she asks the empty night sky.

A star falls.

Oh: and it feels like an answer. She pulls her phone out of her pocket: midnight exactly. Phone in one hand, she lays her other hand over her heart.

She makes a wish.

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five

It is when the car door shuts behind her that Jumin realizes he is no longer afraid.

For ages, he has been on the very edge of the abyss of solitude. It would have been so easy, he thinks, to bury himself in that gaping emptiness where no one could reach him—to fall deeper and deeper until he was untouchable.

But she wrapped a rope around his waist and said if you’re going, I’m going too. He knows that she felt it: the peril of standing on the edge; the understanding that one wrong move would have catapulted them both over the cliff—hidden them away together where no one could find them. She knew; she could have run away at any time. 

She didn’t.

And now he is alone in the garage, and the car that’s carrying her away from him is fading into the distance, and—for perhaps the very first time in his life—he has no doubt that she will come back.

He’s always believed that leaving means never returning—that once someone is gone, they are gone forever. But she has driven away, and he finds that he doesn’t feel scared.

He calls her, of course—almost without thinking, fingers pressing the buttons before he’s realizing what he’s doing. She laughs as she answers.

“Did you miss me already?” she asks. Her voice is weightless; he realizes that it’s been days since he’s heard her voice without actually standing beside her. She feels so much less tangible now that she is just a voice over a phone again—and still, he does not feel afraid.

“I did,” he tells her. “I miss you so much.”

Honesty: so bright it almost burns him.

He tells her that he wants to grow into a more mature man for her, and she listens—and it is this, perhaps, that he loves the most. She doesn’t offer him platitudes, as the people around him have done his whole life: she doesn’t say oh, but you’re fine the way you are; she doesn’t dismiss him or diminish him or paint him a false picture of the way his world should be.

She listens.

She tells him that she’s glad to have met him and he knows that she means it.

Her voice, Jumin thinks, is like crisp autumn air; he wonders if he’s ever been truly honest with anyone before.

“There’s something I want to say to you right now,” he says. He finds that he needs to know how the words will taste in his mouth—needs to know if he’s capable of saying them at all.

“What is it?” she asks, and he smiles because he can tell she already knows.

He’s not standing on a cliff anymore, staring down into the abyss. Before he realized what she was doing, she led him away—guided him to this new place, where he is warm and his feet are on solid ground.

“I love you,” he tells her. It tastes like sweet chocolate on his tongue; it is the truest thing he’s ever said.

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six

It is far too late to turn back by the time Saeyoung looks at her sleeping face and realizes the magnitude of what he has done.

He is driving on an empty road that seems to stretch ahead infinitely. It is the space between him and his other half—and the distance separating them is measurable for the first time in so many years. She has fallen asleep in the passenger seat, his jacket spread over her lap, her face perfectly serene. Her lips form a tiny, placid smile—as though she’s content to be walking into fire with him. As though she doesn’t have any doubts.

I am a monster, he thinks (not for the first time). What sort of despicable person lets a someone like her get entangled in their nightmare? She shines so bright that his heart aches.

She wakes (of course she does), and he drags his eyes from her face back to the road, pretending not to see. He wonders if there is still time to deposit her somewhere safe, to leave his heart in her care as he goes on alone.

If anything were to happen to her, that would be the end of him. He’s sure of it.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, keeping his voice light. But she knows better, of course—sees through him the way she always has. She frowns and leans over to brush his arm with her fingers; his whole body shivers at her touch and he is ashamed, knowing she can tell.

“What’s wrong?” she asks him. He gives her his most convincing smile, but he knows it’s lopsided on his face. What has happened to him? She has shattered all his defenses; she has plunged headfirst into the dark pit of his fears.

“Nothing,” he says; and she makes that clicking noise with her tongue that always disarms him, almost like she’s saying shhhh, now tell the truth. “I shouldn’t have brought you,” he says (hating the way his voice sounds, like he might just burst into tears).

She sighs.

“Do I have to tell you again all the reasons why you’re wrong?” Her sternness makes him smile—he can’t help it. He glances at her and her eyes are hard, glittering like the afternoon sun on the windshield.

“Please do,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse. She shifts, sitting cross-legged, tucking her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. She’s so cute like this he’s afraid his heart will burst.

“I’m going to help you,” she tells him firmly. “You may be the smartest person in the whole world, but you’re no good at staying calm.”

She’s right, of course—he never has been.

“You’ll do your best work with me beside you,” she says. “You get us in and I’ll keep us safe. If you want to save him, you need me there, too.”

Saeyoung’s hands—normally so steady, because he’s trained them to be that way—shake as he grips the steering wheel.

“I’ve never really cared about staying safe,” he tells her. She huffs, frustrated, refusing to let him wallow. And then she reaches for him, brushing his hair off his forehead; though her fingers are cool, he feels that she’s set his whole body on fire.

“Too bad,” she says. “I care about keeping you safe, Seven.”

Oh, and that name feels hateful to him when she says it: he can hardly stand the thought of her believing, even for a moment, any of the hundreds of thousands of lies he’s told. He wants her to see him for who he really is.

“Thank you,” he murmurs; she smiles, a hand on his knee, and he feels that she is the brightest star in all the galaxies.

It’s time, he thinks.

When they make it out alive (and in that moment, he decides that they will)—whether it is today, or tomorrow, or the next day—he is going to tell her his real name. Because Seven is a conglomerate of pretense and brightly-colored lies; because Saeyoung is a version of himself that he’s hardly dared to dream about: a person who’s loving, and honest, and good. 

He can become that person, he thinks, for her. He wants to.

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seven

It is May. She counts on her fingers the number of exams she has left, feeling the shivering promise of time passing on her very skin. She can see to the end of the long, dark tunnel now: the delightful hollowness of summer afternoons, the wonder of falling asleep at night without a thousand anxieties dancing around on her pillow. She sees, too, the plane she will board in the fall—the one that will carry her far away from here.

She sits at her desk, notecards stacked perilously high around her. Her phone buzzes; she checks it. Her head pounds.

“You aren’t playing that game, are you?”

Her mother’s voice from the doorway is harsh and she jumps, upsetting a pile of papers covered in nearly incomprehensible scrawl. She feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snaps, throwing her phone onto her unmade bed.

“Just checking,” her mother says stiffly. She buries her head in her arms.

I wish they could see me now, she thinks wildly. Her room is a mess; there are dark circles under her eyes; she hasn’t brushed her hair. This house is a pressure cooker: the looming stacks of notes, and her mother’s stern voice, and the calendar of exams taped above her desk. She can’t see straight anymore.

It is a sense of control, she thinks, that she needs. Here, she has none at all: every moment of her day is monitored, every ounce of her energy expended to prepare for these tests that feel meaningless—that will earn her numbers on a page and a ticket out of her hometown.

But in the other universe, she is strong, and she is confident. Perhaps most important of all: she is cherished.

And they are cherished, she thinks; she wishes she could tell them as much.

Do you know? she thinks at them—hard as she can, heart racing, knowing it is foolish (wanting to believe, anyway). Do you know how much you mean to me?

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eight

When Jihyun wakes in the small, sterile room, the moon has risen, and the first thing he thinks of is her face.

In his mind’s eye, he pictures her as he saw her last: slipping from the room with a determined smile, waving as if to reassure him that he’d see her soon. Groggily, he tries to think: this was hours ago, of course, and it must be evening now. His body feels heavy; he tries to open his eyes, and finds that he can’t.

He lifts a hand to his face, feeling like he’s moving through thick liquid. Ah: there is a bandage over his eyes. He can feel it now: stiff and scratchy against his closed eyelids. 

From somewhere in the room (which he can no longer picture clearly), he hears a quiet voice.

“V? Are you awake?

It’s her—and he is somewhat surprised by the way his heart races. He didn’t expect her to wait with him this whole time—he didn’t realize that she was nearby.

“I’m awake,” he says—and his voice sounds strange to him, like it’s coming from someone else. He hears a rustling—someone is moving closer to the bed. Oh, and he catches a whiff of her scent; he’s never been able to quite place it, but it is absolutely intoxicating: like a garden he walked through once, long ago—or perhaps a flower that only grows in another world.

“I’m going to call the nurse,” she says. She is so close that he can feel her breath on his face. He reaches out—catches her hand.

“Wait just a moment?” he asks. He wonders if she can hear his heart.

How strange, he thinks. He is barely awake, and yet his heart is racing as though he’s just run a hundred miles.

“They said it went really well,” she says. He doesn’t miss the anxiety in her voice; he wonders how many hours she’s been here, watching him sleep. 

“You didn’t have to wait with me,” he says. 

“Of course I did.”

Jihyun realizes that he is still holding her hand. His head feels so foggy from the medicine that made him sleep, but his body is waking up now, and he’s painfully conscious of how small her hand is in his—tiny and almost unbearably tender. He wishes he could kiss every one of her sweet fingertips; he wishes he could see her face.

“Thank you,” he says. He means thank you for staying here with me—here in this room that smells strongly of disinfectant—but he means so much more than that, too. She sighs in the way he’s often heard her sigh: like she wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. He wouldn’t mind if she did.

“How do you feel?” she asks instead. She’s being careful, tiptoeing around him; he’s not sure how to tell her that she doesn’t need to.

