#god this took way longer than i thought it would

[waltzing-rats]

They are going to a sleepover :)

[the-owl-tree]

also figured out the clan names i wanted to use so! we got mustangclan, serpentclan (might change), coyoteclan, boarclan (thank you bonefall), cardinalclan and tempestclan.

some light notes on each, might do a more detailed post later-

some general worldbuilding notes:

do not ask me how this biome functions

the cats cook, prepare food, and know how to start fire.

subranks like courier, head of patrols, head of hunting, and so on exist. their power and relevancy varies within each clan. the deputy/deputies are in charge of managing them.

not all clans have the same positions and wording.

no starclan, these cats worship a pantheon of gods and pray to the appropriate god for advice. the gods have different names and appearances depending on which clan you go to, not writing them out because i haven't figured out every name yet lol

mustangclan

leader: bearstar; deputy: duskclaw; medic(s): fogstep and foxtrot

semi-nomadic, have a few different camps scattered around the map they travel to depending on their needs.

because their camps are so scattered, they often have pre-arranged travel paths through other clans territories. in the past, they'd just brute force their way through though, with different leadership, have begun to put more value in negotiations.

heavy emphasis on might makes right, though that's begun to change. lots of value in conquest, combat, and defending one's honor through force.

names often reflect this with aggressive predators and suffixes like -claw, -strike, -bite being common.

the clan is your family, lineage and blood relations are downplayed in favor of serving one's clan.

unfortunately for bearstar, his father was the last leader...and his own daughter won the trial for deputy. no one would outright accuse such a popular leader of nepotism and spitting on their values...at least not to his face.

leader and deputy are decided through combat, i like the idea that there's a makeshift "coliseum" that all the clans can use to settle minor disputes.

you can challenge the leader and deputy for their position at any time, you just have to win through battle.

outsiders can enter if they prove they're strong enough.

mustangclan cats are blunt to the point of coming across as rude and have a dark sense of humor, which can often rub other clan cats the wrong way.

strongest ally is boarclan, whom they fought alongside in a moon's old war against coyoteclan (pre-war, who were actually three small clans in a coalition!) and cardinalclan.

most of the cats here are followers of the god of war and glory, though followers of the god of the hunt and harvest are common (though they are a popular god in all clans)

serpentclan

leader: troutstar; deputies: saugerleap & pikesnap; physician: turtlestep

stationary, reside in one massive camp that's split into three sections: exterior where the warriors sleep, middle section where the nursery, elders, and physician's den lies, and the central section where the leader, deputies, and other leaderkin stay.

essentially a hereditary monarchy, the leader here is the one that speaks with the gods. this keeps their power absolute, the physician in serpentclan is purely to help heal.

some leader lineages have placed their children in the physician position, just to maximize their power over the clan. troutstar didn't get that, had two sons with no interest in learning medicine.

family lines often have a naming theme. troutstar's lineage uses fish names.

they try to completely avoid war, troutstar has established a long history of lengthy negotiations to avoid combat (saugerleap likes to joke his father has won negotiation wars by boring his enemies to tears).

can come across as snooty and arrogant to the other clans, they find the other clans history of war and bloodshed to be, not repulsive, but almost like...embarrassing?

they don't get along with mustangclan and boarclan cats lol

completely isolated during past wars.

outsiders are allowed to join, but most are barred from every ascending to the position of leadership or even become a physician.

one of the clans that practices betrothals, though it's most used for cross-clan negotiations. saugerleap and duskclaw were briefly engaged to cement a travel path for boarclan through serpentclan territory, though that fell through after saugerleap got discovered with his boarclan boyfriend.

lots of followers of the god of water here, thanks to troutstar's long reign; also lots of followers of the god of art.

coyoteclan

leader: oxeyestar; advisor(s): goosehop, duckstrut, grousetail; saint: icesnap

once three small clans - lupineclan, roseclan, yarrowclan - that worked in a coalition; a past war against stallionclan devastated them as they were forced into one cohesive unnamed clan to better control them. when the war ended, stallionclan pulled out from this group, leaving a massive power vacuum that a new player, tempestclan, took notice of.

this ended with them putting a leader of their choosing into this new clan, renaming them coyoteclan for their cleverness and resourcefulness to survive. this move solidified the alliance between the two groups...an alliance which slowly has begun to degrade as more of the warriors recognize just how much control tempestclan assumed.

the advisors and the saint of coyoteclan are all sent from tempestclan, feeding information back to tempestclan and swaying oxeyestar's decisions.

oxeyetail was no special warrior when picked, some naive and arrogant enough to believe he was so special that the god tempestclan worships picked him out of everyone. it's gone to his head quite a bit.

leaders are picked by the advisors of the clan, though they do a bit of fog and lights to try and make it more legitimate, as if the leader really has been handpicked by a god.

anyone can join, not many want to unfortunately.

it's not uncommon for coyoteclan to skip gatherings, there's a lot of resentment. when they do go, they can come across as prickly and quick to judge. but their sharp wit can make them good conversation partners.

their closest ally is tempestclan.

while tempestclan's influence has forced a lot of them to believe in their sole god, followers of the god of the sun and day still take up the majority in coyoteclan. other popular gods are the god of luck and the god of the hunt and harvest.

boarclan

leader(s): dawnstar & sandstar; deputies: nightstride, darkwater, dewleaf, lifeseeker; healer(s): raindrop, jaycall

a big clan with five different camps, set up around their territory where they often shuffle around depending on what they need. one's probably utilized completely for the healers, acting as both a herb garden and a quarantine zone.

the non-healer camps are run by the four deputies while the leaders often circulate around each week to make sure everything is alright.

similar to mustangclan, boarclan has a big culture around combat. though, it's more considered a performance akin to art rather than a way of life. showing off your strength is encouraged.

leadership is done the more traditional canon wc style, picked based on merit. however, you can absolutely challenge a deputy, healer, and leader if you'd like. it's a big event though, everyone's getting their roasted duck legs to watch a fight.

while hereditary leadership lineages aren't law enforced, they aren't discouraged. dawnstar and sandstar are mates, with their deputies and one of their healers (jaycall) being their kittens.

two leaders only, any more is demanding too much from the gods. they used to have more, but it resulted in a civil war that killed all four of the original leaders. two makes sure there is balance.

a very boisterous and loud group, play fighting is common and loud tales of glory and survival are often told at night around a fire.

for that reason they can come off across as abrasive, loud, and disruptive. they aren't trying to be, but not a lot of boarclan cats realize how loud they are.

they used to be a closed clan, though they've opened up somewhat to idea of cats joining.

their closest ally is mustangclan but dawnstar and sandstar has been working to try and repair relationships with cardinalclan.

a majority of boarclan cats are followers of the god of beasts.

cardinalclan

king: swiftstar; next-in-line: cranegaze; magistrates: cootwaddle, crowfoot, piperstreak, tattlertail, gullcry; cleric: loonback, cormorantpelt, pelicanjaw

a very hierarchical clan, their hierarchy extends to warriors themselves though i'm still teasing out the details.

forest clan, their camp hidden away. i'm still figuring out the details, i think they operate similar to serpentclan's camp just with more layers to reflect their hierarchy.

a hereditary leadership system, swiftstar is a long line of leaders groomed from birth to inherit the throne. his sister cranegaze is next-in-line, with their youngest sister, mallardsong, being the one to inherit afterwards.

magistrates act as the leader's advisors, the next-in-lines mentors, and enforcers of the leader's rulings. despite not inheriting the throne, they command a massive amount of respect from the clan and hold a lot of sway, with some forming their own unofficial courts of cats they can rely on to get things done.

betrothals are common in the "noble" bloodline of cardinclan, with swiftstar, cranegaze, and mallardsong's parents' mateship having been prearranged.

their parents were killed in a raid organized by the previous leaders of boarclan in a bid to control a very lush piece of territory. the devastation of losing their king and queen increased the antagonism towards boarclan tenfold.

swiftstar entertaining dawnstar and sandstar's pleas for peace is wildly unpopular, especially among his own magistrates.

cardinclan only names their cats after birds, yes this will probably come to bite me in the ass if I ever try and do a full allegiance.

i'd like the swiftstar line to have some sort of surname or title? still mulling it over.

a big artsy culture encouraged by the ruling cats, portraits of the king, of the clan in its prime, and of the god of art are very popular. cats of cardinclan also love to decorate themselves for gatherings and just general special events, smearing mushed up berries on their fur and rolling in flowers.

they used to have a strong alliance with the three clans that once made up coyoteclan, but tempestclan's control has withered that alliance away.

tempestclan

leader (referred to as the "father" of tempestclan): tempeststar; saints: martinbounce, wolverinesnarl, cariboucall, lynxstrike, cougarpelt, marmotscreech, beaversnap, pikapounce

isolated in a mountain range, the harsh weather and conditions to travel to this clan has kept them from being invaded by others for a long, long time. their camp resides in an abandoned village with an old church being where camp meetings are called.

an intensely religious clan, born around the idea there is one singular god whom they must devote themselves to entirely. they are patriarchal in nature, mostly as a way to better control the numbers of their clan.

this extends down to sometimes arranging mateships for the cats of tempestclan, blightspirit's parents was an arranged mateship between cariboucall and sheepstomp, a loner who was "rescued" by tempestclan after nearly freezing to death and was coerced into joining them. yes, it's as horrific as it sounds.

saints are often from a long lineage, though they dress it up with the idea they have been picked by their god. their leader, who when ascending to leadership is always renamed to tempeststar, is mostly just a figurehead to vocalize the saints orders. an ultimate figure of authority for the cats to follow. the current tempeststar's old name was snowdancer, he misses his old name and his close friends refer to him as 'snowy' in private.

blightspirit was being trained to take over his father's position, decided to get rid of any specific healer position. saints now handle that to maximize their control and authority over the clan.

this intense isolationism in both their policies and their territory has resulted in their clan numbers dwindling, taking a heavy toll when an exiled cat, stripped of her full name and just referred to as 'wolf', took some of her followers with her in exile.

so when mustangclan left a group with a big ol power vacuum in a region with prey, herbs, and lots of kittens to bring up the mountains...the saints decided the kindest thing to do would be to lend their aid, in exchange for herbs, resources, and some apprentices. it's only fair after all they've done for coyoteclan, don't you think?

kind of a miserable place to live, either with those unable to leave or those who genuinely believe in the religion pushed by the saints.

reserved, tired, and distrustful of strangers, most of the other clans barely know what tempestclan is like. they never come to gatherings and none, besides coyoteclan, have gotten into talks with them.

closest alliance is coyoteclan, whom they essentially rule from within and take advantage of.

they pray to a different god from those in the pantheon, choosing one singular god of cats that rules absolute.

[billwasnot]

NOTHING WRONG

Yeah so I loved how this scene was animated

[a-caterpillars-world]

❤ 2 ships passing in the night, reunited at the docks 💚

[hexcitrine]

randomly looked at this account to update my age and holy shit it's been a while since i posted here..........i have a small pile of art i have yet to post but hbhbshdbshbd too lazy

[akai-anna]

So I already asked this before, but here I am asking you to do it again cause I honestly really enjoy reading about how you view each of the relationships in decto. So if it's not too much to ask will you do a part 3 just rambling about other relationships in decto. Also I'm glad my last ask made you that happy, and don't worry take as long as you like there's no rush to make them.

Anon-san. Dear. Darling. You are truly a blessing, a pure source of joy, a beauty in this measly existence we call a life. I would have never thought you'd come back for more rambling. Just. Thank you. So much.

And I'm happy you enjoyed my previous ramblings, and I hope you will enjoy this one too.

Notes, as always:

as in the previous asks relating to the ship opinion bingo, i interpret relationships in the broadest possible sense

i check everything that makes sense to me, even if they seem contradictory; i view them applied to different situations/universes/possibilities

*rolls up sleeves* Ok, now buckle up.

I. Akai Shuuichi/Okiya Subaru - Kudou Shinichi/Edogawa Conan (and The Kudous)

The Silver Bullet Duo (and the Parents Partners In Crime)

They just... have such a fascinating dynamic.

Akai, first learning about this lil kiddo through investigating Vermouth (Cool Guy) and as they started interacting, treating this boy as an equal despite him (seemingly) being a child. The fact he is openly impressed by Conan/Shinichi ("You always amaze us, boy."); I cannot put into words how important it is to me that Akai respects this gremlin child. (ONE OF thE BESt INVEstigAtoRS IN JAPAN HE SAID!!!!) Shinichi Being all sus of the guy at first, only to find a great mind in him, an amazing scheming partner, someone he can trust to protect his friend. They are not only on the the same wavelength (not even being in the same place) but make a very effective as a team; the sheer compatibility.