“A little tired,” he admits. “But otherwise I feel well.” He hesitates. “Better than usual, actually.”

She laughs quietly; he feels he might do anything—anything in the world—just to hear that laugh again.

“You’re so strong,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. She is the one who is strong, he thinks. 

There’s a noise in the distance: a gentle knock on the door. The doctor is coming back, he supposes; suddenly, he feels not at all strong. He holds her hand tighter—finds that he doesn’t want her to go.

“Will you wait for me?” he asks, despising the way his voice sounds. He does not sound like a man who is worthy of her attention—he knows he is not a man who deserves to be waited for.

But she holds his hand to her cheek, and her skin is so warm. Jihyun wonders if she understands what he is really asking: not stay with me now but wait until I become someone who can love you the way you deserve.

“Of course I’ll wait for you,” she says. She speaks slowly: each word seems to hold enormous weight.

She knows, he thinks, exactly what he means.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

nine

Hand-in-hand, they look up at the sky.

Saeran sees the endless expanse of freedom extending in all directions around him, and feels that she is the very center of it all.

“Are you nervous?” she asks. He laughs; just moments before, he had felt that way—when he was typing (fingers aching as they fell into their habitual pattern of worrying over the keys—eyes burning and throat itching as he tried to breathe the cabin’s stale air). But now that he is outside—and she is standing beside him—he feels that he has the power to do anything: to run till his feet give out; to see his brother again; to build a life for himself.

“Not anymore,” he says. She moves closer, her arm brushing against his, and he turns to press his lips to her hairline. She squirms at his side, making a delightful sort of purring sound; Saeran feels that he could hold onto her from now until forever and it wouldn’t be enough.

He breathes in the mountain air: it smells like pine and grass and wind. He’s never felt like this before—like he is as strong as the earth itself.

“I’m happy,” she tells him. He feels her eyes on him and turns; oh, and she’s more beautiful than the sky, he thinks, brighter and more expansive than any fantasy his fevered mind could have dreamed up.

“What are you happy about?” he asks. She takes his other hand; he wonders if she knows that he wants to scoop up the whole world in his arms and lay it at her feet.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” she tells him. “I’m happy that you’re free. I’m happy that you’re smiling the way you are right now.”

He is smiling, he realizes; he feels almost as if he could levitate off the ground. As if he could become the wind. As if he could cross into another universe to hold onto her heart.

“I love you,” he tells her, because it’s all he can think about. She catapults herself into his arms and he laughs, holding her close.

“I love you so much,” she says. “I just want…”

He knows. He brushes through her hair with his fingers, thrilled by the way she sighs as she snuggles closer. This is it, he thinks: the feeling of freefall that he has been seeking (and running from) all his life. The rhythm of her breathing against his chest ties him to the earth; he feels an absolute certainty in the sublime power of the universe. 

Over her head, he looks at the sky. The clouds whisper to him: she’s here, they seem to say. She is. She is.

Her body feels so solid in his arms, so real; and her love for him shimmers in the air all around him.

“Thank you,” Saeran whispers into her soft, sweet skin, “for being under the same sky.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

ten

Summer comes.

She finishes her tests—bids goodbye to her friends and family—is startled by how much she cries.

She boards the plane with her ticket crushed in her sweaty hand. She sits by the window, palm against the glass, staring hard into the clouds.

In the distance, she can see the city she’s leaving behind: the buildings blur into the mist, and she is crying again. For years, she’s waited to run away from this place—now, it feels so strange to be leaving it behind. She pictures her room in her old house: the books stacked in neat piles now, the clothes laundered and folded into her suitcase, the bed made. She wishes she could pull out her phone and open the door to the other world—the one that’s offered her greater clarity than anything she’s ever felt in her own.

But she can’t, of course—not here. And at the end of this long plane ride will be another airport—and a car ride—and then the university she worked so hard to get into: the promise of a future that’s shimmering and full.

She holds her phone—powered off—in both hands. Here in the sky, she feels she could be in any world at all: her past, or her future, or their world, which still shines in her heart (perhaps brightest of all).

I’m okay, she thinks—and she knows that she is. She has confidence in the future she’s building for herself—in the person she’s becoming—in her own little corner of the universe.

She hopes that they know this. Their world feels both far away and wonderfully, impossibly close: inside her and all around her. She hopes that they are okay, too; that they are eating; that they are taking care.

Oh, she thinks—realizes, in a moment of sky blue clarity. I’m not going back.

She is moving on—as she always knew she would. And they knew too, of course. They must have.

But…

I love you, she thinks—thinks it hard, phone in her hands, face pressed against the window, eyes reflecting the faces she thinks she sees in the clouds. I love you all.

From her universe to theirs—connected only by lines of code and fervent feelings and a wish made on a falling star—she hopes (wishes, prays) that her message reaches them.

The clouds shift: love, love, love, they seem to say. The plane carries her higher. The sky stretches around her in all directions: infinite. Expanding.

They feel her.

She knows it.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’) 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.  

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul. 

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.  

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7

[lastxviolet]

In Neglected Fields, the Fern Grows - Ch. 4

Fred Weasley x OC 

5,067k 

Chapter 4 / 10 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Slight Dom!Fred, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, masturbation (m), unprotected sex, cursing, mentions of death

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13829826/1/In-Neglected-Fields-the-Fern-Grows

_____________________

"Come here," Fred growled, gripping the back of her neck.

His teeth made contact with her pulse point and she gasped quietly. Her heart pounded in her ears so loud she couldn't hear the creaks and groans of the castle around them. Only Fred's labored breathing against her neck and how much adrenaline was pumping through her veins were audible.

He slid his tongue down her chest, moving her robe as he continued downwards and then dropped to his knees. She frantically looked down and almost panicked about doing this on the floor but stopped as Fred's tongue slid desperately between her legs.

She twitched and gasped against the wall from shock and pleasure.

"Open your legs," he commanded in a silky voice.

She did as she was told and he wasted no time finding her throbbing core.

"Fred," she moaned, gripping his hair, coaxing him closer.

He chuckled and licked her slowly; agonizingly. "Such a good girl for me."

The words sent fire through her veins. This is what she had missed by pushing him away last week. She'd never felt so stupid in her life as she parted her legs further, hoping for more rewards.

Fred gorged himself on her like he hadn't had a meal in years. All the boys before had stirred a tingle or buzz within her. Their touches had been uncoordinated, and purely for their own pleasure. Their fingers went where they wanted, and their tongue only graced the parts of her that they wanted to taste.

But Fred; he was calculated in making her body burn. His lips brushed the most intimate parts of her with adoration and meticulous attention. He responded to each of her sounds with enthusiasm and attacked the places that made her writhe as if he was trying to win some prize. He worked her slow and then quick, alternating between giving her exactly what she wanted and then withholding it. It was maddening bliss. She glanced down and watched as he mirrored the movements of his tongue with the frantic pumping of his hand. The sight nearly threw her over the edge.

"Please," she moaned.

A smile played on his lips as he looked up at her, letting his thumb continue his work slowly, not giving her the chance to reach her peak before they could climb together. Normally, giving him such satisfaction would drive her insane, but for some reason, she didn't mind being putty in his hands.

"Please, what," he whispered, kissing her hipbones.

All she could do was moan, over and over as he gorgeously stroked her. His abilities were a surprise but his talent for teasing was not.

"Don't whine, Fern. I need you to use your words."

"Fuck me," she begged. "Please, fuck me…oh fuck."

He chuckled darkly and rubbed her clit a few more times. Unbelievably, she would've begged more, and more until her throat was raw but he obliged her and began kissing up her stomach. He stopped teasing then, fully standing to pin her against the wall. His erection dug into her stomach, it alone, made her ache.

"Don't move," he whispered, hooking his arm underneath her leg, and pressing it against the wall, to open her up.

They moaned in tandem as he bucked forward and teased her slit with the head of his shaft. He leaned forward and groaned into her chest to keep from pushing into her fully.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she panted.

"Good girls shouldn't say things like that," he cooed, teasing her entrance.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, too drunk on the feeling of him kissing her neck to really focus on giving a coherent answer.

"Maybe you aren't a good girl, then," he teased.

"M'not," she moaned.

He stopped moving then and loomed over her, coming so close to her face that she wondered if he was going to kiss her.

"What are you?"

"Whore," she moaned, moving her hips against the tip of him.

"Wrong answer, Fern."

She searched his expression for the right answer but it only took seconds to see the territorial, and possessive glimmer in his eye.

"Yours…I'm yours — Fred please."

He groaned and bit at her collarbone. "Fuck," he sighed. "Mine. You're mine."

Slowly, the large redhead began pressing himself through her folds. She gasped and braced her hands against his shoulders. He was much larger than anyone else she'd been with. It stung like it was her first time but as he bottomed out inside of her, he hit something she hadn't even known was there. They moaned quietly in tandem as he pulled out and plunged into her again, faster this time.

"Fucking hell," Fred moaned, grabbing her wrists and pressing them against the wall above her head.

"Keep. Your. Hands. There," he commanded with each stroke.

Surely, she looked messy and desperate but for some reason, she liked it. She liked having him smugly in control of her, especially when he'd let her pretend to be in control earlier. The little game made her skin burn and body twitch. He wanted to touch her, tell her what to do, reward her for being good. She felt wanted in a way that was utterly animalistic and unescapable.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

She did as she was told, gladly sticking her tongue out like she had when he'd put his thumb in her mouth. He seemed to like that image because he released her wrists and hastily grabbed her neck.

She kept eye contact and moaned when he pressed his thumb against her tongue again. Feeling bold, she wrapped her lips around the long finger and sucked on it, swirling her tongue around the top as if it was him. He hissed and pumped into her faster.

"You look so pretty with my finger in your mouth, Fern," he purred between labored breaths.

She went slack-jawed as he filled her up over and over again in an unrelenting rhythm. He slid his thumb to the back of her throat and let drool slide down her chin.

"Fuck, I could look at you like this forever," he sighed.

He thrust into her frantically. A moan ripped through her chest as the thumb on her tongue slid down her body and began toying wither her clit.

Despite coming undone himself, Fred chuckled and kissed her chin, absorbing her failed attempts at keeping quiet. "And I thought you didn't like me."

"I don't," she gasped. "But choke me when I cum."

"Fuck," he groaned, furrowing his brow with concentration.

Five more thrusts and she was shaking underneath him.

Her orgasm ripped through her body, intense and hungry for every ounce of control that she had left. Long, strong fingers wrapped around her throat, as requested, and squeezed just enough to give her a taste of oblivion.

The world went dark except for excruciating pleasure pricking every nerve in her body. There weren't words to describe it and she couldn't tell if Fred being the one to give her otherworldly leisure was a good or bad thing.

She was briefly aware of Fred's own orgasm filling her up and seeping from between her legs as she basked in the glow of the high and then begrudgingly came back to reality.

Her surroundings came back into focus and Fred's grip on her loosened. She blinked slowly and leaned her bodyweight fully against the wall. All her energy had been spent but Fred didn't seem to particularly care, or agree.

He looked at her hungrily, like one round wasn't enough. Despite their aversion to intimacy, he brought their forehands together. His mouth twitched and she wasn't sure if he was going to speak or try and kiss her. Would she let him? She half thought of kissing him first or perhaps begging him to lick himself off of the inside of her thighs but a voice down the hall ripped her from the idea.

They jumped and stared at each other wide-eyed and panicked.

Not another fucking detention, she thought.

He placed her leg back on the floor and zipped his pants before ducking out of the alcove to take in the impending doom.

"Fuck," she hissed, pulling her robe tight and picking her clothes up from the floor.

They peeked around the corner together, assessing how much time they had until the prefects entered the corridor.

"Come on," Fred whispered suddenly, wrapping his hand around her wrist and tugging her along behind him.

She had no time to assess the distance or come up with a plan before Fred sprinted down the hall, around the corner, and to a tapestry hanging on the wall. She nearly yelled at him about his terrible hiding spot choice but he surprised her, and lifted it, to reveal an odd-looking door she didn't recognize. To her surprised, it opened with ease, and he led her through the threshold, into a dark hall.

She hissed at him to slow down but besides the tight grip on her hand, he didn't even look like he remembered she was there. He hastily led her up a rickety wooden staircase, through another door at the back of a classroom, and then suddenly, she was at the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower.

She blinked and then did a double-take. By the time her mind registered what had happened, Fred was already walking away.

"How did you do that," she whispered, still staring in awe at her front door.

"Are you going to invite me in," he asked from behind her.

She spun around to stare at the smug wizard who was already halfway through another secret door.

"Not a chance in hell, you twat," she hissed.

"Till next time, then, darling," he cooed, shooting her a wink.

"There won't be — "

But the wooden door slammed closed and she was left alone in the dark hallway.

Her lips didn't stop tingling for nearly a week.

Classes were a blur. Evenings in the library were spent watching her back for Fred to appear through a hidden entrance. Meals became stressful hours, avoiding his intense gaze. Daisy considered sending her to the infirmary but she kept brushing her off, citing that stress about exams before Christmas break was to blame.

Despite her best efforts, it seemed that no matter where she turned or hid, he appeared out of nowhere. When she sat at the Ravenclaw table, his eyes were already attached to her. If she was going down a set of stairs, he was coming up, watching her all the way. If she was walking out of a classroom, he was waiting for someone else, or on his way in. The worst part was that despite becoming her shadow, he always kept his distance and didn't say a word.

She thought that maybe he wanted to keep their psychotic game of cat and mouse going but she sure as hell wasn't going to ask him. She'd seen how he attached himself to girls before, and even though this looked different, felt different, she hated him and was not going to become some hopeless romantic because of a little attention.

He could have her regret, but that was it.

Regret.

He seemed infatuated or at least intrigued but all she could feel was deep, burning, regret.

Part of her wished she would've told him to bugger off last week. The other part, however, wanted to succumb to their standoff first, break into the Gryffindor dorms and throw herself at the insatiable redhead.

Fern stared at her reflection in the Ravenclaw common room windows, watching the sunset over the black lake. The red hue on her cheeks became visible, even bounced off of the glass and tore her away from the lustful thoughts.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass.

Why him, of all people?

Why did it have to be him?

Smug. Arrogant. Annoying.

She glanced over her shoulder and around the common room.

There were half a dozen boys in her own house that were good-looking, handsome even, and yet, utterly uninspiring.

The images of Fred with his hands up her robe morphed into the other options.

Clumsy. Apathetic. Rubbish.

They'd call her sweet names and chase her pleasure well enough but she craved more.

Passion, she realized. It was his passion. And possessiveness.

He didn't just want sex, he wanted her.

On his knees in a hall like a devotee in front of a prophet.

A mortal at the fountain of youth.

Saints at the gates of heaven.

Her face grew hot again.

Thankfully no one noticed.

Laughter erupted around her, making her jump. She turned to glare but other studying upperclassmen quieted the group of giggling first years before she even got the chance. Their faces grew disgruntled and upset, but they'd get used to the shrewdness eventually.

Other common rooms she'd been in were bustling and or at least had an air of relaxation about them, even Slytherin. But here, in the pinnacle of knowledge and learning, with certitude and plenty of stubbornness, friendliness was hard to come by. It wasn't their fault, of course, they'd been indoctrinated into a house known for intelligence and then pit against each other for top of the class, prefect positions, and house points. The situation bred competitiveness, and so, distrust thrived. Ravenclaws cultivated their friendships behind closed doors where alliances were not so obvious and couldn't be weaponized. She didn't mind though. It just meant that, unlike other common room spaces, she was relatively safe from confrontation and socializing out here in the open.

She watched the first years continue to glare around the room and then scanned it herself. There seemed to be nothing exciting going on, so she collected her abandoned homework and almost resigned to her room for the evening when two quiet voices pulled at her ear.

Padma and Mandy, huddled close and whispering, walked swiftly towards the girl's dormitories. They didn't notice her lurking on the sill so she leaned over as they passed, just coming close enough to make out the words, "meeting," and "tomorrow." Her heart leaped at the reminder of the seventh-floor mystery. Her run-ins with a certain annoying redhead had nearly wiped her memory clean of the real problem at hand - Neville.

She stared at her reflection once more, debating on whether or not she should try to figure out what was going on once and for all. He'd told her that she wasn't welcome but…that had never stopped her before.

The girls shut the dorm doors but Fern was hot on their trail, having made her mind up.

"Mandy," she hissed before they made it into their room.

The girls turned around, sporting their usual exuberant smiles. When they graduated, the energy levels in Ravenclaw would diminish by at least 50%.

"Hi, Fern," they sang in unison.

She greeted them pleasantly, hoping their guards were down. Besides the Weasley twins, they were the only ones she knew who might have a clue about what Neville was up to. This was her only shot.

"Sorry to do this out in the open," she whispered, gaining more invested looks. "But Nev forgot to tell me what time we were all meeting tomorrow."

She held her breath, waiting for their skepticism, rejection, accusation, or anything that would thwart her risky plan. She realized in the few seconds that it took for either girl to speak, that she hadn't thought this through at all and was a complete and total idiot.

"What," Mandy breathed, looking quite shocked.

If it was a harmless study group then there was no harm done, but if it was something else, actually worth her skepticism, then she had to at least try.

"Well he only just told me that I should…join you all but —I mean you know him, of course, he forgot to tell me the time."

Shock dissolved to joy and then it was her turn to be surprised by their blinding smiles and bright eyes.

"You're really going join," Padma chirped excitedly.

Fern nodded, eyeing them critically, and wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

Padma leaned forward and shook her shoulder. "Neville was so sure you'd hate him for being a part of it. How daft!"

Her mind worked over the few, vague choices she had remaining.

"Well…it seemed like the right thing to do," she responded with confidence. "And he asked so…"

"Bloody hell, Nev was honestly at his whits end about it — "

Mandy shushed her friend. "Oh never mind that! Welcome, welcome!"

Fern nodded and smiled, hoping for more information.

"I can't say it's terribly fun, realizing how ill-prepared we are to fight Death Eaters and all that but Harry's a great teacher!"

Her jaw clicked and her vision was red with fury.

Idiots.

"Do you remember what we're working on tomorrow," Mandy asked, turning to Padma.