But also their actual first meeting BEING: SHINICHI BASICALLY CALLING AKAI SHUUICHI A CLOWN. INCREDIBLE.

And also, Akai being one of the precious few who knows about this lil gremlins identity. It's so important to me; as someone who dearly wants and aches for Shinichi to share his identity with at least a few other people, I cherish all individuals who are aware of his true identity. Not to mention, that the identity reveal to Akai was one of the most hilarious things I have ever witnessed. (Shinichi literally outing himself because he is too comfortable, too at ease in his own home and around these people, and distracted by Ran and solving the mystery, he forgets to be cautious. THIS FCKIN CHILD I LOVE HIM.)

And Akai constantly hinting at his real identity gets me so bad too. They are so precious to me.

And then there is the whole Akai-Yukiko & Yuusaku dynamic too. He literally became part of this oddball of a family? (YUKIKO tAUGHt HIM to COOK I CANNOt???) FITTING IN WITH THEM SO EFFORTLESSLY. I LOVE THEM.

⊱✿⊰

II. Agasa Hiroshi - Kudou Shinichi/Edogawa Conan - Miyano Shiho/Haibara Ai (- Detective Boys Trio)

Found Family: "Sometimes a family is 1 middle-aged man, 2 fake and 3 real elementary students" as I like to say.

Not many scenes to share here (tho I will definitely collect them in my newest reread session) because I don't have the energy to look for them. BUT.

Agasa Hiroshi is a Good Man. He doesn't have to invent all that stuff for Shinichi BUT HE DOES. He doesn't have to help this lil gremlin out BUT HE STILL DOES. All the times he just drove him around, all the times he allowed himself to be used (with no advance notice which he keeps ASKING SHINICHI FOR, TO JUST LET HIM KNOW) as a way to solve a crime; EVERYTHING HE DOES, DESPITE KNOWING HOW DANGEROUS IT IS. The way he only helped Yukiko and Yuusaku with the mad plan (because IT IS MAD; ODDBALLS) of "kidnapping Edogawa Conan" because he thought it would help drive the point home, of how dangerous this whole business is. Agasa Hiroshi just wants what might be best and safest for Shinichi. Just being there for him, and if he cannot he lets others, who can, know (Yuusaku and Yukiko in the above scene, Heiji in desperate revival, and so on). He cares.

On the other side, Shinichi might seem like, he doesn't appreciate Prof Agasa much at first glance (his constant comments about Agasa creating junk, says the one who uses his inventions, HYPOCRITE), but god, he goes BALLISTIC WHEN IT COUNTS. (Kidnapping case, just to mention one off the top of my head.) Shinichi literally grew up with this weird adult figure around, he is like family to him, and he cares. Tons. He trusts Agasa Hiroshi, literally, with his life.

Moving on: another point of Prof being a really good man. The way he is with the kids. He literally goes out of his way, to take them out to places, spend time with them. Be it camping, or eating out, or invent stuff for them, cooking for them, or just getting a cake to eat together... He got attached to these kids (just like Shinichi himself) as they spent more and more time together, and cares a great deal about them. And the kids grew fond of him too, despite all the little comments and teasing. (Or as I see it: he is an adult figure to them that they are comfortable around, and are not afraid to say what they think.)

As for Ai. Exhibit C of Agasa Hiroshi being a really good, kind-hearted person.

Agasa Hiroshi picked up a girl that brings even more danger with her mere presence, and at this point she is not trustworthy. Who knows what she might do? But he took her in anyways. (Without talking to Shinichi too, which led to some Emotions and Yelling.) And as time went on, this girl, who constantly lives in fear of being discovered (fearing so much, that she even tries to let herself die, and considers leaving everyone behind to protect them), slowly crawls out of her shell, to just be a person. Ai and Agasa come to care about each other too, so deeply; there is no blood-relation between them, yet there is such a strong familial bond between the two. (People mistaking them as father and daughter!)

They are a weird lil family unit, your honour, and I care about them so. So. SO MUCH.

⊱✿⊰

III. Mouri Kogorou - Kudou Shinichi/Edogawa Conan - Mouri Ran

The Mouri Family Unit

I just love them. God. I do.

I love how Shinichi got integrated into Kogorou and Ran's everyday life (be it cleaning, or just checking he's there and didn't run off again LOL). I love the rare moments of Kogorou actually being parental, be it to the lil gremlin or Ran. (HE LOVES BOTH OF THEM YOUR HONOUR!!!

I adore the fact that they watch stuff together, and discuss it, I find it really sweet (and funny). Also the fact that they eat together. Eating together with loved ones is a very important point in my own life, and it's a really... "intimate" is not quite the word I'm looking for but... I guess a bonding thing. Something meaningful. And these 3 definitely do it most days. The way they are so comfortable around each other, and everyone has their own lil space at the table. I really adore the thought of Shinichi getting so used to the lil routines and bustle of the Mouri Household, that after he turns back, he'll miss it. Especially, how he was living alone for years before the Conanification, without his parents; the Mouris are such a strong contrast against that. (Post-Conan Shinichi, that moves back to the Kudou House, and finds it too big and quiet and lonely, just going over to Agasa's and the Mouris' all the time to be around his loved ones. Him spending most of his time at their places, so much, his stuff is slowly moved into both places. And No One says a thing about it, it just happens, and they all let it happen. Please. I'm WEAK.)

I also love to see them in various combinations: Ran-Shinichi teaming up against Occhan, but also Ran and Kogorou constantly being "WHERE IS THE CHILD" in their own ways, and Shinichi and Kogorou team up too (like the time they tailed Ran, or when Ran told them Araide will be in the play too, HAHA). Each is so very delightful for their own reasons.

Thank you so much for asking me (AGAIN!!!!) to talk about relationships, it means a lot tome, and I truly hope you enjoyed reading these! May you have a blessed day, darling.

[sv3t1ana]

Thinking about Husband!Sukuna who just lets you do whatever the fuck you want now.

There was a time when he protested. A time when he had pride, pride in being a man, in being a fearsome king, commanding respect wherever he went.

But you?

You were relentless. So utterly, absurdly relentless that at some point, he just stopped fighting it.

He had never been a man of many words, and marriage hadn’t changed that. It was only a week ago that he sat comfortably on his throne, heavy head resting in his palm as he drifted off to sleep, until he was interrupted by the sudden weight (or loss?) on his chest.

A lesser man would have panicked, but your husband? No. He merely took a long inhale, an even longer exhale, and cracked one eye open to find your tiny, mischievous hands cupping his pecs like a scientist.

“They don’t really move like mine,” you mused, experimentally bouncing the firm muscle in your grasp.

He didn’t know if the subject of this experiment was his breaking point or whatever nonsense idea had wormed its way into your head this time.

Your expression was serious, too serious, as you moved in front of him, gripping the hem of his robe as if a scholar prepped for a dissertation.

“May I remove this?”

His eyes, half-lidded with the dull exhaustion that only centuries of being a king could bring, slowly trailed to meet yours. His lips pressed into a flat line.

You took his silence as consent.

And soon enough, his shirt was discarded, leaving him bare from the waist up as you squinted in intense concentration, leaning in close to his chest.

It was pathetic, really. The size difference. Your husband was a mountain of a man, yes, his frame large enough to dwarf yours entirely. And yet, there you were, fingers struggling to span across his tits as you earnestly attempted to jiggle them, as if you could replicate your own softness on his ironclad frame.

At one point, you had both of his pecs squished together, testing them like some critical judge at a livestock competition.

“Wow, you’re a lot different than me.”

Oh, his lovely wife. His lovely wife, who was genuinely comparing her milk-producing breasts to those of a war-hardened king.

Oh, the patience he had for you.

And despite the sheer disrespect you continually brought upon the honor of Sukuna, the King, the Conqueror, the Lord of Curses…

He still let you.

And it never stopped.

Because right now, right this very moment, he was balls-deep inside you, your knees pinned to your chest as he fucked you senseless, guttural moans echoing in the grand chamber as he pounded into your dripping cunt.

The nights the lord would bed his wife was always the same, multiple orgasms, a sore throat, bruises painting your skin like a lover’s signature, and the brutal satisfaction of a man who knew he could ruin you.

There couldn’t have been a worse time, a worse thought, and for the first time in his life, Sukuna wished, prayed, for something to be different about his wife.

“W-wait, ‘Kuna- fuck- wait-!”

Because he never wanted you in pain, never wanted you to feel anything but pleasure despite the sixth climax of the night barreling toward him, he reluctantly halted.

Oh, may the lords above grant him the strength.

Because you, thoroughly fucked out, hair knotted, sweat glistening across your body, brought your trembling hands forward,

and groped his fucking tits.

Like he was some toy for you to hold onto.

“Okay, continue.”

He stilled. In shock? In horror? In spiritual agony?

Slowly, he tried to thwart at your hands, momentarily lifting one from under your knee, but-

“No, I said continue.”

That’s right. Your wish was his command.

So he continued. And every time his cock rammed deep into your walls, every time you moaned so sinfully, your little hands squeezed tighter.

It was almost comical, your soft, delicate fingers clutching at his immovable chest as if this was your god-given right.

With a grunt, he muttered, “Why must you do this?” His brows furrowed, thrusts becoming punishing.

Through your breathless whimpers, you somehow managed, “Ngh- I just- oh, god- like them.”

His cock twitched at your honesty.

His breasts flexing in tandem.

And when your shaking fingers dared to pinch his nipple…

Oh, that was when the real fun began.

“Fuck, don’t- fuck-” He spat through gritted teeth.

Neither of you could ignore the way his back arched the tiniest bit, the way his thrusts faltered for a split second as your fingers toyed with him.

You were too far gone to form coherent sentences, let alone fucking laugh, but your lips curled in amusement, jaw slack as the wet pat-pat-pat of his cock slamming into you filled the air.

“You think this shit is funny?”

His hold on you shifted. With inhuman ease, he lifted your legs, pressing them together straight up in the air, holding your feet in a single massive hand while his other gripped your thigh in a vice.

The new position devastating.

His thick cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you, punching deep into your cunt, the head kissing your cervix with every pump.

It was enough to wreck you, your body shuddering as your next orgasm tore through you like divine wrath.

And Sukuna, normally composed and always in control, was panting.

As you both lay side by side afterward, spent and breathless, a singular, intrusive thought carved its way into your little head.

“...Can I be big spoon tonight?”

He didn’t respond, simply sighing and rolling onto his side. Letting you attempt to wrap your arms around his impossibly broad back.

Oh, his lovely, sweet wife.

Your hand reached down, fingers splaying, grabbing a handful of his ass.

A slow, agonizing inhale.

Then a measured, exasperated exhale.

“...No more tonight. Please.”

You couldn’t see his face, your own buried between his shoulder blades.

But maybe, juuust maybe, someone, somewhere, could say there was the barest twitch of a smile on his lips.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst) chapter two┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that.

Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right.

You pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing.

You weren’t stupid.

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off.

Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with.

Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

And then you heard hers.

No fucking way.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of burning humiliation straight through your chest.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap.

What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help, not even a little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on in two fucking months. That’s all it had taken for him to replace you, to be done with you.

He was over you, just like that.

After everything you’d been through together, all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe, it was coming out too fast, shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink. But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you couldn't stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement.

Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

Without a single warning, not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. None of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking.

“About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name. Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart.

Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret. Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them.

You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle.

You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse.

“Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew, they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

With someone else.

You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself, as if your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents, your sister.

Gone, just like that.

Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

You'd been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss, he understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other, it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it?

Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better, how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside.

So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say.

It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else, who was lost and broken underneath all the anger.

And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could.

Not Sofia. Not anyone.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much, that you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long. Almost two months.

No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke. You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door.

"Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head.

“I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, his hands up, trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge.

"You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do?

You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking.

"He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded, you didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place.

Before he could say anything else, you made your move, pushing past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess. Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys, managing to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock.

Fucking idiot.

His arms were stretched out wide, as if he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield.

“Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt.

You weren’t bluffing, you were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night.

“Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually.

As if he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second.

A moment too long, amoment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this, hated that you were crying, that you’d let yourself get to this point.

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much.

Too much.

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, all the nights you’d spent together, him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own.

You’d always fit together perfectly.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien.

You didn’t belong here.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you.

They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your, she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t bother looking at her, all you wanted was to pay for that shit and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something.

For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster.

“Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends or for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now.

You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did.

You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it. Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests.

How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out.

Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Your body was probably fucked up from all the stress. Perhaps your period was late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore, not after all of this, especially not over Rafe or your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you. Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it.

Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve.

The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience.

Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit. Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind.

You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass, but instead, you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him.

You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would, cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle.

Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight, no comfort to be found.

Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white or in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

You'd wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests, you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired.

You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep.