"Levicorpus? I don't know, something that'll scare the shit out of everyone."

"Like always," Mandy responded, nodding in thought. "But anyway, I think it's 6:30 in the evening."

Useless, unthinking, idiots.

"The usual place?" Fern's teeth slotted together sharply with a frustrated clack.

Mandy nodded. "It'll be brill to have you!"

They flitted into their room, talking happily about how much of a worrywart her brother was. And then she was alone in the corridor, staring out the blazing window at the end of the hall.

Worried for good reason she thought, turning on her heel and sprinting towards the Fat Lady.

Images of Neville in a hospital bed next to their parents plagued her thoughts as she crossed the castle. He'd told her it was nothing but he was in some sort of training camp for Potter's next mission. They'd been back at school for months and he never thought to mention that he was preparing to risk his life. Padma said he was afraid for her to know. She blinked back angry tears.

He was right to be afraid.

A group of Gryffindors was entering when she was a few feet away so she sped up and caught the portrait before it closed.

"Neville Longbottom," she yelled, stomping into the common room and looking around wildly.

A chorus of yells and shushing followed her but she didn't care. The auburn and yellow room was packed to the brim with wide-eyed Gryffindors. Good, she thought, someone will give him up.

She shoved a few kids out of the way but didn't see Neville's hunched posture or dark hair so she made a b-line for the boy's dormitory.

"Neville Longbottom," she yelled again, banging on the door.

"Bloody hell, woman. What are you screaming for?"

Of course.

Fred stood at the base of the stone steps behind her, looking annoyingly amused at her angry state. He'd watched her all week, so it was no surprise that he'd be present for her finest moment.

"Where is my brother," she hissed, stomping down towards him, unleashing hell.

"Have you hit your head?"

"Get out of my fucking way."

He did the opposite, of course, and crossed his arms before casually leaning against the stone threshold.

"You're a madwoman," he laughed.

Her hand shot out, reaching for any part of him she could grab. He didn't even try to move as she bunched the collar of his sweater into a fist.

"I was right about you," she spat, yanking him as hard as she could. "You're corrupting him. You and your fucking club."

His eyes went wide but she didn't have time to hear his response or even register his reaction when movement out of the corner of her eye drew all of her attention.

A dark-haired boy, clutching a plant rushed out from behind a column.

"Neville, get back here," she yelled again, shoving a gaping Fred out of the way.

Her brother darted for the portrait and made it down one flight of the moving stairs and into an empty sixth-floor hallway before she caught up with him.

"Astronomy homework?"

He turned and backed away into a wall, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"Oh, hi Fern," he stammered, avoiding eye contact.

"Were you ever going to tell me what you were really doing?"

The look on his face was of pure terror but she didn't care. He was going to get himself killed. She'd rather he be scared of her, than face the actual evils of the real world. Her fury was nothing compared to theirs.

"I…I…I was just waiting for the right time — I knew you'd be angry."

"Angry? I'm beyond that, Nev. I am fucking livid," she hissed, stepping closer.

"Oi!"

She whirled around, ready to hex whoever was interrupting the family moment. Fred appeared from the stairwell, jogging a little like her brother needed saving. How could he not see that she was saving Neville from him and his merry band of idiots?

"You," she raged. "Fuck off."

He stopped in his tracks and threw his hands up in surrender. A smile played on his lips until he took in the look on her face, which was hopefully radiating pure murder.

"Fern, don't do this here — "

"You have done enough," she snarled. "Leave."

He took a step closer, glancing around for an audience.

"Listen, just pipe down and — "

"FUCK OFF!"

Fred stumbled back a bit and shot a questionable look at Neville over her shoulder.

"It's fine," her brother whispered, waving his friend off.

The redhead shot her another pleading look but she turned around before he took the chance to open his meddling mouth again and waited until she heard his retreating footsteps to continue.

"Death Eaters? Have you gone mad?"

Neville's face grew bright red. "I was going to tell you…"

"Tell. Me. Now."

She felt terrible but her shy little brother folded immediately. He told her about the return of you-know-who, Harry Potters's paranoia, and the group's gripe with Defense Against the Dark Arts and Umbridge. It was a task and a half but she stayed quiet when he told her about everyone involved and how often they practiced forbidden hexes and spells. He didn't look her in the eye until the story was finished, and she was seething.

"You're playing at war, Nev."

His eyes went wide and she knew they were in for a fight.

"We are practicing for war. Which is coming, by the way. Umbridge isn't teaching us anything, Fern so what do you expect me to do?"

"Go to classes and not get mixed up in Potter's scheme!"

"It's not a scheme, it's — it's something real."

"Yeah, real fucking stupid."

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Why? Because I value my life? Because I'm not willing to lie down in front of the first kid with a hero complex and a nice speech, who tells me that I can do something more?"

"Harry's not like that! He fought you-know-who last year and he says that — bad things will happen if we aren't prepared for what's coming. He's just trying to help."

"I don't doubt that but just because he wants to fight … doesn't mean you have to."

He hung his head again, going back to the sheepish boy she thought she knew. When did he start having dreams of glory?

"I don't have to but…I want to because we're a team — an army, so we'll fight together."

Neville looked back up, staring at her with anxious eyes and a broken expression but despite that, she could suddenly see the backbone of gold he'd developed somewhere in the last few years in Gryffindor.

"They can fight without you — they will fight without you because I forbid you to be any part of it."

It was harsh, controlling, and mean, all of the things he scolded her about, but this was about his safety, not her likability. If he was gold, she was fire.

"You — you can't do that. You're not my — "

"Not who," she interrupted harshly. "Not Mum?"

A tear fell and her anger finally boiled over.

"Where is your mum, Nev? Where is our mum?"

Neville glanced around the hall for help but there was no saving him. The next time she saw Potter, she was going to do the dark lord a favor and kill him herself.

"Oh that's right," she seethed. "She's half-dead in a hospital because she got mixed up in someone else's war. She chose fighting and glory over us — over family and if you want to do the same then fine. I look forward to holding your fucking hand when you're admitted to St. Mungo's right next to our brave mum and dad! Join the legacy of dead heroes for all I care —"

Her next words were knocked out of her mouth as strong arms swept her off of her feet.

"Alright, I think we've heard enough outta you," Fred bellowed, swinging her over his shoulder. "Time to calm down."

She fought to breathe as his shoulder made contact with her stomach.

"I told you to fuck off," she screeched, clawing at him to break free.

He instantly began walking and she could see them passing Neville in her peripheral.

"Longbottom, get outta here, I got her," Fred commanded, not loosening his grip, despite her struggle.

"Put me down, asshole!"

She heard Neville follow them for a moment to say "Don't be mad," and then scurry off towards safety.

Traitor.

Her blood boiled, bringing her beyond rationality, not that she had much left, to begin with. All she could do was snarl in response.

Fred didn't seem to care as he carried her through a threshold before setting her down inside of a dark, empty classroom.

Fuming, she shoved him against the closed door and screamed.

"GET OFF! Why can't anyone just listen to me? "

"Easy there, crazy," he mumbled, holding his hands up in surrender again.

His face was stoic but she could still see the faint smirk permanently stamped on his face behind the air of seriousness. It fueled her anger even more. He could take nothing seriously and now he was interfering with her family.

"I'm not fucking crazy. I just care about my little brother and you're getting in the way," she seethed, stalking away from him, deeper into the maze of desks, desperately looking for another exit.

"Why are you so upset," he called, somewhat accusingly. "Shouldn't you be proud? Following in footsteps or whatever."

Idiots, idiots, idiots. She whipped around to glare at the absolute idiot.

He was oblivious to risk because he was oblivious to suffering. Every foolhardy mission that Potter and the lot of them had attempted, had a happy ending, so far. They'd gotten lucky, but they were arrogant to think that fate would always be on their side. She'd thought that of all people, the boy who lived knew the possible consequences but apparently, he had nothing left to lose.

She'd kill him for gambling with her brother's life. Maybe she'd maim Fred just to drive home her point.

"Footsteps," she repeated quietly, moving to stand in front of him. "Like a cow to slaughter. He called you all an army, Fred!"

"Well, maybe we are," he shrugged.

"An army of children," she bellowed, showing his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and towered over her, daring her to do it again.

"Not true, I'm 18," he smirked. "So is George."

"You're an imbecile," she sneered, moving towards the door.

He stepped in front of her and locked it.

"Takes one, darling," he laughed.

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Don't call me that!"

"You are lashing out at me, Fern, but I'm not the reason you're angry," he scolded, suddenly more serious than she'd ever seen him.

"Aren't you? You're just letting it happen! You could've talked Potter out of it or put your foot down as the only adult in the room, but no! You chose to go along with the delusions of a 15-year-old, so congrats, your complacency is going to get children killed by the most prolific killer of all time."

He looked taken aback for a moment and then anger burst behind his amber eyes. She didn't flinch when he lunged forward to get in her face.

"What would you have us do? Nothing? You know what's out there Fern, better than anyone! Bloody hell, I — I mean I always thought that at least one of you Longbottom's had your parent's bravery but I never thought it'd end up being Neville!"

"Don't talk about my parents, and don't call me a coward!"