That’s what you needed, a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb

@rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2 @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols

@icaqttt

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ok so i saw a tweet that made me feral, so here i am with a request

It was based on a still from Thunderbolts* with Bucky in the kitchen wearing the tank top, the person said he looked like a dad waiting for the baby bottles to sterilise,,,, so true

I was thinking about #that bucky joining reader in the kitchen after dinner and doing it for the first time after having their baby 😵‍💫

so sorry it’s taken me way longer to get to than planned. thanks for requesting 💌

EIGHT WEEKS. 18+

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc. 1407 warnings. 18+ only! quickie in the kitchen, pinv (but not much smut, my apologies. ive written so much porn lately i fear my brain may explode) mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

For the last near eight weeks, shitty diapers, vomit and fatigue had been all you and Bucky had known. The excessively late nights and nipple pain all being traced back to the sweet, beautiful tyrant of a daughter that you recently welcomed into the world.

And while you were both worse for wear and stretched incredibly thin with the new change of dynamics in the household, you wouldn’t have it any other way — motherhood a great look on you and fatherhood just as good a look on your lover. 

Like anything, it all took some getting used to: the stress, running on minimal sleep, intense blinding irritation, but it was all made easier with the great support system you call a husband. All of his attention and time being divided between his two girls. And with time, you began to feel like your old self again.

By now, it was late and it was like you were each too tired to sleep, each of you barely functioning as you work through the household jobs. 

Bucky’s at the kitchen counter, his time split between bottle sterilisation and the dishes, while you’re at the sofa’s, organising and piling the excessive amounts of baby grows and other laundry. Each of you doing jobs to lighten the giant load.

You stack the clean laundry in the basket and set it on your hip, using your free hand to drag the laundry hamper with you as you walk. You set it in your shared bedroom and meet Bucky back in the kitchen.

You stand beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing as if to soak up the calm quiet. He presses a kiss to your temple and lays the side of his head atop yours, giving you a moment of attention while he focuses on the tasks at hand: carefully attaching bottles with lids so as not to contaminate the sterile vessel.

You wrap your arm around his back, snuggling into his side as you watch him. Whoever would have thought that the hands that were made for death and destruction could now be preparing bottles for your baby in a few rooms over. 

“Good news about the doctors today, huh?” 

He pauses and lifts his head from yours. So you turn and see his expression confused, brows furrowing.

“What news?” he asks, utterly perplexed.

“I texted you this morning,” you match his befuddled tone and reach into your robe pocket for your phone. “The doctor gave me the all clear. I told you about it as soon as I found out…” you mindlessly reiterate, eyes then beginning to narrow as you look at your screen. “Oh my god,” you whisper, and shake your head. “I never send it.”

“Is it bad news?” he questions, eyes softening slightly as they meet yours.

“God no, well… depends how you look at it,” you smile and turn your phone, showing him the screen.

He stills as he reads your unsent text, brows continuing to furrow. “What is that? Is that an eggplant?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why is it there?”

“It’s supposed to be sexy,” you playfully frown.

“Sexy?”

“Yeah,” you nod, pointing to the emoji beside the eggplant one. “See, the peach.”

“I don’t understand,” his head shakes, eyes flickering between you and your phone.

You inhale and close your eyes. “Okay, alright,” you focus on him. “I saw my doctor today, and she gave me the all clear…” you pause, watching the connections slowly being made in his tired blue eyes.

“So we can have sex?”

“So we can have sex,” you repeat, mirroring his tone and expression. 

Part of you questioned whether you should wait until the weekend, wait until you’ve dropped your daughter off with your family. It had been a long time since you’ve been properly fulfilled by your husband, everything but full penetrative sex to suffice during your weeks of healing. 

So this was quite the confliction.

You give it a moment's thought and meet his eyes again.  “Are you tired?” you ask.

“Are you?” he deflects and returns the question, wanting to hear what you have to say before he answers for himself.

“I mean…” you shrug your shoulders. “Yeah, very. But… a quickie can’t hurt, right?”

“Who doesn’t love a quickie?” 

“Exactly,” you smile and turn so your back is against the counter. You lift yourself up onto it, sitting on the edge with your feet dangling down.

He moves to stand between your knees and settles his hands beside yours. “And then this weekend…” he pauses and itches forward, lips ghosting yours briefly. “I can take you up to the lake…” he presses a slow lengthy kiss to your lips.

“Yeah…” you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him again. “What else?”

He pretends to give it some thought but the plan was already extensively created in his head. “I can make us some dinner,” he begins to list and reaches for the bow of your robe, tugging on it gently. “We can go for a walk around the woods, maybe collect some firewood. Sit on the deck and watch the sun go down.”

You drop your hands from around his neck and move to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, fingers mindlessly slipping into the top. You reach down the front and begin palming over his cock, eyes focused on his as you listen.

“Mhm-hm,” you prompt, eager to hear more.

“Well,” he pauses and reaches into the elastic of your underwear. “We can sit in the cabin, maybe have some wine by the fire…” he starts, voice drawing to a whisper, speech halting when he leans in to kiss you again. But he doesn’t continue on with his plan. Instead he grows quiet, quite like he was wanting to reserve the more intimate moments for a surprise. 

And so he slips your underwear down your thighs, the lifting of your ass from the counter aiding the removal. He watches the fabric drag across your skin, the material grazing flesh until it gets caught between your knees. You feel the resistance and lift a knee, letting the underwear fall from one leg and down the length of the other.

The hand you had tucked down the front of his boxers moves back up to the waistband, fingers resuming their prior finnicking into the elastic. You drop your hand from around his neck and join the one at the top of his pyjama bottoms — both of them hastily yanking on the fabric. 

Bucky helps, moving his hands from your underwear to his own. He gives both garments a heavy tug, each catching around the swell of his thighs — revealing just enough of himself as required.

He spits into his palm and smears it messily over his dick. You both watch the lewd display between you, eyes transfixed on the slight twitching of him, cock growing hard under his touch. 

Guiding himself closer he smacks his head against your cunt. The little slaps an attempt to speeden up his erection. 

He holds himself within his left, metal hand and spits once again into the palm of his other, only this time he smears it over your pussy — a makeshift lube saving you both a trip to the bedroom. 

Lining up with you, he teases at your entrance briefly, quite like he was refamiliarising you with the contact of his cock and himself with your cunt once again. He sinks into you slowly and both of your faces contort, the feeling of sheer, unadulterated, lustrous bliss growing with each passing inch.

Your arms wrap around him as if you’re in dire need of his touch, your hands squeezing tightly around his bank. And with the close contact, his forehead falls to press against yours, bodies close as you both delve into the bliss of what got you your daughter in the first place. 

Although this brief, fatigued session was about to reopen a massive can of worms for your sex life, it was clear that this time it may have to be cut short — the long awaited sensations could not quite be replicated by one to the other meant things tonight were bound to end prematurely. 

And so this little session might just have to serve as an appetiser, a taster for the weekend to come when you both finally get around to rekindling things properly in the bedroom.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, rough sex, choking, expensive sex worker!reader, sorta toxic relationship, age-gap

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the ruthless kingpin, owner of the city's most high-end escort business…

The one who took you in when you were still only a sorry street wretch—a child who fought with rocks over scraps before he taught you women didn’t need to draw blood in order to win.

Oh, and he taught you well... How you could make fools out of men, but never of him, with only a weaponized look in your eye.

You were a fast learner, too. The type of fast you only see in people who enjoy what they’re learning. You had fun slipping on those tiny dresses and heels, going out prowling for filthy rich men you could make your happy victims. You’d come away with their money and their thanks and seemed to bask in every second of it.

Back then, you were hungry. But too soon, it became too easy, and too soon, you realized money was a dull thing that would quicker leave you feeling sick to your overfull stomach than satisfied. 

You used to think you could buy a house and call it home, but you’ve since learned it doesn’t work that way. 

So you always come back to him. Home-sick little thing that you are.

You wear his shirt and coy eyes, crawling into his lap, daring him to fuck you now that you’ve made yourself so priceless.

“Think you can still afford me, old man?” you ask, looking at him through that sly smile he taught you to perfection so many years ago.

“Brazen,” he scoffs. “But coming crawling back here with your tail tucked between your legs isn’t exactly a good sales pitch, little girl.” 

Sighing, he acts as if he isn’t interested—and by god, how you missed getting played with like that. 

“I thought I taught you better than to show people what a wretched street cat you used to be, and yet here you are, begging me for the same scraps.”

You moan with aggression, a gleeful smile splitting your painted lips, looking at him with a twinkle in your eyes whilst purring, “Mmh, how I missed your dirty talk. Nothing gets me wetter than watching you deny how you don’t wish you’d collared me when you still had the chance.” 

He scoffs then, half-mast eyes watching as you unhurriedly unbuckle his belt for him. In his lap like a loyal pet. “Why would I put in the effort when you come back to me so willingly?”

“You trust me that much? That while you take your afternoon nap, I won’t find myself someone else to entertain me.” Your smile doesn’t waver, nor do your hands, and how they work oh-so-painfully slow at unbuttoning him, taking your sweet time, baiting him both with your actions and with your words. “I mean, you’re getting on in your years... I’m not sure how much longer you can keep up.”

That does it, of course. Older than you or not, he’s got the strength of a bull and the stamina of one who’s seen red, grabbing you by the fat of your ass as he springs up and strides to the bed where he all but tosses you down.

You only giggle and receive him, ready for your punishment like a convict pleading guilty. Feeling the same type of urgency take you when he bears over you, you rush to unbutton his shirt, attacking each other with tongue and teeth.

He tugs you close by the hips and doesn’t wait for any word of consent before filling you up.

Your eyes roll back, digging your painted nails into the muscles of his back and locking your legs behind him, thinking it feels nothing short of homecoming the way he stakes his claim as if he owns you.

“Playing games even when you know you’re mine,” he growls against your lips, his fist finding its way around your throat, squeezing tight. “Say it.” 

He owns you. He made you. Sculpted you with his bare fucking hands. You’ll never escape him. And you know it, so you should admit it with your chest. You’re his. No matter how many others you may go out hunting at night, you’ll always come back to your owner to present the kill. So be honest. His grip on your throat tightens. He owns you. 

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

All movement stills—breaths and all—hanging poised in the air as if stuck in the suspension. His heart flinches within his chest, rifts with hope so brutal it’s reminiscent of terror.

It hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear, nor was he aware he’d even wanted to hear it, and still, even now, he’s a little unsure as this feeling within is something he’s never before felt but always dreaded, and yet here you are, taking him by surprise.

You’re betraying the game the two of you’ve been playing. Throwing the knife away and asking him if he won’t do the same. But you’re not supposed to do such silly things. You’re supposed to have more pride than that. You’re supposed to be fangs and all, not soft-spoken confessions and those big eyes full of raw hope that bring him to his knees. Oh no, what have you done?

“Then marry me.”

Oh no, what have you made him do?

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[mochroialainn]

Think I need someone older

Think I need someone older, just a little bit colder. take the weight off your shoulders, think I need someone older ft. ex boyfriends dad John Price tw. age gap [reader is 22 and John is in his mid-late 40s], oral sex [male and female receiving] mentions of cheating [not by price or reader], insinuation of multiple rounds, PIV sex, creampie, mentions of a bitchy ex-wife, fem!reader, female anatomy, illusion to toxic and psychologically abusive relationship a/n. this turned out a lot longer than i anticipated it to be or i intended but when i started i just couldn't stop. price also works in security in this. this is also the first ime in ages that i have written something this long, so i apologise if it non-sensical or it makes no sense. word count.  3769 banner by @kaitsawamura

ex boyfriends dad John Price who had grown to hate the man his son at become, he was spoiled and entitled and thought he was gods gift to mankind always looking down on others and it was all because of his ex-wife. The woman worshiped her son, saw him as her prized possession, she did everything for him. Washing, cooking, cleaning and never punished him for anything he did and turned him into the monster he was today. John had tried to change her ways, tried to punish him and instill some discipline and human empathy into him but his wife wouldn’t have any of it. If John took his electronics away for misbehaving, his wife would give them back in 5 minutes. If he grounded him for any period of time, he knew all he had to do was ask his mom if he could go out and she would immediately tell him yes and to be safe and have fun. Any time he showed disrespetful behaviour, to them and to the other people she would always say ‘boys will be boys’. It was one of the many things that led to their eventual divorce when their son was 15. They shared custody and anytime his son was over Price tried to correct his behaviour, believing it was never too late but all of his work would be undone anytime he would go back to his mothers and by the time his son was 18 and stopped coming over as mandated by the courts, it was too late. Now his son only came round when he wanted something or was in the type of trouble he didn’t want his mother to know about. 

ex boyfriends dad John Price who met you for the first time at his son's 21st birthday, he didn’t plan on staying long and was only going to show face, put some money on the tab for his son and give him his present. And there are you, a pretty little thing wrapped in the arms of his asshole son and he decides to stay just a little longer than he planned to talk to you. You are oh so sweet when he talks to you, telling him you had heard good things about him from his ex-wife and son (which he instantly doubted, his wife was still bitter he went through with the divorce and his son saw him as this hard-handed father always dishing out punishments he believed he didn’t deserve), you voice is positively dripping with syrup and John feels his heart pick up in a way he hadn’t felt in years. But as he walks with you, he watches. Closely. Watches the way you're never too far away from his son, how you talk to nobody but him, how your eyes are always searching for his son in the room, how you rub your hand up and down your arms to comfort yourself as you watch his son talk, no, flirt with every other woman in the room. It makes something in his gut twist itself into knots because his son as this absolutely beautiful and sweet girl right there and he was just throwing it away

ex boyfriends dad John Price who meets you a few times in the next year, in cafes or supermarkets or even just when you’re out for a walk in the local park, you always look so pretty especially in the warmer months when you’re out and about in little summer dresses and short skirts, the warm summer sun shining on your skin and giving you a gorgeous glow,  and you are always so so nice to him, making conversation with soft smiles and wide eyes but he notices you're a littlemore skittish, always checking your phone and looking around you anxiously as if someone was watching you, how your clothes start to get a bit more conservative the little hints of your gorgeous skin now being hidden behind long sleeves and trousers. When he asks if you’re okay you give him a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and tell him everythings fine, the feeling he had in his gut when he first met you gets worse. He knew something was wrong and though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was he knew it had to do with his son. 

ex boyfriends dad John Price who hasn't seen you for a few months since he last saw you in December, the last time he saw you all the warmth had drained from your face and your eyes and though you were smiling there was an undeniable sadness and pain just rolling off you in waves. It broke his heart to see someone who was once so full of life become lifeless, like all the light and warmth that had radiated from you when you first meet was sucked out and replaced with a deep darkness that penetrated the very fibers of your soul. When he see’s you again, its Spring and the world has started to gain a bit more of its colour back, and so have you. You’re in a local bar, your friends surrounding you as you laugh and drinkand dance, John watches from the bar. Watches the way your eyes light up and your smile finally reached your eyes, the way your cheeks are dusted in a small pink hue as the alcohol flushes your skin. He smiles as he brings his whiskey to his lips and turns away from your group, who unbeknownst to him were trying to convince you to go up and talk to him despite the fact that he was your ex-boyfriends dad. They rolled their eyes and shoved at your shoulder every time you tried to brush them off, saying what better way to get revenge against your cheating, toxic ex-boyfriend than to sleep with his dad? And with the encouragement of another shot you decide to go ‘fuck it’ and walk up to the bar, sliding in comfortably beside John your hand falling right beside his your pinky finger brushing against as you turn your head to look at him only to find him already looking at you, his eyes raking up and down your body. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud, at least not to you at this very moment, but gods was he glad you were showing a little bit of skin again, the tight crop top you had on giving him the perfect view of your cleavage and leaving the delcious skin of your sides exposed while the short skirt you wore hugged the curve of your hips in such a teasing manner that he just wanted to reach out and palm the fat with his big hands just to feel it squish between his fingers, and your thighs gods he just wanted to bury his face inbetween them and feel the fat press against his head. 

ex boyfriends dad John Price who smiles at you, warm and welcoming, eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth as he greets you with a friendly ‘hi’, you give him a flirtatious smile and a ‘hi’ back. You quickly fall into an easy conversation, catching up with one another and skirting over the glaring question of what happened. You talk about your classes and how glad you are to be graduating soon and, saying how you’ve already secured a graduate position in one of the top companies within your industry and he tells you some stories of his time in the military and when he tells you about a scottish man called ‘Soap’ you can’t help but giggle and ask how he got that name and when John tells you its classified you pout at him and he damn near pulls you in for a kiss right there. Time flies by so quickly when you’re talking to him that you don’t even notice your friends leave, your best friend sending a text letting you know everyone got home safely and to use protection and not to do anything she wouldn’t do (which causes you to roll your eyes and John can’t help the dirty thoughts and images that flashes through his mind when he sees it), or how the numbers in the bar keep dwindling down until its just the two of you left and the bartender gives you a cheeky smile as you close out your tab (John insisting on paying for yours as well). 

ex boyfriends dad John Price who insists on walking you home when you’re ushered out of the bar, his hand casually slipping around shoulder as he pulls you against him, using the fact that the spring night is chilly and you didn’t bring a jacket out with you and he just radiates warmth, which instantly spreads through you at his touch. Starting in your cheeks, causing an adorable flush that quickly spreads through your entire body settle deep in your stomach and your core. You continue to chat as you walk, more stories flowing between the you and you flush even brighter at the big belly laugh he lets out as you share your drunken stories from freshers week when you first started university. Before you know it, you’re outside your apartment and you dwindle for a bit conversation dying down but neither of you wanting to say goodbye yet. It takes a nothing more than a few nanoseconds for you to decide to invite him up for a drink, telling him you had a bottle of 15 year old single malt your father gifted you for being accepted into your dream job after college and he accepts even quicker.

ex boyfriends dad John Price who follows behind you, his hand in yours and his heart beating rapidly in his chest feeling like a goody teenager as he crosses the threshold of apartment, he doesn’t even let the door fully close before he’s turning you around and pinning you to it. One hand gripping your hips and the other cradling your jaw like you are the most precious thing in the world, completely contradicting the way he kisses you. Its deep, harsh, bruising and full of passion, lips slotting against yours like they were always meant to be there. The kiss is absolutely intoxicating, one hand reaches out to fist at his shirt while the other tangles in his hair at the back of his head, your grab is a little tighter than you expected and tension at the back of his skull causes a moan to ripple from deep in Johns chest and spill into your mouth and you arch into him, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him, your hand moving from his chest to grip at his shoulders. You dig your nails into his skin beneath the soft fabric of his shirt as his hand moves from your hip to grab at your ass and pull you against him, his hard cock pressing into the plush of your stomach through his jeans. John pulls away from the kiss far to quickly for your liking and you go to chase his lips but he quickly buries his head in your neck, lips pressing against your pulse point as you pant and move your neck to give him better access to the skin, his teeth graze your skin as the kisses turns to bites and the moan you let our is absolute music to John’s ears.

ex boyfriends dad John Price who feels a little guilty about what he’s doing, the rational part of his brain at war with the emotional part, telling him it’s wrong and he shouldn’t be doing this, apart from the fact that you were more than 20 years younger than him you were also his son ex-girlfriend for gods sake and maybe part of him was doing this to spite his son and maybe you were doing the same thing, he didn’t know the details of what happened you didn’t elaborate when you told him you had broken up just after new year, maybe you were just doing this for revenge to screw with his son, to show him what he missed but the emotional part is screaming at him that this is right, that right there is where he’s meant to be. He found you attractive, had since he first saw you, but it was more than that he thought you were amazing and kind and so so smart, he enjoyed every second of the small amount of time he got to spend with you idly chatting when you meet, you made his heart beat so erratically in his chest that he was sure it was going to rip out of this chest but he wouldn’t even mind if it meant he go to give it to you for safe keeping  because he knew there was no better place it than in your hands. Eventually the rational side wins and John’s panting as he pulls back from your neck, pupils wide as he looks in your eyes. You see a hint of hesitation in his eyes, and something inside you shrinks back a little and the heat that had been pooling inside of you was slowly turning stone cold but the way John rubs his tumb against your cheek stops it from flaming our completely. His voice is quiet as he ask if you want this, he’s still breathless as the words pass it lips and you barely hear it but when it registers in your brain you are instantly saying ‘yes’ and nodding your head.  That’s all he needs for his emotional side to win and he is pressing his lips to yours once again and his hands are gripping onto your thighs as he easily hoists you up into his arms as you wrap your legs around his waist.

ex boyfriends dad John Price who doesn’t even take you to the bedroom, instead he gently places you on the sofa as his hands reach out to remove your shirt, throwing it over his shoulder hapazardly (you notice in the morning it’s hanging of the edge of your lamp shade), his lips trailing down your throat and across your collarbone intermittently changing from kisses to bites to sucks something akin to pride blooming in his chests as the purple marks bloom across your skin. Heat blooms where his lips touch and you grind up into him, the fabric of your skirt having rid up when he lifted you and being bunched around your hips leaving your panties and pussy exposed and allowing you to seek a delicious friction as your clit nudges against the fabric of his jeans through your panties, it helps that the fabric is tented from Johns hard cock. The moan you let out is almost pornographic from just the simple movement and John groans at the sound, moving his hips to meet yours as you grind just to hear it again. 

ex boyfriends dad John Price  who had planned to take his time with you, to learn exactly what made you come undone underneath him and to draw out orgasm after orgasm from you until you were a trembling mess who couldn’t even remember his own name, he wanted to make you moan and scream until your throat was raw and watch those pretty little eyes roll to the back of your head as pleasure overwhelmed your body, but he could feel the wetness of your underwear through his jeans and the way you nails dug into his skin through the fabric of his shirt so hard he was sure they would leave little crescent indents on the skin and bruises that would last days, ones he would proudly show off and he decided fuck taking his time. He quickly removed his lips from your skin and you mourned their loss but the feeling was quickly replaced with pleasure as he moved down and presses a kiss to your clit through your underwear as John hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down your thighs once again throwing it over his shoulder haphazardly not caring where they landed as his hand wrapped around your thigh and he dove into your pussy. He licks at your clit, tongue swirling around the bundle of nerves and pleasure shoots through your entire body, sparks lighting up your nervous system and it feel like every nerve comes alive more the fire inside of you heating up to a new degree with every swipe of his tongue and as John presses a finger to your entrance gently to your entrance, at first testing the resistance before slowly pushing into you and curving in such away it presses against your g-spot and its almost like he can directly inside of you with the precision he hits it at. The pleasure causes a moan and an ‘oh god’ to tumble from your lips and your eyes roll black, which John watches from between your legs and as your head falls back against the arm of the chair he nips gently at your clit the tiny bit of pain causes a whine to tumble from your lips and a smirk forms on Johns lips

ex boyfriends dad John Price   who says “eyes on me sweetheart” and the ways the words tumble from his lips, deep and rumbly and dripping with heat that almost makes you melt. And oh god the vibration against your clit has you almost seeing stars and pushes you closer to the edge but you quickly snap your head back so you can look down at John who presses another kiss to your clit as a reward but then he pulls his finger from inside you and for the briefest second you think you’re being punished but he replaces his mouth on your clit with his thumb and starts circling your clit while he raises the rest of his body to give you a bruising kiss, your tongues mixing together as you taste yourself on him and with one last flick of his thumb John feels you tense underneath him as your orgasm rocks your body. You feel like your whole body is on fire, little fireworks lighting up every single nerve ending you have and causing you to moan into John’s mouth, your fingers scramble to to hold onto something, anything to ground you, eventually tangling in the fabric of John’s shirt as you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your chest heaves as you come down from your high and you separate your lips from John to mumble the words “you have too many clothes one”, he chuckles at you and ducks down to place a kiss against your pulse point again before sitting up and pulling off his shirt first and then reaching down to unbuckle his belt, his jeans and boxers joining the mess of clothes all over the floor. Your eyes scan his body, his years in the military and security doing wonders for his body, corded muscles bulging in his arms as he brings his arms down on side of yours head forcing you to look him in the face once again where you’re meet with inquisitive and teasing eyes as he asks “like what you see sweetheart?” 

ex boyfriends dad John Price  who doesnt expect or wait for an answer as he presses his lips to yours in another searing kiss, lips and tongues melding together its almost like you were trying to drain each other life essence out just through the kiss. When John pulls away from you, a string of saliva connects you and only breaks when he dips his tongue out to swipe across his lips as he checks in with you again to make sure that this is what you want and when you nod, he takes one of his hands by your head and gently guides himself inside you. The stretch is absolutely delicious and a moan rips through you, starting deep in your chest and falling from your lips before you can even stop it but John doesn’t want you to stop it instead he grips your chin and tells you to be louder that he wants to hear every little sound that tumbles from your lips and so you do. With every thrust inside of you and every circle of Johns finger against your clit your moans get louder and more uncontrolled every fibre of your being filled with nothing but pleasure and your mind numb to any other thought than Johns name and the pleasure he is giving you. You cum again with John inside you, your nerve endings lighting up like the sun itself as you clench around him, the tightness of your pussy clamping down on Johns dick causing a jagged moan to fall from John’s lips. He knew he wasn’t going to last, he was already so worked up from kissing you and eating you out that he knew he was going to cum soon. And as you clench around him again, a mini ograsm richocting from your last one, he groans into you neck and takes your hip into a bruising grip, fingers and nail digging in to the plush flesh, he can’t himself as she sheathes himself inside of you right up to the hilt as his own orgasm rocks through him and he fills you with his cum. Your both panting, your chests heaving as you both come down from your high with ecstasy and adrenaline filling your systems and you notice, John is still hard inside of you so you say with a smile, “another round?” which may have turned into 2, including a round in the shower as he tried to clean you up from the previous rounds. 

ex boyfriends dad John Price who decided that night that he wanted this to be more, more than just sex. He wanted you in your entiretly, he wanted not just your heart but your soul. He wanted to know every secret you kept hidden buried deepen inside you, he wanted to know the simplest most basic parts of you, your favour colour and favourite food, what made you laugh and smile and what pisses you off. He wanted to hold your hopes and dreams in his hands and support you to reach to them, wanted to hold your hand as you rose and comfort you when you fell. He wanted your happiness and your pain. He just wanted you. Every part of you, no matter how knarled and ugly you thought it was because to him you would always be the most wonderful creature the gods had ever created.