"Then stop being one," he roared. "For as long as I have known you, you've been a bossy, antagonizing, contrarian. You'll stare down me, George, Malfoy, professors, anyone who crosses you! I've never even seen you pause before launching an attack! What's different about this?"

She backed away from him, not out of fear or offense but because she could feel the heat radiating off of him, and it was suddenly too much of a reminder about his hands on her body, and his mouth between her legs.

"Bloody hell, are you hearing yourself," she groaned. "The difference is that I don't share your death wish! If you want to sacrifice yourself and your whole family to you-know-who, then that is your fucking business but I won't let you put my brother in harm's way!"

"Sacrifice my family," he repeated, dumbfounded and angry.

"Yes," she spat. "Some big brother you are, sending them to an early grave."

His nostrils flared and he brought them closer together.

"Watch your fucking mouth," Fred hissed.

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. His bared teeth were so close, she thought that if she had less of a backbone, she might've swooned.

They were screaming about death, family, and dignity so — why did she want to kiss him?

"Don't fucking curse at me, asshole!"

Why did she want to kill him?

He stepped closer. "If you weren't such a fucking bitch — "

She supposed he deserved it but there was still a pang of guilt as her hand made contact with his cheekbone. It was strangely smooth, and cold, almost like marble. She thought he'd back away or clutch his face and yell but he didn't give her a moment to continue the thought before grabbing both her wrists and pinning her to the top of a desk.

[willowbird]

can we get an Aaron POV of him beating the abuslute shit out of Jack in the locker room. i’m talking about slamming this boys head into the locker beating, he need kevin, matt and nicky to get aaron to stop and even then he still struggling to get more in till andrew comes into his vision. show me that same aaron from that secne in thanksgiving!!!

I am so SO sorry it's taken me so long to answer this!! Work was getting hectic and I was working on something else BUT now I'm for sure gonna get through the rest of these asks ^.^

Aaron losing his shit on Jack, huh? Well, we can sure do that ^.^ 

I changed a few things from your prompt just because as I was sitting down to write it made the most sense to me that if Aaron was gonna go after Jack it probably wouldn’t be about Andrew or Neil. Neil and Andrew take care of themselves, more or less, and if they can’t then they’ve got each other. Not that Aaron wouldn’t beat the ever-living shit out of Jack for doing or saying something to Andrew, but he just probably wouldn’t have to -- if only because Andrew doesn’t care enough about Jack to be affected by him. 

Nicky on the other hand...? Well, I’m a bit soft for the twins being protective of Nicky.

Warning for violence, depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, triggering language. Take care of  yourselves.

----

“Jesus fucking Christ. That was the most pathetic excuse of teamwork I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life, and this is my sixth year coaching this fucks-forsaken team.” Coach Wymack had just spent the last twenty minutes ripping all of them brand new assholes. They were all tired, they were all angry, and they were all ready for this day to be fucking over, but it wasn’t over until the Coach had had his say, so here they were -- sitting in the locker room, getting chewed out again. 

Not that they didn’t deserve it. Aaron knew they did.

It had been a brutal fucking loss. The Foxes trashed by some half-cocked team from Alabama. Even with Andrew actively trying to block the goal, there was only so much he could do when the other team’s offense kept breaking through their defensive line to swarm the goal. Matt was off the court with an injury, which meant the only backliners they had were Aaron, Nicky, and Keith -- the freshman backliner who still couldn’t figure out how to fucking pass to a moving target. 

Aaron cared less about the loss than he did about the cause for it, and not for the same reasons as half the rest of the team. 

Nicky had been all thumbs and no energy tonight, but that hadn’t been a surprise -- not to Aaron or any of the rest of the monsters. Nicky had been off for a few days, his usual chatty, chipper demeanor whittled down to strained smiles and shrugs in a way that the rest of the team had never seen before. Well, most of the rest of the team. Aaron had seen this before. Andrew had too. Neil and Kevin hadn’t witnessed it directly, but by now the other two “monsters” knew Nicky well enough to know this other side of him existed even if they hadn’t seen it. 

So yeah, he’d gone into this game knowing it was going to suck -- knowing that they might lose. Maybe that had been their mistake. He, Andrew, Kevin, and Neil had been distracted -- torn between concern for Nicky and the need to cover for him. The freshmen had been a nightmare about it and what the fuck even was teamwork. At halftime, the commentators had called it one of the worst performances by the Foxes in three years. 

Yeah.

But at least it was fucking over, right?

“Now get showered up and get the fuck outta my sight. I don’t want to see a single one of you fuckers until tomorrow -- yeah, that’s right, we’re having Saturday fucking practice thanks to that sorry excuse of a game you pissed all over tonight.” Coach glared at all of them in turn. “By tomorrow I expect Nolan and Fisk to get their heads out of each other’s ass and Hemmick?” The big man’s gaze landed on Aaron’s cousin and he felt himself go stiff. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andrew stand up from where he was leaning against the lockers. 

“Learn how to be a little less fucking useless. I don’t know what the fuck has been up with you the past few days but get it figure the fuck out. You hear me?”

The first pulse of genuine rage ignited in Aaron’s veins. His hands curled into fists and his vision narrowed. Nicky’s quiet, tightly muttered, “Yes Coach,” was partially drowned out by the dull roar in his ears. 

Anything he might have said or done was stymied, however, by Andrew, who slammed his fist against the lockers, drawing everyone’s attention away from Nicky and onto him. 

“Coach, I think we need to chat.” By whatever magic Andrew had over everyone that made everyone automatically take him more seriously than anyone else, he had Coach’s attention, just like that. The man snorted then jerked his head toward the door.

“Fine, but make it quick. I need to try and block out what just happened.”

Coach and Andrew left the room. For a minute, there was a tense, weighty silence, then someone whined and someone else bitched and normalcy returned -- well, normal for a really shitty fucking day anyway. The women split off to their changing room to shower and get ready, and several of the guys did the same. 

Nicky remained seated, staring blankly down at his hands, shoulders slumped in utter defeat. That anger curled in Aaron again -- not at Nicky and not at the fucking game, but at Coach and the team for being so fucking stupid, and at himself for not knowing what the fuck to do about any of it. Nicky’s depression was an open secret among their group. It was something they all knew of but never talked about. This was probably the worst episode he’d had in years and Aaron just felt... fucking powerless. 

When they’d noticed it, they’d closed ranks around Nicky as a group and shut out the rest of the team in a way they hadn’t done since the cousins’ freshman year. None of them were soft enough to take care of Nicky in the way he probably needed, but Andrew drove Nicky to Reddin Thursday morning and Aaron and Neil joined forces in helping Kevin hold his fucking tongue during practices when Nicky struggled to keep up with the rest of them. 

It was not gentle support, but it was all they had to offer.

It just... wasn’t fucking enough. 

“Jesus, Hemmick, are you fucking crying?” Aaron jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of Jack Nolan’s sharp, mocking voice. It was edged with a cruelty that went beyond the typical assholishness of the Foxes. 

“What, forgot how to fucking talk too? Wow, you really are useless aren’t you?” Jack continued when Nicky only flinched at his ridicule and didn’t rebuke him like he usually would.

“Hey, Jack, leave him the fuck alone. You didn’t do so great out there yourself tonight so why don’t you worry about yourself,” Matt barked from where he’d been sitting through Coach’s dress-down. He was wearing his jersey but since he hadn’t played tonight there was no need for him to have to peel gear off or shower. 

“Whatever.” Jack rolled his eyes like a petulant fucking teenager, but the look he shot Nicky was all cold predator. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and just go kill yourself?”

Even over the exclamation of Matt’s reprimand, Aaron still heard Nicky’s breath hitch. He remembered, vividly, the night two years ago when he and Nicky had been drinking and he’d asked him ‘How the fuck did make it through? We were fucking assholes, we are assholes, and you still stayed.’ He remembered not expecting the answer he got. He remembered Nicky looking down into his drink and saying, ‘I almost didn’t. Probably the only reason I didn’t try to off myself again was knowing that if I did, you two would go to my parents and I... I couldn’t let that happen. Didn’t care about me, but I could care about you. Caring about you guys kept me alive.’

He remembered the sick feeling in his stomach and the way that knowledge cut through his buzz, striking him sober with one fucking word: again.

Aaron did not make the decision to grab Jack, or if he did it was overwhelmed by the roar of the monster under his skin as it surged suddenly up from whatever dark place it had been lurking since that violent, bloody night last November. All he knew was that one moment he was standing there, and the next he had his hands on something that needed to shut the fuck up. 

He only vaguely registered the shouts around him as he dug his fingers into Jack’s shirt and whirled him around. Then the only thing that existed was the feeling of flesh and bone and the slick of blood against his knuckles as he drove his fists into every soft part of the body in front of him as hard as he fucking could. Jacks hands scrabbled ineffectually at Aaron’s shoulders, then his face, trying to hit him or grab his hair or push him off, but for all that Aaron was a small man he was a fucking backliner for a reason and he threw every single ounce of his muscle into shoving Jack into the lockers. 

A second later he was on him again, taking a fistful of his hair so he could slam his head into the lockers until the fucker’s knees buckled and he went down. 