[artficlly]

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary. 

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again. 

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

[caramelkoo]

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

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Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing. 

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off? 

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile. 

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.” 

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?” 

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have. 

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.” 

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter. 

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?” 

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No. 

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes. 

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves. 

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it. 

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides. 

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me. 

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense. 

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.” 

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?” 

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything? 

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?” 

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you. 

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always. 

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.” 

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing. 

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?” 

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?” 

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.” 

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices. 

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work. 

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?” 

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice 

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it? 

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew. 

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness. 

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness. 

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?” 

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries. 

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up. 

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.” 

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss” 

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing. 

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate. 

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won. 

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off. 

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know? 

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him. 

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade? 

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory. 

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man. 

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?” 

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones. 

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.” 

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?” 

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?” 

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle. 

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways. 

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off. 

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh. 

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room. 

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.” 

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps. 

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you. 

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. 

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.” 

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive. 

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.” 

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?” 

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod. 

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-” 

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows. 

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway. 

“Excuse me.” 

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?” 

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.” 

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad. 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?” 

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.” 

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before. 

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision. 

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter. 

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him. 

“You fucking bitch.” 

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished. 

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize. 

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe” 

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care. 

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you. 

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back. 

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”. 

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?” 

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.” 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question. 

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her. 

Initially, it bothered him. A lot. 

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?” 

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse. 

Thump thump thump. 

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.” 

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.” 

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.” 

And he does. For now. 

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one. 

Just when he thinks  _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?” 

“Come here.” 

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.” 

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?” 

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.” 

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint. 

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers. 

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine. 

The feeling is very much mutual. 

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting. 

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will. 

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it. 

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily. 

“Please.” she begs. 

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?” 

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.” 

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her. 

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her. 

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock. 

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that. 

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car. 

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.” 

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?” 

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?” 

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers. 

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own. 

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick. 

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.” 

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?” 

“As sure as one can be.” 

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers. 

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her. 

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch. 

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her. 

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure. 

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name. 

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?” 

She cries out. 

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god” 

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.” 

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again. 

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders. 

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate. 

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts. 

“What?” 

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes” 

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?” 

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words. 

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry. 

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.” 

[valentina-writes]

ovulation

Azriel x reader

kinda a part 2 to this

summary: it's your first time ovulating as a fae and your mate Azriel is more than happy to satiate the need within you

genre: smut!!! | words: 3.7k | masterlist

warnings: 18+, pwp (not even a sliver of plot), smut, piv, oral (f receiving), wingplay, creampie, the breeding kink goes hard in this one, slight exhibitionism, cumplay, ovulation (duh)

Smut! Only proceed if you're 18+. Minors dni

A/N: Here it is, sorry for the confusion earlier! I have no words to excuse this unhinged piece of filth, except that I'm sorry it's not longer ;) Don't ask me how I came up with it. Maybe this is the last time I'm writing smut, cause honestly? I think I've peaked with this.

Sweat was glistening all over Azriel's torso. The sun caught the droplets at just the right angle. It looked almost like he had a faint glimmer to him as he was sparring with Rhys. His toned abs were a sight for sore eyes, the way they flexed as he put his weight into a punch directed at the high lord. But Rhys was fast and dodged the attack. The males circled one another, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike again.

Had Azriel's back always been so muscular? Did it look like this as well when he wasn't tackling his brother, but instead bending you over and fucking you? Azriel looked so wild, so carefree in the heat of the moment. His big wings unfolded halfway as he landed his first punch in Rhys's face. And you couldn't help the shudder that went through your body at the sight of your mate and thought about how he would –

"...and then he – Y/N, are you even listening to me?" Feyre waved a hand in front of your face to win back your attention.

"What? I mean sure I am". You were perched on a bank, observing your mates sparring. Shirtless. You had no idea who was winning. The only thing you noticed was the way your mate's biceps flexed and how the sun hit his perfectly sculpted chest –

"Hey! You're practically mind-fucking him. What's going on with you? This is so unlike you". A blush crept over your face. But the wetness in your panties only intensified when a breeze hit your nostrils that carried the shadowsinger's scent. And a strange heat settled in your abdomen.

You were already half out of your seat before you realized you had stood up in hopes of clawing the pants off Azriel right there. "Oh Gods, of course", Feyre laughed, "I think you're ovulating". Azriel's head whipped around to you so fast he should've broken his neck. He stared at you, wide eyed and whatever he saw in you had his eyes darkening and a blush appearing at his neck. A moment of weakness Rhys used to hit him square in the face.

The hiss you shot at Rhysand was inhumane, animalistic almost and maybe you would've tried to tackle him, if your mate hadn't immediately stood up again and walked towards you with a grin on his bloody lips and looked so sexy you contemplated having a wagon-load of winged babies.

"Did he hurt you?". You brought your hand up to his face, your fingertips lightly grazing the small wound. Your mate shook his head no and, for some reason, Rhys was chuckling somewhere behind you. Your finger stilled at his upper lip. You took him in now, close up. His dishevelled hair, the sweat mixing with dirt and blood made him so masculine, so attractive your knees nearly buckled.

"You looked so hot fighting like this", you breathed. Rhys wheezed before laughing out loudly. But your mate drew you into a hug and whispered into your ear: "I could smell you all across the training ring". Your hands grasped his arms to stabilize yourself. Your heart hammered inside your chest and the burning desire between your thighs got unbearable.

Azriel turned his head towards the others. "Did you tell her what it would be like? Does she know? I don't want to take advantage of her like this". As if on cue, you moved your hand down his front, down the delicious muscles and to his pants that hid his manhood. And then you brushed over his half-hard length firmly, fumbling to open his pants. Azriel's scarred hands clutched your waist tightly and a small gasp left his lips.

"She does", Feyre was nearly crying from laughing, "besides I think it's her who's taking advantage of you, not the other way around".

"Azzie", you begged, unable to open his pants while he held you so close, "I need you. I love you so much. You're so sexy. And it... it hurts".

Concern etched on his face. "My love, where does it hurt?". Deep inside you, straight at your core.

"I can show you". Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were screaming at yourself to get it together, but it was like all your senses were attuned to him. Like every filter had been removed, when you grabbed his hand and tried to shove it down your own pants while simultaneously tracing the whirls of the tattoo on his chest with your tongue.

"Get a room, for Cauldron's sake", Rhys bellowed and your mate grimaced at your antics.

Azriel grabbed you by your arm, the world turned dark around you and all of a sudden you were in your bedroom, hanging onto Az.

"My mate is so strong and powerful", you grinned. "And so hot and so big". He choked on plain air when you palmed him through his pants again. You whimpered. He was fully hard now, straining against his confines. "So big", you repeated and stroked him through his pants. A growl left Azriel's lips and his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss. Your blood was boiling, clothes too tight on your body and his naked skin drove you insane. Every thought left your brain as you touched every inch of his body you could reach and pulled him to the bed, on top of you without breaking the kiss. You were starving and the only remedy were his lips and his tongue that were just as desperate as your own. Only when you were gasping for air, did Azriel move his kisses down to your neck.

"It hurts, Az"

"I know, baby. I'll take care of you. But you've been a bad girl, my love. Very bad". He panted. Dark tendrils of shadows slipped around your waists and ankles, binding them to the bed.

"First, you smell so delicious you make me lose against Rhys". He pressed a hot kiss to your neck, flicking the delicate skin with his tongue. A loud moan escaped you and you thrashed against the shadows holding you in place. "Then you try to get me to fuck you right in front of my brother". He took truth-teller and cut across your shirt and bra before throwing the knife away and latching onto your now freed hard nipple. It took everything within you to not come undone then and there. "And then you touch me and almost make me cum in my pants even though you want it so much, don't you?" He rolled his hips against yours once, against the powerful bundle of nerves.

"I can't help it", you replied breathlessly, "I – fuck – I need you".

His tongue circled your nipple. "Hmm... use your words. Where do you need me? I'll make you feel better" The shadows snaked up your legs now and smoothly pulled off your pants, leaving only your panties that were so wet the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Azriel kissed all over your breasts. "Here?" You shook your head. His kisses wandered further down, stopping near your bellybutton. "Here?". Vehemently, you shook your head again. "Hmm... where else?", he teased. You wanted to grab him and lead him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Azriel chuckled softly and his mouth moved down again, agonizingly slowly towards where you needed him most. Your body was ablaze, writhing against the shadows that bound you. At the seam of your panties he stopped, breathing you in. "Gods, you smell divine". A hungry expression grazed his eyes. His nose pressed into your clothed crotch and he inhaled deeply, groaning. Azriel pressed a kiss right there, making you keen. "Do you need me here?".

A shadow caressed your cheek lightly. "Yes, right there". A wicked gleam showed in his eyes. He pressed a kiss to your still clothed sex that had you chasing his touch. You could only see his dark hair when he kissed your thighs, higher and higher, until he reached delicate skin next to your panties, soaked with arousal. By now, you were reduced to a whining mess, the only word leaving your mouth his name. You couldn't see what he was doing, your view obscured by his big wings, but the next moment, air hit your cunt and he had a ripped piece of fabric hanging from his grinning lips. Your heart skipped a beat and you moaned out in delight. Azriel had ripped your panties off with his teeth.

Azriel pressed light kisses to your folds, and then licked through them up to your clit in one slow motion.

"So wet for me". And then he ate you like you were his last meal. With deliberate strokes of his tongue, he gathered your moisture and greedily swallowed it all. His tongue dove into your waiting hole, a hand moved up to grasp your breast and with every lick, your mate's nose hit your clit at just the right angle. He was thrusting against the mattress now, you realized wirh a shudder. It was too much.

"Come on my tongue. Let go for me", he panted between licks. He thrust his tongue deeply inside and you came hard, screaming out his name and fell limp to the mattress. He helped you ride out your orgasm, drinking up every drop of moisture. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, but the pain in your womb hadn't receded. If anything the searing ache had only intensified.

"You're so pretty when you cum". Azriel kissed you softly on your lips and this small affection had you arching up against him again.

"Fuck, Az. I need more of you"

Calloused fingers ghosted against your clit and then slipped downwards, circling your entrance.

"My pretty girl can take another one, can't you? For making a fool out of me infront of Rhys". But he didn't look angry at all with his wide smile and blown out pupils as two fingers slipped inside you and curled against your walls.

The stretch and the textured feeling of his scarred fingers was oh so welcome and you greedily leaned into him, but it just wasn't enough. It just wasn't his rock-hard cock that lay against your thigh now, promising pleasure beyond anything you had ever felt.

You stroked lightly against the shadows binding you to the bed. They purred at your touch, turned soft and pliant. Enough so that they allowed you to move. Without wasting precious time, your hand shot out and stroked his wing, found the big vein right next to the main bone. Azriel shuddered above you and dropped his head onto your chest, his hand stilled within you. Slowly, you traced the vein and then the strong tendons next to it. His wing was limp in your hands, dropping half-opened to the bed and Azriel collapsed on top of you. He groaned deeply into your neck, making your toes curl and you nearly came from the sound alone. He humped against your leg, his cock now so hard it was throbbing through his pants, desperate for any friction. Another light touch of your fingertips against the delicate membrane and he bit your neck softly, growling.

Cold air whipped over your arm and ripped it off his wing, bringing it back to its original position. Azriel shot up and knelt over you and you couldn't help the whine that escaped you at the loss of contact.

"You can play later. For as long as you want", his chest was moving rapidly with his strained breaths, "but not yet"

"I can't help it. I need to feel you and touch you. I need your cock inside me and –"

He ripped his pants off, freeing his hard length that slapped against his abdomen. Its head was an angry shade of red, leaking precum all over. His veins stood out prominently against the soft skin and you swore it pulsed harder the more you looked at it. The ache inside you intensified, saliva pooled in your mouth and you were sure if you didn't get him inside you right now you'd die.

"I wanted to prepare you for me". He was shaking, restraining himself from taking you right then and there. His eyes wandered down to your waiting cunt, clenching and dripping around nothing, and the look on his face became predatory. "Do you think you're ready for me?" It was laughable, the way you thrashed against his shadows, your arousal so evident in the wetness pooling between your thighs and the hunger for his cock. You felt painfully empty, an ache deep inside you that you knew only he could cure.

"Please. Fuck me already. I need you, please", you whined. And the last sliver of your sanity went flying out of the window at your begging.

He was above you again so fast you didn't even see his movement. His hot tip slid through your folds, nudging against your clit in a deliciously devastating way that had you seeing stars. Azriel coated himself in your wetness and then stopped, his tip right at your entrance. You bucked your hips forward in annoyance, but he held you in place firmly.

There was little restraint left in his voice when he asked: "How do you want it?". The big wings at his back were trembling.

What a stupid fucking question. "Hard"

You didn't need to tell him twice. With a fast movement, he entered you and pushed all the way inside in one hard thrust. Azriel's eyes rolled back and you cried out in ecstasy. The way he filled you so completely, stretching you with a delicious burn around his hard length made the need for him even worse.

"So wet and ready for me. You take me so well", he whispered and thrust hard once. You tugged at the shadows again, but they wouldn't budge this time. "Such a needy little princess". Another thrust, hitting a spot that made you see stars. "I love the way you feel around me. Always so perfect". His eyes darkened as he looked down upon your naked body. "Hold on tight". He grabbed one of your legs and spread you wider, allowing him to settle even deeper inside you, taking your breath away. And then he fucked you roughly into the mattress. He set a rough and punishing pace, his hands wrapped so tight around your waist they would leave bruises. His cock hit all the right spots inside you and every thought except for him left your mind.

The moans that escaped you were beyond shameless. Again and again, you tried to arch up into him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Your eyes met his and the love he put into this look was enough to send you ober the edge, crying out his name.

He stopped inside you without pulling out. "Do you feel better?". All you could register was the hard length still buried inside you up to his balls, throbbing and twitching. You shook your head.

"No? What more does my princess need?". Azriel's mouth latched back onto your breast, sucking and kissing the hardened nub and you felt yourself getting impossibly wetter by the second. "I need – fuck – I need – your – cum", you gasped with each flick of his tongue.

A deep groan sounded from him and it was music in your ears.

"Want me to come inside you? Fill you up with my seed?". He pressed a hand to your abdomen, right were he was nestled inside you and you bucked your hips against him.

"Yes. Please – don't pull out"

Azriel dropped down on you again with almost all his weight. It was pure torture having him so close and not being able to touch him.

"Breed me, Az"

Something inside him snapped at your words. He started moving again, thrusting harder and faster than before. Moans escaped his lips, mingling with your own.

The shadows relaxed their pull around you. You flung your legs around his waist, allowing him to go in even deeper. And your hands shot up straight to his bag, fingers clawing at his hard muscles. Azriel growled deeply into your ear.

"Want me to breed you?"

"Yes", you moaned, nodding frantically. He was almost there, his thrusts grew sloppy and impatient. The throbbing of his cock against your cervix the most beautiful thing you had ever felt.

"See how deep I am?" The fingers of his hand pressed to your abdomen flexed right where a bulge formed with every thrust. All you could do was nod weakly, your eyes rolling back. "Feels so good"

"This cock is yours". Your hands threaded into his hair and pulled him down to your lips. Shadows flew down to your clit and started nipping at it. "My seed is yours", he whispered against your lips.

With a strong twitch, he came inside you, hot ropes of his thick cum spurted out of him, right where you needed it the most. There was a lot of it, warmth spreading deep inside you. He kept moving, his cum squelching obscenely and the feeling of him and his seed right against your womb, the shadows working your clit perfectly, had you convulsing around him in a hard climax.

Azriel buried his face in the crook of your neck. The mating bond between you glowed in a familiar light and you felt the love radiating off him.

"Did I hurt you, baby?", he asked breathlessly.

"No. I loved it". You shuddered. There was semen dripping out of you now and you hated every drop that was wasted.

"Do you feel better?"

He tried to withdraw, but you kept him from escaping by pulling him further in with your legs around his hips.

"Not enough", you complained, out of breath, "need more of you". The burning inside your womb had died down by a fraction, but you weren't satisfied yet. Your body needed more of him, even though you could already feel him softening inside you.

"You're insatiable. Like a desperate little slut, begging for my cock to fill you up".

Azriel's lips found your neck, licking, kissing and biting until you were reduced to a whining mess below him again.

"Wait a bit, I'm not ready to go again"

But you couldn't wait. He let you roll him over onto his back with you sitting astride him. Azriel's hands gripped your hips and there was nothing but love in his gaze. Cum ran out of your cunt and dripped into his short pubic hair, onto his thighs and the sheets. Your pussy pulsed at the sight.

You dipped your fingers into his cum and brought it to your mouth to taste him. The slightly salty aroma made you moan on your fingers. And Gods, he was so sexy below you, his chest still glistening with sweat, the illyrian tattoo and his toned abs, the absolutely fucked-out look on his face. You knew exactly what to do.

Both of your hands found his neatly folded wings. You stroked all over the membranes, unfolded the wings to reach the better hidden spots that he loved the most. And he just let you.

He grew harder inside you by the second. Not long, and you were circling your hips, sliding slowly up and down his cock, slick with arousal and cum.

You got off on the sight of him, completely at your mercy. With each deliberate touch of yours, his wings trembled under your fingertips and his cock throbbed inside you.

"You're so hot like this", you gasped as you rode him slowly, "I want to fuck you until your balls are empty and I'm full of you".

You brushed against the main veins of his wings. A full-body shudder went through him, his gaze turned clear, and the next moment, he had you face down, ass up in the air and entered you from behind, making you scream.

"Fuck, that's better", he groaned, "Didn't I say it's time for wings later?". You only mewled, the new angle bringing a foreign stretch and deep penetration.

You were close to orgasm again

"But my girl needs more of my seed, right? You need to milk me dry?". He underlined his words with a deep roll of his hips and then stilled, his hands at your hips to keep you from bucking your hips back at him.

The words tumbled from your lips like a prayer. "Fuck yes. Please, Az"

With one sharp movement, he started pistoning in and out of you again, his balls slapping rhythmically against your clit.

"You're perfect like this, taking me so well".

His pace was relentless, each thrust shoving you deeper into the pillows.

"Come for me again, love". Azriel's fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your climax ripped through you with a force that had you screaming his name. You clenched around him trembling.

One more thrust, until he was buried deeply inside you, his tip nestled directly against your cervix, and he found his release with a roar that had the bed shaking. Warmth spread inside you once again, straight to were you needed it.

He pressed a kiss to your back and pulled out of you. A small river of his cum trickled down your thighs. Your pussy felt sore, but the ache was gone and so was the fog in your mind.

Azriel pulled you tightly against him, laying down.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Is it better now?".

A blush crept over your cheeks at the thought of how wanton you had been only minutes ago. The things you had said, for Cauldron's sake. You hoped Rhys and Feyre had at least left the house before you started. There was no way you'd be able to look anyone into the eye again if they'd heard that. Not to mention the embarrassment you felt towards your mate. The way you had begged for his cum.

"Yes. Is it over now?"

A grin settled on his face. "If you're lucky, it'll be over in a few days".

You hid your face in your hands. "A few days? Oh Gods, I'm so sorry for how I behaved. For what I said. That was so –" Embarrassing? Humiliating? Shameful?

"That was really hot", he said softly and took your hands off your face, "that was probably the best sex I've ever had and, judging by the sounds you made –" you wanted to die on the spot "– and how you begged for more, I think you liked it too. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's instinct, you can't control it". A peck on your nose had you smiling again.

"I know, but still". He stared at you, disbelieving. "Okay, fine. I loved it. And it doesn't sound too bad to have you fucking me like that for the next couple of days"

[songbirdseung]

you thought? / park sunghoon

how dare you think your boyfriend could ever forget your anniversary? he may be seen as a 'tsundere' but he'll never make you doubt his love and care for you.

you didn't even get the chance to overthink, to wonder, or god forbid, to shed a tear over whether sunghoon had forgotten your anniversary.

because from the moment he woke up that morning, he was already in motion. carefully detangling himself from you, he slipped out of bed with a determination that was rare for someone who usually clung to sleep like a lifeline. but today was different.

he moved quickly, yet as quietly as possible, flitting around the room as he hung up decorations, carefully arranging balloons, and scattering little celebratory touches throughout the space. every detail had to be perfect. satisfied, he rushed downstairs to prepare breakfast, moving with a frantic sort of excitement. give him credit where it's due... he was really excelling at this boyfriend thing.

with a tray balanced in his hands, he returned to the bedroom, setting it gently on the bedside table. he took a step back, scanning everything one last time, his heart pounding in anticipation. would you love it? would you smile at him with that soft, sleepy expression that made his chest tighten?

but first, he had to wake you up.

crawling back into bed, he hovered over you slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he admired your peaceful face. and then, with gentle affection, he began placing kisses all over your face, each one lingering just a little longer than the last.

"sunghoon?" your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, as you stirred beneath him. your brows furrowed in confusion before your eyes fluttered open, immediately locking onto his. but then, something else caught your attention. your gaze drifted past him, scanning the room, now noticeably decorated and filled with little surprises.

"happy first anniversary, beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with fondness.

his smile… that damn smile.

your heart swelled as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. when he finally pulled back, he gazed at you like you were the most precious thing in the world... because to him, you were.

"you did this?" your voice was barely above a whisper, still caught between shock and admiration.

he scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. "who else, dummy?"

before you could pout, he pinched your cheeks, grinning at how easily you reacted to his teasing. then, with careful hands, he helped you sit up against the headboard, reaching over to grab the tray of breakfast he had prepared just for you.

"now, let me spoil the hell out of you," he said, his voice laced with nothing but love.

as you settled against the headboard, sunghoon carefully placed the tray on your lap, watching your reaction with anticipation. the plate was filled with your favorite breakfast. though slightly unevenly plated, and the eggs were just a little overcooked, it was obvious how much effort he had put into making everything just right.

your heart melted.

"you really did all this?" you asked again, still in awe as you picked up the fork.

"i already answered that, dummy," he teased, nudging your shoulder before leaning back against the pillows beside you. "but yeah. you deserve it."

your face warmed at his words. sunghoon wasn’t always this openly affectionate, his love was usually hidden behind teasing remarks and playful jabs but moments like these, where he stripped away the smug exterior and just adored you? they made your heart ache in the best way.

"so... does this mean you love me or something?" you teased, smirking as you took a bite.

sunghoon scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "ew. don’t make it weird."

you laughed, almost choking on your food, and he reached out to pat your back while shaking his head. "see? this is why i bully you. keep talking like that, and i might just take all this back."

"you won’t," you said confidently, grinning at him.

"no, i won’t," he admitted, unable to help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. he leaned in, stealing a piece of your toast before settling in next to you, watching as you continued eating.

for a moment, there was only comfortable silence. the kind that came when two people just existed together, no words needed.

but then, he shifted, resting his chin on your shoulder, his voice softer now.

"seriously, though," he murmured, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your knee. "happy anniversary, baby. i mean it. i don't say it enough, but i really… really love you."

your breath hitched, heart swelling at the rare, unguarded confession. turning your head slightly, you met his gaze... no teasing, no smirk, just pure sincerity.

"i love you too, hoon," you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

he hummed in satisfaction, squeezing your hand before snuggling closer.

"good," he mumbled against your shoulder. "now hurry up and finish eating. i have an entire day planned for us."

"oh? and what exactly are we doing?" you asked curiously.

he grinned, eyes twinkling with excitement. "not telling. it's a surprise."

[lqveharrington]

Family Tree | D.M.

summary: Eleven years after the second wizarding war, you find yourself making lifelong decisions on platform 9¾ once more.

pairing: ex!draco malfoy x fem!reader

includes: a LONG fic, daughter’s name is melody, talks about the war, abandonment, pregnancy, implied sex, cursing, hufflepuff slander (i’m a hufflepuff, i’m sorry), Pansy being a fun aunt & friend, teddy lupin mention being the coolest second cousin, melody is a mischievous child, teddy doesn’t like his god father, cursing, mainly angst with some fluff

a/n: i love him, your honor (he was truly my first love) this took way longer than i thought it would, so sorry 🙏

Years after you fought alongside Harry Potter to defend Hogwarts and the rest of the Wizarding World from Voldemort’s wrath, you found yourself packing trunks for Hogwarts once more. However, the trunks you packed were no longer yours. They contained unhoused robes and new textbooks that weren’t marked with your doodles and annotations. The pet carrier didn’t hold your own owl, but instead your daughter’s snowy owl.