All he could hear was the rumble of rage in his veins. There was no thought, no goal, no understanding -- not of anything but the raw, unfiltered hate pouring out of him as he followed Jack to the ground. Distantly, he knew there was shouting or screaming -- that there were words being thrown at him and hands desperately trying to haul him back. He felt the fingers curling around his biceps and tugging on his shoulders. But his wrath was far too powerful and each time someone got a grip he was able to wrench free and use that momentum to land another hit. 

At one point a solid arm wound around his waist and hauled him up and away. A sound like a feral animal ripped from his throat as Aaron thrashed wildly, trying to throw himself back onto Jack. The man had stopped moving at this point but there was a wet, raspy sound coming from him that still spoke of life and maybe Aaron hadn’t consciously decided to keep going until it stopped, but the drive was there all the same. 

The rest of the room was hazy around the edges, people were blurs of sound and color. The only thing in focus was the wheezing form of Jack fucking Nolan on the floor, and Aaron fought viciously to get back to him, jerking at the arms holding him back, kicking and trying to lash out with all his strength. 

Until something blocked his view. And it took a minute for Aaron to recognize what it was. To recognize who it was. 

“A-Aaron. Aaron. Stop. Please. It’s o-okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. S-stop...” 

The rest of the world snapped back into focus at the sound of Nicky’s gasped, broken words. Aaron stopped fighting so suddenly that he and everyone trying to hold him back stumbled. There were three of them, he realized -- Matt, Kevin, and Dan. Neil and Andrew were flanking Nicky, the three of them blocking his view of Jack’s prone, gasping form but not actually trying to stop him from killing him. 

Nicky was crying, his eyes wide and his hands trembling as he held them out in front of Aaron, pleading him to stop. 

Aaron took a few more heavy breaths and realized he’d been panting. He looked from Nicky to Andrew’s cool, appraising stare, then to Neil’s similar expression before finally glancing beyond them to the mess that might have once been Jack Nolan. When he dragged his gaze back to Nicky, all he said was, “He shouldn’t have opened his fucking mouth.”

Nicky made a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh. Then he did something he almost never did and launched forward, wrapping his arms around Aaron in a tight hug. In a reflex that Aaron didn’t even know he had, his arms snapped around his cousin and he hugged him back just as fiercely. 

As Nicky sobbed onto his shoulder, Aaron looked over his hunched form and met his brother’s gaze. There weren’t words that could translate the look they shared just then, but if he had to label it, it might have been something like understanding. 

[andguesswhat]

The fool on the hill- Chapter 12

Now

*

Owen watched Tom walk away and had to close his eyes for a moment.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

That was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

For Tom to get hurt.

He rubbed his eyes. His thoughts were spinning in his head, his heart ached. He felt paralyzed.

He had been so damn sure that it would be the best for both of them when they just didn’t go further. That keeping their distance would help them. Because once they crossed the line, there would be no turning back. And then what? Tom lived in goddamn London. When… When would they see each other again? Without coming under suspicion.

Maybe never.

It just wouldn’t work.

So why go through this then? Just for a few weeks…

It was hard, every day, every time he got close to Tom and just wanted to jump him, but it the end – he had been so sure – this would be the better choice. For both of them. He didn't want either of them to get hurt by this.

And he had been so sure that Tom would realize that, too.

That this was the only way to get out of this without getting hurt too much.

Or without him hurting Tom too much. He knew himself well enough to know he would.

He couldn’t bear that thought. So during the pandemic break he had made the decision that this time he would act responsible. That this time he wouldn’t be the one hurting someone because he just did what he wanted. This time there wouldn’t be anyone who could blame him, especially not himself.

But what were the cost?

What, when Tom was already hurt?

Tom had looked so sad.

Owen couldn’t stand that he was the reason for this.

He sighed and looked around.

Only then did he notice that Richard was standing in front of his own trailer, looking at him with his arms folded. Okay, that was awkward. Had he been standing there the whole time? Had he involuntarily witnessed Tom’s outburst?

Judging by the admonishing look he gave Owen, he had. This look said nothing else then

“Fix this! Now! Or I’ll kick your ass!”

But even though you, of course, always do what Richard E. Grant tells you to do, Owen didn’t need any kick in the ass anymore, he had realized now how wrong he had been.

Because he had realized now that it was going to hurt either way.

They were already in way too deep for it not to hurt. The longing had become unbearable, and if he was honest, it had been for a long time.

Tom was right. They shouldn’t waste the time they had left.

So fuck being responsible. He didn’t give a shit anymore.

He rather decided that it was his responsibility to make Tom happy.

Now.

He jogged to Tom’s trailer, knocked at the door and waited impatiently for Tom to open while his heart was hammering in his chest. He couldn’t wait to finally do what he wanted to do for what felt like forever.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected how Tom would react to him when he opened the door but the cool and dismissive gaze Tom gave him felt like a punch to the gut.

Owen tried a soft and gentle “Hey…” but as soon as he had said it he knew this wasn’t a good start.

Of course, Tom didn’t reply, just clenched his jaw and looked at him with those sad and hurt eyes.

Okay, Owen really needed to fix this.

So without a further word he stepped into the trailer and tried to ignore the fact that Tom immediately took a step back from him, still with that repellent look on this face.

Owen probably should have said something, something smart, but he got the feeling that he needed to do something first.

So slowly, ever so slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, he reached out his hand… and he was glad to see that after Tom’s eyes at first flickered dangerously, they fell shut for a millisecond when Owen dared to put his hand on his cheek.

So far so good.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he then slid his hand around Tom’s neck to pull him closer, the slight resistance he felt at first, fortunately vanished soon, and when Tom’s eyes softened, Owen swiftly pulled him against his lips and did what he should have done a long time ago.

He kissed him.

Kissed Tom.

On the lips.

His lips on Tom’s.

For a second, the world stood still.

And then everything happened very quickly. Like a starting signal for both of them, they fell over each other. Desperate, hungry, needy. They had both needed this for so long, so they were taking it all.

Desperate hands captivated the other, hungry lips needed to feel the other’s, needy tongues invaded each other’s mouths, fighting for dominance. More than once their teeth clashed, it was raw, but they could not help themselves.

Soon their hands were everywhere, grabbing, pulling closer, clawing into each other’s asses when it still wasn’t close enough, pressing their groins together, their hard-ons together until one hand finally moved between their legs.

A small moan escaped Owen’s mouth when Tom gripped his hard-on firmly through the pants, and the same happened to Tom, when Owen gripped his. They were both rubbing and panting and rubbing and panting and kissing in between.

As soon as Owen pushed Tom onto the bed, they were tearing at each other’s pants, ripping at them, pushing them down to their ankles. Pushing their shirts up. Not more. They didn’t care about more. They both just needed it. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t romantic, after all this time they just had to do it. Fast.

They jerked each other off as they kissed, bit, sucked on each other, all at once, their noses were in the way, the other was still not close enough, just not close enough, and fuck everything felt so fucking good.

They were gasping, they were moaning, they were groaning, yes, yes, yes, their hands were pumping, their hearts were racing until they both – God! Yes! “AAhh!” came, spurting their cum onto the other’s stomach.

…

God…

Finally…

Owen let the sparks of the afterglow glide through his veins, giving him that pure feeling of happiness.

His ears buzzed, his nose tickled while his head rested in the crook of Tom’s neck, and he could feel a slight hint of moisture on Tom’s skin that he immediately had to touch with his lips, had to lick with his tongue.

They moved a little so they could look at each other, both still breathing noticeably.

Tom’s face was flushed, his mouth half open from the panting.

How fucking beautiful Tom looked, Owen thought.

But he had to admit he wasn’t quite prepared to see what happened then. How Tom pulled his hand back from Owen’s cock and licked the spilled cum of his thumb like some goddamn predatory kitten.

And while Owen still had to swallow at this sight, Tom already leaned in to kiss him.

This time their kisses were soft and slow and sensual and it felt so fucking good that Owen thought he wanted to do this for the rest of his life.

Until Tom started whispering names in his ears, cuss names…

“Moron…” Tom nibbled at Owen’s bottom lip.

“Dickhead…” He licked on Owen’s collarbone.

“Wanker…” He nibbled at Owen’s ear lap.

“Twat…”

Okay…

Owen laughed. “Is that some kind of kink I need to know of?”

Tom looked at him provocatively, “Do you think you don’t deserve to be called any of these names?”

Owen immediately raised his hands defensively. “No, no… whatever you like to call me…”

And it occurred to him that he hadn’t said a word of apology yet-

“I’m sorry about the way I acted,” he began, “I … I thought…”

It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say. He just felt so stupid saying it out loud now. Everything he had thought was right, felt so wrong now.

So he just said, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

And because Tom just looked at him, he added, “I’ve got what some call bonding anxiety…” Once again he hated himself for being like that and whished he was different.

“What would you call it?” Tom asked calmly.

Owen shrugged his shoulders. “I sometimes do stupid things when someone corners me and expects something from me…”

Tom nodded lightly.

“Just because you humbled yourself to finally kiss me,” he started his response mockingly but then got serious again, “doesn’t mean I want to change you, doesn’t mean I want you to be someone else. I’m not committing you to do anything. And for the bond… “ his voice was very soft now, “I think we already have a bond.” He tilted his head and smiled at Owen. “So too late to back out anyway.”