Eleven years old. It was finally time for your daughter to attend Hogwarts.

The entire morning — the entire week — she would go on about finally being able to learn the spells and charms that protected the witches and wizards from evil. Just like you.

When you held her hand tightly to enter platform 9¾, she would continue to talk about seeing all the ghosts and paintings that were mentioned in all your stories. Of course, you never told her all the adventures you endured. She didn’t need to know where the Room of Requirements was.

“—And Moaning Myrtle! Is she as annoying as you said she was? I hope she isn’t. I want to ask her so many questions about you—“

“Melody, my love, you can’t bother the ghosts all the time. Hogwarts is a school.” You run your fingers through her platinum blonde hair and smile playfully when she scrunched her nose at you. You dusted off her shoulders and tilted your head, “What?”

“But it’s a magical school, mum. Shouldn’t I be able to ask questions if I have any?” She challenged you with a raised brow, pushing your hand away and adjusting her perfect hair — much like her father. She always wanted to be absolutely flawless, even when presented in front of you.

Your heart clenched at how similar Melody was to her father. Her smile and her mannerisms were all the same. It felt like you were eleven again and meeting him for the first time. The only difference between him and Melody was her eyes. She was born with your eyes — the ones filled with so much emotion with every single look.

Glancing down at your watch, you sighed and cocked your head to the side, fixating your gaze on the train that once took you to a place where you found everything and everyone you loved. Where you found him.

“Don’t miss me too much. I’ll be back every chance I get.” Melody took your hand in hers and squeezed, noticing your far off look. Her thumb traced the silver ring you wore on your left hand. She never knew what the M stood for on your ring — she always assumed it was for her name.

“I promise I’ll send an owl every week.”

“I know you will.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head before your eyes caught a book being dropped by a young boy — who looked an awful lot like Tonks and Remus. Shaking your head, you bent to pick the book up and handed it to your daughter. “Can you quickly run and hand this to that young man? But come straight back. I want to properly say goodbye before you leave me forever.”

Melody rolled her eyes at your antics, but nothing could hide the smile that came with it. She made swift steps over to the boy before he boarded the train, eyes widening curiously when he faced her. The boy’s hair turned a bright pink as he thanked her, a sheepish smile gracing his lips.

“Are you a Metamorphmagus?” Melody whispered in excitement and watched his hair turned an electric blue. Her grin widened, recalling what you told her a while ago. “My mum says my aunt was one!”

The boy finally took a good look at Melody, a light bulb going off in his head when he realized who he was talking to. He recognized her the Black Family tree back at 12 Grimmauld Place. He opened his mouth to ask her who she was when his friends pulled him into the train without a single glance to whoever he was talking to.

Melody furrowed her brows in confusion before huffing, perfectly styled hair whipping behind her as she left to find you before boarding the express herself. She thought all Hufflepuffs were supposed to be sweet, but these Hufflepuffs seemed to ignore her like she was nothing but an itty bitty fairy.

She hoped she wasn’t put into Hufflepuff.

“My mum was one of the hero’s at Hogwarts.” She muttered to herself and — once again — flicked a piece of her blonde hair behind her shoulder, narrowly avoiding a collision of trolleys to her left. “I’ll tell her all about this.”

Melody made a quick turn to where she last left you before slamming into someone, nearly toppling over from the sheer force. She caught the person’s arm and yanked herself back before she could fall on her arse, mentally cursing herself for not looking at her surroundings.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She muttered and dusted herself off from invisible dust, looking up at the person only to find a man staring at her with a shocked expression. Was he really that offended by it? He was an adult and she was merely eleven.

The man blinked before shaking his head, schooling his shocked expression to one of nonchalance instead. He looked around and tilted his head at the girl standing in front of him, examining her face like she was someone he recognized before. This girl reminded him of someone he used to know. Someone he used to love dearly.

Melody pursed her lips and rocked on the heel of her Mary Jane’s, avoiding his gaze. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with his staring, but she wasn’t comfortable either. Just as Melody was about to excuse herself from the man, she heard your familiar voice ring out, making her visibly relax despite your tone.

“Where were you? I told you to come straight back.” You rushed over to her and ran your fingers through her hair once more, unaware of your surroundings. You were so worried she had left before saying goodbye and it absolutely haunted you.

She looked back at the blonde man behind you for a split second before tilting her head down to the floor. Melody knew that you were waiting for an answer — she just had to suck up the embarrassment.

“I was coming to find you when I knocked into that man.” She gestured behind you and held back a whine when you tilted her head to check her for any cuts and bruises.

Melody made eye contact with the same person she knocked into again and hid her face in your jumper, hating that all the attention kept going back to her. She felt scrutinized under his gaze.

“Mum.”

You sigh softly and turn your attention to the man, still carding your fingers through Melody’s hair. You kept your eyes trained on her until she relaxed, finally looking up to meet the said person when years of memories hit you like a freight train.

“I’m so sorry about Melody. She usually isn’t this distracted — Draco?”

Your throat closed up at the sight of him — Draco Malfoy.

It was your Draco. The one who promised to love you his entire life; the one who promised to never leave your side; the one who left you alone with nothing but a broken heart and an unborn daughter.

Draco swallowed thickly and looked away. He felt horrible leaving you alone all these years, but he couldn’t figure out how to explain to you why he left so abruptly. Especially when you were about to drop your daughter — his daughter — off to Hogwarts.

Everything felt so overwhelming for the small family.

The whistling of the Hogwarts' Express immediately caught Melody's ears, her eyes widening at how little time she had left with you before departing for the next few months until holiday.

“Mum, the express is going to leave soon.” Melody’s voice snapped you out of your stupor, her small hand squeezing your ringed hand — which didn’t escape Draco’s gaze.

You cupped her face with both hands, kissing her forehead. This would be the first time you would be away from her for so long and you didn’t know if you could handle the separation.

“When you have time, send me an owl right away. Include your house in the parchment, alright? Be safe and make smart decisions.“ You instructed.

“I will.” She locked a pinky around yours before wrapping her arms around your neck, breathing in your familiar scent one last time. “I love you, mum.”

“I love you too, my sweet girl.” You held her tightly and made the horrible mistake of meeting Draco’s eyes. You looked away faster than he could mark the emotion in your eyes. “Now get on that train before it leaves without you.”

Melody ran on the train and found a compartment occupied by a couple of other first years, smiling when you waved to her as the Hogwarts’ Express left platform 9¾.

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant.” Draco spoke and pushed his hair back — the initial shock finally settling in his chest.

You sigh and turn to face him, arms crossed over your chest. Although it had been years, the warmth from his gaze still filled you and you hated it. You hated that all the love you had for him was still stored away.

“Why are you here, Draco?”

He narrowed his eyes at your deflection but answered truthfully. He might as well begin with the truth before anything else.

“I’m the auror assigned to protect the wizards and witches at this platform.” Draco responded before glancing at his watch, frowning at the time it read back. “I’ll be back—“

You put your hand up and stopped his excuses, shaking your head and frowning. Pulling out your own wand, you pointed it at his chest and glared. You would never let yourself be fooled twice.

“That’s what you’re good at doing, Draco.” You tapped your wand on his chest, your heart screaming to stop but your mind blocked out every emotion you felt for him besides pure rage. “You’re good at leaving. That’s all I know about you, and that’s all Melody will ever know about her father.”

Draco’s hands clenched by his sides but made no effort to stop you. He could tell — your eyes betraying your every emotion — that you needed to reprimand him. He could see the way you wanted to scream and shout everything you kept bottled in your mind. Every single memory you had with him building up, ready to explode with any wrong move.

“Love—“

“You have no right.” You whisper at the nickname and shake your head at him, apparating away.

Melody watched in trepidation as first years were sorted into a house after Professor McGonagall read off their names from a long roll of parchment. Each and every one of them grinning brightly at the rest of the student body when the Sorting Hat screamed their respective houses out. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long to be sorted.

After all, her mother blessed her with a last name that wouldn’t take ages to be called up.

“Bellemont, Melody!”

She beamed at the professors as she made her up onto the wooden stool, flicking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her shoulder as the Sorting Hat was placed upon her head. Melody wasn’t sure what to expect when the hat fell, but she knew she would rather move to America than be sorted in Hufflepuff like that group of boys she met at the station. They were all rude except for the Metamorphmagus she held an actual conversation with.

“A Malfoy who isn’t a Malfoy.” The Sorting Hat murmured to itself — and knowingly — Melody. “Clearly, you haven’t been raised with the pureblooded status quo. Perhaps your mother’s doing… But you have your father’s confidence and pride…”

Melody’s face twisted in confusion at the hat’s words. Who was Malfoy? Was that her father? Maybe her grandmother’s previous last name? She didn’t understand the hat, and as if it read her mind — which it could — clarified for the young witch.

“Your father was a broken soul.” The hat tutted and swished around her head like it was revisiting old memories of her parents. “Your mother wormed her way into his heart until she mended him.”

She blinked and looked over at McGonagall, who merely smiled at her. Melody pursed her lips and looked out into the crowd, hoping to find any kind of familiar face. Unfortunately, all her aunts and uncles decided to have children only a few years ago.

Melody frowned as the hat continued to make random comments about her parents, ultimately boring her from the ceremony. She wasn’t sure what the hat was going on about you and her father, but she was sure to send an owl to you soon.

“Nevertheless, your father and mother were in the same house.” The Sorting Hat commented before shouting its decision for everyone in the Great Hall to hear. “SLYTHERIN!”

Melody gave the applauding hall a tight-lipped smile as she walked over to the Slytherin table, finding an empty seat beside an enthusiastic prefect. She was ecstatic to be in the same house as her mother, of course, but now only one thing circled her mind. She didn’t feel the need to ever know about this before. You were all she ever needed. Yet the Sorting Hat planted something in her head, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Who was her father? And who is Malfoy?

“I’ve been getting the same question back from Melody in every single letter. This is starting to get ridiculous.” You throw the recent letter you received from Melody on the kitchen counter, rubbing your face in frustration. “What the hell happened at Hogwarts for her to suddenly be interested in who her father is?”

On a normal day, Melody would never pester you about who her father was. Now, it felt like you got a letter everyday about who her father was. You weren’t sure what the best move was. Either way you went, everything would change drastically.

Pansy shrugged and read the letter, raising her brows at the perfect cursive that could rival Draco’s. “Maybe it’s time you should tell her. It’s been eleven years, and she’s old enough to know about him.“

You spun the stupid Malfoy ring on your finger and huffed. “It’s not about how old she is. I just don’t want her to know that Draco essentially abandoned her. Granted, he left before I could even tell him.” You glared at the silver ring. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull the piece of jewelry off. “Besides, she already met Draco. It’ll complicate the entire situation if I try to explain it now.”

“Wait — when did Melody meet Draco?” She furrowed her brows and sat up at the new information. Pansy squinted at your expression before gasping, nearly jumping out of her chair at the realization. “At the platform?”

“Yes.” You groan and bury your head in your hands. Even if you did want Melody to know about her father at some point, you didn’t want it to be like that. She doesn’t deserve such an abrupt change right before she hopped on the express for Hogwarts. “Melody bumped into him trying to find me.”

Pansy sighed and took your hands in hers, watching your reaction very closely. “It’s better that you tell her about Draco rather than someone else tell her. I don’t doubt you’ll make the right call about all of this, but please tell her sooner rather than later.” Pansy squeezed your hands and sent you a small smile.

You bit your bottom lip and glanced toward the moving photograph you hung on the wall. It was a picture of you, Pansy, and Blaise right before Draco’s final quidditch game. You were laughing at something Blaise said, but the photo only played that far into the memory before resetting.

Pansy caught your gaze and waved her wand over to the frame, changing the length of the moving photograph. Instead of you laughing at something Blaise said, you were pulling an unamused Draco to sit beside you for the photo.

Your heart clenched at the sight, finally giving into your daughter’s pleads.

“I’ll tell Melody when she comes home for the holidays. I don’t want her to find out via owl.” You sigh and wave your hand toward the photograph, setting it back to the way it was originally.

The photo was taunting you to look back over, but your fragile heart couldn’t take it anymore.

You could always tell yourself you wanted nothing to do with Draco, but everyone knew that you would run back if you found the perfect reason to. Maybe Melody was your perfect reason.

“Melody, wait!”

The girl turned to the sound of her name — blonde locks flawlessly following through — and her arms tightened around the textbooks she held. Out of all the people at Hogwarts, she least expected to see the boy from the train station jogging toward her. She looked behind him for his friends — if you could even call them friends — but it was just the boy. The Metamorphmagus boy.