Owen smiled back at him. It wasn’t that he didn’t know that but Tom was just so fucking endearing. So sweet and kind. But this reminded him of something else though.

“I didn’t want to miss this. I didn’t want to miss… you,” he said, and added to make it less heavy. “I didn’t want to have to go to the – I don’t know… AMTP, to the anonymous missing Tom people… I don’t want any of this. Sad telephone calls, pathetic FaceTime wanks… .”

Tom laughed. “How do you know my FaceTime wanks are pathetic? Wait until you see them! They are … high class!”

Owen laughed. “Yeah, I bet…”

“Okay… I promise you won’t miss me too bad” Tom smiled at him softly. “We just have to kiss as often and …fuck as often as possible” and he was adorable as always when he said the f- word, “..so that we’ll end up being glad to have a break from each other.”

But before Owen could say anything to this tempting offer to spend the next weeks kissing and fucking, a knock on the trailer door interrupted them.

“Tom, are you in there?”

“Shhhhiiiit,” Tom hastily grabbed the linen to wipe the cum off his belly, pulled up his pants, tugged his shirt in, jumped from the bed, ran his hands through his hair and opened the door.

“Hey Lea…” all smiling, all charming, all Tom.

“Hey… Fight training starts in 5 minutes!” Owen heard Lea say.

“Yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming. I just have to get…” and with this Tom walked back toward Owen on the bed, and while reaching for his script with one hand, he leaned over Owen, smiled mischievously at him and licked quickly but sensually into Owen’s mouth. Skipped back to the door, waved with his script, said “…this!”, jumped out of the trailer and let the door fall shut.

Wow.

Wow.

This lick had gotten straight to Owen’s groin.

And Owen got the feeling that maybe this kitten nickname for Tom wasn’t so bad after all. He even dared to say it fit him perfectly.

*

[simplyxdolxstyles]

Rockshock

 Okay so this is a smut. I know I said angst but I was in the moment lmao

Au where Grayson is a Rockstar

This is 1st pov btw.

Warning: Dirty smut. language.

I was at my my boyfriend’s, Grayson Dolan’s, show. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. I was jamming along to music just like everyone else backstage where I watched. God he looked so good. The sweat, his tousled hair, his voice. I was buzzing all over.

After the show came to a close and another reminder from Grayson and the band came backstage. He spotted me and instantly came in for a kiss.

“Another amazing show, baby, you killed it.” I say bringing my boyfriend into a tight embrace and planting kisses over his face.

“Glad you like it, babe.” He smiled and kissed the top of my head. God I needed him.

“Hey, you ok? You look a little preoccupied.” He says with a look of sympathy on his face.  

“I’m fine, thanks, Grayson.” I say quietly, avoiding gaze.

“Are you sure?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I’m sure, hun.”

“I don’t think so, I can tell somethings up.” He smirks.

“Huh?” I look at him confused.

 “Come with me.” He whispered huskily in my ear. He pulled me by the hand and dragged me somewhere. We end all med in the venue’s bathroom, doing god knows what in there. I gasped out when he slammed me against the wall of the grimy bathroom. His hair tickling me as he had his forehead so close to mine

“W-What are you—ahhh!” I cry out when Grayson is pressed up on me and grinds against my front.

“Were you feeling hot out there? Hmmm?” He grunts in my ear in a low voice I feel shivers go up. What was happening?

“Mhmm,” I moan. He nipped my earlobe before he sucked it into his mouth. I held onto his shoulders tight as I was sure going to fall.

“Are you wet for me?” He rasped in my ear. I could answer and let out another moan. He stopped his motions all together and went for my purse before removing my pants.

“Mmm, looks like someone is.” He groans. He rubbed my wet spot, creating a feeling so delicious.

“Ooh babe, you are soaked.”

“I need you, babe.” I’m barely able to get out. He looks surprised in a minute but licks his lips.

“Go ahead, baby.” He smirks. I whisk myself over to him, starting off with that damn camo jacket. I flung the jacket somewhere before I kissed his neck. A simple peck before I lifted his black t-shirt off as well. I take a minute to drink all of Grayson in before diving in and planting a kiss on his lips. He hummed from the impact and gathered me in his tattooed arms. I moan against his mouth when he bites my bottom lip asking for entrance, I grant him access and he slithers his wet, pink muscle inside.  The kiss was raw and pure lust. He pulls away and spreads his kisses down my neck then towards my collar bones, hands sneaking underneath to rub the soft skin of my stomach. I whimper and it took my will to not cum right there. I sadly push him away and stare deeply in his eyes, saying the first thing that came to mind which was.

“I want to taste you.” I state. Grayson licks his lips then bites it, looking me up and down.

“No one’s stopping you, go right ahead.” He says giving me my green light. I drop down to my knees and made my way over to the tall singer.  I work on his pants till I finally got that off then moving onto his boxers.

I could see his hard on and how it begged for release. I smirked to myself before I moved forward and mouthed his member through the material. He let out a sinful groan and grasped at my hair. The sounds that fell from Grayson’s mouth was getting me all hot and bothered, I wanted to quit the teasing as soon as possible, otherwise I was bound to burst. I looked up at him as I toyed with the hem of hid boxers, watching him as he bit his lip to supress any noise. After playing with the material a little while longer I pulled off his boxers and released what was begging to be released. His length sprung up and hit his stomach happy to see my presence. A feeling of warmth ran through me.

 “Mmm,” I moan at the sight. I knew he was big but damn, I wasn’t sure if this was going to fit. I took hold of his length and began pumping up and down. His mouth hangs open as he lets out a breathy groan. I took my chances and lean in to kitten lick the tip quickly. This made Grayson toss his head back and let out a whine of desperation. I continued to kitten lick before I engulfed just the tip into my mouth. I let out a moan as I had my lips wrapped around the head. I stared up at Grayson with big eyes as I slowly inched more of his shaft into my mouth. However, that didn’t seem enough as he soon pulled my head down his cock till it was lodged down my throat. I gagged and coughed but willed myself to relax and take it.

 “Ohhhh!” Grayson cried out. I pulled off a minute before taking him in my mouth again. The dream of being choked by his dick was finally happening!

“I bet you’ve been waiting all night, huh girly?” He taunted. My only response was a moan, a moan of sheer pleasure and lust. I bob my head up and down taking him further till he hit the back of my throat.

“Ahh…oh…” He moans out load and I mentally smile at myself. I pull back and spat out a thick wad of spit onto his length before I rubbed it on him. Grayson tossed his head back and let out a low rumbling sound. The sight was really quite a sight to see. He seemed to need more leverage and held onto my head as he began thrusting, slowly to get the feel before starting to go at hyper speed.

 “Holy fuck! That’s it, right there.” Grayson yelped as he bucked into my mouth. Spit was coming out as I was pretty much drooling at this point.

“I can’t hold it…ahhh…I’m cumming.” He rasps. Grayson shoots his load, sticky and full. My mouth fills up and I can’t swallow everything. Grayson shudders as he tries to stand up straight.

“That was good, baby.” He cooed at me before pulling me into a kiss. I moan into the kiss and grip at his hair. I pull away and gasp for breath no matter how much I didn’t want to. Kissing Grayson was all I needed.

“I want to feel you inside me, Grayson. I want you to take me right here right now.” I moan to him as I look into his eyes with an intense need.  He groans and pushes me against the wall, hand around my neck.  His face inched closer to mine, noses brushing against each other’s slightly.

“Is that what you want? Hmm? Want me to fuck you like the dirty girl you are?” He growls.

“Mhmm, fuck me hard.” I whine.

“Strip and get on your knees. Now!” He commands just as he did with girl earlier. I did as he said before I was naked and on my knees for him. Don’t get me wrong, I loved when Grayson as sweet and gentle, but damn when he got rough and demanding like this. It sent a whole new feeling throughout.

 “Don’t tease me, Grayson.” I whimper as I felt him run his tip against my folds teasingly. I could just feel the teasing smirk that he had on his cute face.

“Beg for it.” He whispers in my ear causing me to shiver.

“Please, fuck me, I want to feel you deep inside me. I want to feel nothing but this euphoric feeling. Send me into oblivion!” I cry out the last part. With that, he slams deep inside me. I almost toppled over if I didn’t keep a firm hold of myself.

“Ooooh!” I whimper out. He teared straight through my hymen. Mixed pain and pleasure flowed within me, the feeling so good.

“M-Move, please.” I stutter out.

Grayson starts to move slowly, slowly before gradually starting to pick up the pace.  His thrusts became deeper and harder so I was able to feel everything. Man, did it feel good.

“Mmm, oh god!” I cry out, the feeling lapping in my stomach.

“Shit, babe. “ Grayson groaned. He pulled me by my hair, pulling me to his chest. The angle of it and how deep he was inside was all too much for me. He closed a hand around my throat while the other groped and kneaded my breast.

“You like that? Huh? Tell me? Is this what turns you on?” He whispers in my ear as he nips my earlobe. I grip his hair for stability, otherwise I would have been all over the place. I mumble a small ‘yes’ in response. Anymore of this and I was surely gonna finish real soon.