“Yes?” She tilted her head and creased her eyebrows when his hair turned a horrid shade of green. The color made her feel uneasy, forcing her to wait until it faded back to its original state to speak. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know your — er — name.”

The boy blinked before sticking his hand out, shaking her hand profusely. “I’m Teddy Lupin. I’m so sorry about my friends back on the express months ago. They found an unoccupied compartment and wanted to claim it before someone else took it.”

Melody slowly nodded and glanced at her leather watch, frowning when she realized she was already seconds late to a study session with a couple of first years she befriended. She pursed her lips and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Was that all you needed me for? I need to study for a charms exam.”

“Well — uhm — I don’t want you to not study, but I wanted to ask you if this was you. If it’s not, it looks scarily like you and has the exact same name. Except the last name matches my uncle’s — “

Melody barely processed the rest of his rambling as Teddy pulled out a photograph of a wall she couldn’t recognize. There were bits and pieces of the wall that were burnt and faces that were skeletons rather than perfectly painted — perfectly detailed — faces. It seemed like the wall went on forever until she glanced at the very bottom right.

Melody’s breath lodged in her throat as she read the last name painted beside her legal first name. Her eyes followed the family tree branch up to find — not her mother — but her father’s face painted on the wall. Although your face wasn’t painted, your name was still written underneath one—

“Draco Malfoy.” She whispered and looked up at Teddy with a shocked expression, hands gripping the photograph in confusion.

There was the last name the Sorting Hat kept muttering.

It was the same man she met at the platform months ago. The color of his hair — and the way you acted around him — should’ve been a dead giveaway that he was indeed her father. Melody shook her head and gave Teddy back the photo, determined to understand why you chose to hide this from her for so long.

“You wouldn’t mind helping me figure the rest of this out, would you?”

The wind breezing through platform 9¾ from the Hogwarts’ Express sent your hair flying through the air and your arms tightening around yourself. You were picking Melody up for the holidays and made the awful decision to not bring a stupid coat — thinking you could get out within minutes.

Silently cursing from how cold it was, you watch the students stream out of the train until you saw the platinum blonde hair you knew belonged to your daughter. Instantly, her eyes met yours and she ran. She ran until she knocked herself into your arms, nearly toppling the both of you over.

“Hi, mum.” She murmured into your neck and pulled herself impossibly closer. She tucked her chin in your shoulder, letting herself melt in your arms. “I missed you.”

You blinked away suppressed tears and kissed the side of her head. You didn’t realize how much you missed your sweet girl until she was in your arms again. “I missed you too, my love.”

You adjusted her Slytherin scarf — proudly, you might add — around her neck before pressing a kiss in her hair. You would make the most out of the two weeks you had with her if it was the last thing you did.

The commotion of the platform left the both of you unfazed as you went to grab her trunk from the express. You shrunk the trunk before tucking it away in your pocket, sending Melody a grin when she rolled her eyes at you. But as you went to leave the platform, Melody tugged you back in place with wide eyes.

You furrowed your brows and stared at her with a confused expression, hands ready to grab your wand in case she saw something that was potentially threatening. “What—?”

“Melody!” A boy ran over to your daughter and put a hand up as he took deep breaths, hair flashing many different colors before settling on purple. “I couldn’t find you after you left the compartment.”

You tilted your head at the sudden arrival of a boy before recognizing the face. You could recognize that face anywhere. After all, he was a spitting image of Remus and Tonks.

“Mum, this is Teddy Lupin.” Melody gestured to the tall boy and pushed up on her tippy toes to look past him, a small frown tugging at her lips.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Teddy.” You shake his hand and gently pull Melody back, eyeing her suspiciously before speaking to the young boy once more. “I haven’t seen you since you were an itty bitty baby.”

Teddy felt his heart kick up at the thought of you knowing him before now. You must’ve known him from when he was a mere baby. You probably knew his parents and who his parents were.

“You knew my parents?” He breathed with eyes shimmering with interest.

“Of course, I did. Your father taught me in my third year, and I absolutely adored your mother.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and sighed, shaking away the thought of him being orphaned at such a young age. You would forever curse Voldemort for destroying so many families. “How are your studies going, Teddy? I heard—”

“Must we explain everything, mum?” Melody whined and interrupted your friendly demeanor. She didn’t want to stay at the platform any longer than you, but she needed to be here until he showed up, and she didn’t want to spend all that time listening to you being extra polite. It felt weird.

“Did you bring—?”

“He’s making his way over.” Teddy waved his hand in the air and rolled his eyes, slight annoyance filling them. Not because of her but because of his uncle.

He seemed to be taking his sweet time trying to find Teddy after he all but ran toward Melody the second he saw her blonde hair over crowds of reunited families. Although, he had to admit that his uncle was far better on time management than his god father. Harry Potter could save the entire wizarding world yet he still was late to all of Teddy’s milestones.

“He’s making his way through the crowds, although he was quite skeptic on why I suddenly asked him about dinner.”

You looked between the two and knitted your brows together. You knew Melody invited someone over for dinner, but you didn’t expect another person. So who was the other?

Before either of the two could speak, you interrupted with a stern tone. “Him who?”

“Ted, you can’t wander off and not tell me who we’re going to have dinner with — Oh, fuck me.” Draco caught up to his nephew, who he found standing beside the woman he loved all these years. He didn’t think running into you twice at the platform in one year would even be possible.

“Shit.” You mutter and quickly avert your eyes from staring at his disheveled figure, forcing your heart to steady itself.

Looking down at the two children, you crossed your arms and raised a brow. You couldn’t help but think the both of them planned it — and by the looks of their guilty faces — you knew you were right.

“What did you two do?”

Teddy folded before Melody could even utter a single syllable. He jabbed a finger in her direction as his hair turned a bright pink. “Melody did it.”

“Gee, thanks.” The said girl pushed his hand away from her face and met your questioning gaze. She knew she shouldn’t have surprised either of you, but she wanted the truth without you stepping on eggshells every single time. “Uhm…”

You tilted your head and waited for her to continue, feeling Draco’s looming presence right beside you. He was equally as confused by the ambush but was willing to listen to his daughter.

Melody nervously played with the ends of her hair before spilling everything, shutting her eyes tightly when she heard how selfish her plan truly was. If something horrible came out of this, it would’ve been her fault that you were upset and her father would never want to see her again.

“I just really want to know the truth! Teddy showed me the Black Family Tree a while ago and — well — I saw me on there connected to who I suppose my father is. And when I realized it was the same person we saw here, I knew I had to find a way to see him again. I want to know who my dad is, I want to really know him.”

Draco’s face twisted into surprise and looked over at Teddy for confirmation only to whip his head back to Melody.

“And your name was written underneath his, mum.”

Instinctively, you hid your left hand under your arm and bit the inside of your cheek. Though you weren’t officially married to Draco, his family signet indicated that you were promised to one another. Whether you decided to continue with the marriage or not wasn’t a controlling factor.

“You know he’s your father, what else is there to say?”

Melody peeled her eyes open and frowned. You were getting so defensive and she still didn’t know why you never told her about her father. Even Draco looked hurt by your words.

“Why did you never tell me?” She spoke softly — afraid that the only thing she’s ever known could fall apart in an instant. She loved you, but what you kept from her seemed so unfair.

“I promise I was going to tell you this week.” You matched her tone and pursed your lips when you saw her eyes swimming with sadness.

Melody shifted her attention to her father and crossed her arms, tilting her chin up with the same confidence he had at her age. “Did you come to the station on purpose?”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head, tucking his hands into his front pockets, fidgeting from habit. He hated confrontation. “No, I’m an auror stationed here when students head back to Hogwarts and come back.”

Melody looked to Teddy for confirmation — much like her father — and received a curt nod back, making her bite her lip in frustration. Neither of them was giving her the information she wanted needed. All she saw was the tension and the underlying love of two different people.

She wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, she could press on and continue bothering them. But on the other —

“I didn’t even know your mother was pregnant.”

You perked up at the mention and glared at the blonde, eyes filled with the same anger and disappointment he saw months ago. “And whose fault is that?”

“I’m sorry that I wanted to protect you.” Draco narrowed his eyes at you, his tone challenging yours.

Melody took a small step back. This wasn’t how she planned this to go, but this was more information she received than from the last eleven years.

“You made that decision yourself.” You whispered, voice cracking with hurt. The walls you carefully built around old memories chipped away as you recalled them all — each moment flashing in your mind. “I could’ve helped, Dray. Instead, you pushed me away like I was nothing.”

Draco furrowed his brows together and shook his head — you were always so stubborn and so correct. “You could’ve gotten killed—“

“I would have died to stay with you.” You instinctively grabbed his hand. “Do you know how long I waited? How long I used to stay up — wondering if you would ever come back?” The tears began to well up as you continued to speak, voice trembling and hands shaking.

Draco quietly listened and stared down at your ringed finger, his family signet shining for all the wizarding world to see. He promised to marry you — to take you away from the mess of the past.

Yet he still left.

“I was praying to whoever was out there for you to come find me.” You quietly spoke and finally dropped his hand. “You left me with nothing.”

The both of you stared at one another with unspoken apologies. No matter how long it’s been, you could still read him and he could still read you. To one another, it was like reading a childhood book that could be recited front to back.

After seconds of stiff silence, you turned back to Melody and Teddy — handing your daughter the miniature trunk and keys to your car. “Melody, take Teddy and wait in the car.”

“Mum—“

“Now.” You cut her off and watch her and Teddy leave the platform. Steadying your breathing once more, you looked back at Draco and twisted your ring. “Do you even have anything to say?”

He looked between your eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, voice small like the seventeen year old Death Eater he once was.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke with so much emotion you swore you could see the colors surrounding him. “I’m so sorry I left without saying anything.”

A noise threatened to leave your lips, but you made no effort to leave your position nor say anything.

“But I was vowed to follow my father’s footsteps by becoming a Death Eater.” He took your hand in his and traced the familiar lines across your palm, effectively calming him and you. “Waking up beside you brought me comfort in all the torture they made me endure. I knew you didn’t deserve to suffer with me, so I left.”

Draco watched your hand delicately hover his arm where the mark was, biting his tongue when you thumbed the space below — something you used to do back in sixth year when he got so overwhelmed with his mission.

“I can’t ever take back the day I decided to leave and never show up again, but I don’t regret it.”

You silently absorbed his words and sniffled — signs that were so clear to Draco about what was to come. He tilted his head down to meet your eyes again, giving you a weak smile.

“You raised an excellent daughter without me.” He tired to cheer you up but frowned when he saw the shimmer of a singular tear streak down your face.

“I needed you.” You frustratedly wipe your tear and look away, knowing that the vulnerability of your heart was completely at stake. “Dray, I was seventeen too.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of the both of you — so young and restrained by everything.

“I was pregnant and terrified. I didn’t know if I could even raise a child on my own.” You breathed and looked up at the glass roofing, pushing the rest of the tears away. “Imagine how different our life would be if you just stayed.”

Another tear escaped and — suddenly — your barriers crumbled. The mere thought of raising Melody on your own without Draco consumed your every being. And somehow — even with just you — she ended up exactly like her father.

“Yes, Melody is amazing, but I really needed you.”

Draco caught your eyes and instantly pulled you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin — refusing to let go of you ever again. His heart continued to break at your silent sobs, each sniffle and hiccup chiseling the crack that formed years ago.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and repeated it like a mantra, voice raw with so much sincerity. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”

“I needed you, Draco.” You sobbed and breathed in his familiar scent as you buried your face in his chest. You gripped the lapels of his suit, eyes squeezed shut as if you were afraid he would disappear again. “For more than eleven years, I needed you.”

“I needed you too.” Draco whispered and tilted your head up, thumbing your streaked face. His heart ached from all the time he missed out on. “I’m sorry.”

It felt like ages before you pulled away from him. The only sounds that could be heard was your occasional sniffling and the hisses of the express. You took in a shaky breath and wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jumper, mouth moving before your heart and mind could catch up.

“Would you still have dinner with us? I’m sure you’ve been here all day waiting for the arrival of the express.”

Finally listening to your own words, your freeze before slowly meeting his eyes. You were more shocked at yourself than his answer.

“I would love to have dinner with you and Melody.” He answered truthfully before waving his free hand around with the smallest smile on his face. “And Teddy.”

You match his expression and tilt your head to the right, wringing your hands together. “Maybe you could finally get to know Melody.”

Draco’s lips curled into a fully blown smile, his gray-blue eyes sparkling with delight at the idea of finally knowing his one and only daughter. “I would like that.”

“Me too.” You say softly and — for the first time in a long time — hide the rising warmth forming on your cheek.

Draco Malfoy. The biggest love and loss of your life.

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