“More…harder…f-faster. “ I manage to get out. I could feel Grayson practically smirk and did as he was told.

“Ohhh yes, shit, I can’t anymore.” He groans. The heat in my stomach was just about ready to uncoil.

“Fu-Grayson! I can’t hold it anymore. I’m go--” I cut myself off with a moan as I was finally releasing on his member. The feeling of my walls clenching his member was soon too much for him to handle and was cumming in hot, sporadic spurts inside me while letting out a couple curse words.

“W-We should definitely d-do..this more..often” I pant out. Grayson laughs at my reaction.

“Hell yeah!” Grayson esclaims whilst tossing me a cheeky wink.

“Good.” I giggle as I look at my feet suddenly finding them fascinating. Grayson took my chin with a finger and I was met with his sparkly, hazel eyes, a wide smile on his face.

“I love you.” He says.

“I love you too, G.” I reply.

[babygirlwolverine]

Tinsel and Tourists - Chapter Ten

Word Count: 1,811 (another long chapter, I’m sorry)

Dean’s POV

Link to ao3 / Link to masterpost

“For God’s sake, Dean. Snap out of it, lover boy. We’ve got a real case here that’s far more complicated than a salt-n-burn. Could you quit staring at your phone with heart-eyes for five freaking seconds so we can actually do our jobs,” Sam said, crossing his arms and snapping his computer open with a poignant look thrown Dean’s way.

“You’re the one who set me up with him in the first place,” Dean shot back. “You’ve been deliberately pushing us together, and just when I’m about to kiss him, you had to interrupt.”

“Dead body showed up and we needed to check it out. Pretty damn important if you ask me,” Sam said.

“You couldn’t have waited one extra minute? You clearly saw I was milliseconds away from finally kissing him-”

Sam loudly slammed a book down onto the table, effectively cutting Dean off. “Five times, Dean. Five times tonight so far you’ve given me crap for interrupting. I’m sick of hearing about it. Go out there and find Cas and kiss him right now or shut the hell up and get to work, unless you want whatever this is to take Cas and kill him, too.”

Damn. That was a sobering thought. If any monster even so much as looked at Cas, Dean swore he was going to lose it. He couldn’t stop his mind from screaming mine; a protective streak burning inside his gut and wrapping up into his chest.

Placing his phone back down on the table, Dean opened his own laptop and sighed. “How do we even begin to start narrowing down what this thing is? Is there any connection between Callie and Oliver?”

Sam pushed both of the files across the table towards Dean. “Other than the fact they were roughly around the same age, 28 and 29, that’s all I’ve got. Callie worked at the local theater. Oliver was a second grade teacher. They live in different neighborhoods and run in completely different social circles. Oliver is well known in town and is one of the most popular teachers at the elementary school. Callie was quieter. Both of them have helped out with work around the town in different ways- Oliver volunteers at the local animal shelter and Callie helped out at the elderly home. As far as I can tell, both of them are pictures of model citizens, just in different ways.”

Flipping open the files, Dean scanned the contents as he listened to Sam rattle off the big details. “So either they’re both hiding something and that’s why they were targeted, or they both really were squeaky clean and that’s why they were taken.”

“This whole town is filled with good people, Dean. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down for who could potentially be taken next. And we can’t exactly protect an entire town,” Sam said. “Something about it still feels sacrificial.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head down to the table before muttering, “We’ve talked about this, though. No signs of a God in town. No happy success stories or flourishing town.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, and all Dean could hear was the clacking of Sam’s keys as he typed. He let his eyes close, mind wandering back to Cas and their date tomorrow night. God, he was so freaking whipped it was unbelievable. How was he even supposed to tell Cas he’d never been ice skating in his entire life? He was going to look like a complete idiot falling on his ass on the ice tomorrow. And yet, despite the impending humiliation, Dean’s heart was hammering against his chest just at the mere thought of seeing Cas again.

He replayed the almost-kiss over again for probably the hundredth time that night, and he felt himself flush. Cas’ lips… God, even just the briefest brush had been enough to have Dean breathless. He’d been half tempted to walk out of the motel and find Cas when Sam suggested it, merely because he could barely get his brain to focus on anything except kissing Cas and how damn good those chapped lips would feel sliding against his own.

When his phone buzzed on the table, breaking his wandering thoughts, Dean all but hurled himself to pick it up, hoping it was another text from Cas. When he saw Bobby’s name, he scoffed and dropped the phone back down again; trying desperately to tamper down the disappointment that it wasn’t Cas.

“You’re like a lovesick teenager,” Sam muttered from the other side of the table.

“Shut up, no I’m not,” Dean snapped back instantly.

“Sure you’re not. That wasn’t a predictable reaction to thinking your crush has texted you only to find out it wasn’t him,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“Go screw yourself. I don’t have a crush. I’m not twelve.”

Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re so transparent you might as well be translucent, Dean.”

Pushing his chair back, Dean stood up. “I’m done having this conversation.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get a beer from the fridge because I’m way too sober to be dealing with your crap right now,” Dean muttered, storming off to the small fridge in the room.

Just as Dean got the cap off the beer, a thought flittered into his head. “You keep saying it feels sacrificial, right?”

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean approached, taking the beer that Dean held out to him as a peace offering. “Yeah, but as you keep pointing out, there’s no signs of a God.”

“Right, but what if the sacrifices aren’t being done by a God, but being done to appease a God? Something that was protecting and serving the Gods. Almost a middle man between the Gods and the people.”

Sam thought about it for a second before nodding. “We are days away from the winter solstice. And all the patterning shows the sacrifices leading right up to that time frame. And you said it when we left the scene, the way her body was cut up, it was precise; extremely ritualistic.”

“No blood left in her, either. And no obvious signs of vamps draining people around here. A blood offering?”

Sam hummed, before he started typing with renewed interest. “You might be onto something. I’ve got a couple theories. Why don’t you put a call out to Bobby to see if he knows anything, and I’ll hit the lore.”

“Got it,” Dean said, grabbing his phone and taking his beer with him as he stepped outside to call Bobby. After explaining everything that was happening with the case and the details they’d picked up so far, Bobby promised he’d do some research of his own and call if he found anything useful.

By the time he’d finished his call with Bobby, Dean had finished his beer and he was pleasantly warm inside despite the cold wind.

In the morning, he’d blame it on the alcohol, which was a weak excuse when he’d only had the one beer. And yet, after he hung up with Bobby, his finger moved to hover over Cas’ contact. And before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed call.

The second the dialing tone rang in his ear, Dean panicked and went to hang up, but Cas answered on the second ring.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart instantly kicked up in his chest, and he felt the air in his lungs stutter at just hearing Cas’ voice through the phone.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said.

“Did something happen? Is there- has there been another death?”

Dean shook his head, kicking a small bank of snow as he began to walk around the motel. “No. No, I just- I uh, I missed you.”

Shit. As soon as the words came out, Dean winced. What was wrong with him? He really was a lovesick teenager. One date and a botched first kiss and Dean was so smitten he could barely go five seconds without thinking about Cas. Just hearing Cas’ voice made Dean yearn, and the words had slipped out without his control. And yet, he meant them. Even the case was barely keeping his attention right now. He’d already began an internal countdown to their date tomorrow night, which was pathetic and desperate and yet he couldn’t stop himself.

“I’ve kept my phone with me all night since you texted me,” Cas said quietly, before he laughed softly.

Oh God. Was Cas waiting by the phone for him? Jesus. Why was that so cute that it made Dean’s chest ache?

“My witty humor just so good that you were waiting for more?” Dean said, automatically switching to teasing.

“Something like that,” Cas replied, and Dean could almost feel his smile through the phone.

“I um- I have absolutely no idea how to ice skate, by the way,” Dean admitted, reaching up to snap an icicle off the roof just to keep his hands busy.

“You’ve never ice skated before?” Cas asked, shock bouncing down the phone.

“Nope, never.”

“I’ll teach you,” Cas said earnestly.

“Only if you promise not to let me fall on my ass,” Dean said with a laugh.

“I promise I won’t take my hands off of you,” Cas replied instantly, before the weight of his words seemed to settle in the air. Dean swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting on itself at the thought of Cas’ hands lingering on him.

“And what if I can’t keep my hands to myself?” Dean said, words raw and yet filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name.

“Is that a promise, Dean?” Cas asked, voice slipping an octave lower; sending a thrill down Dean’s spine.

“God, yes,” Dean found himself saying, words ripped from his throat as he was overcome with the urge to grab Cas right now and kiss him. “Swear to God, if you don’t bring mistletoe-”

Cas laughed and the sound made Dean’s chest feel tight. “As long as you don’t leave me standing underneath it alone again.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Dean said. Just as he was about to say something else, his phone buzzed in his hand and a text from Sam flickered across the screen. Time to get back to work. “Listen, Cas, I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“7 o’clock, Dean. Don’t you dare be late,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean replied, before handing up; heart racing from the call and his hands sweaty just from flirting with Cas again.

As he made his way back to the room, his eyes flickered to an oak tree near the motel; a clump of mistletoe hanging from one of the branches. Reaching up, Dean snagged a few pieces, smiling to himself as he slipped them into his pocket. Just a little bit of extra insurance to make sure he got that kiss with Cas tomorrow.